Many blogs and mothers that I talk to express a concern about how much they worry. About their kids. About their homes. About their marriages. But really alot about their kids. And I can see how that’s easily done – there is so many good things that you want for them, but you can’t control them. You can’t make them make wise choices. You can’t make them happy. You can’t always figure out what their needs are. It isn’t from lack of trying, but it just is.
I’ve realized that I’ve spent much of this pregnancy worrying – particularly in the last few weeks. Since finding out that he’s on the smaller side, I worry about his health. My health. How can I not be feeding him enough? He’s still inside! Am I not doing something right?
Then a week-ish ago, I find out that he isn’t just small, but he’s in the wrong position. So, now I worry about more things. Should we try to flip him? Should we wait and see? Since he’s small, that just compounds things and gives me more variables to consider.
Then Tuesday, I got relief from those 2 concerns. He’s small yes, but he’s not losing ground – he’s growing at the right pace. He’s just a small guy. And he’s flipped on his own! Another answer to prayer.
But at that same appointment, I had a high blood pressure reading – 140/85, which has never been true of me. My previous pregnancy high was 120/75. And that reading was after I had seen him on the ultrasound and had the relief of knowing that he was healthy and head down! So the blood pressure should be no big deal, right? Scheduled a follow up appointment for Friday.
But last night and again today after work, I stopped by the store to use their in-store blood pressure machine. Both times my blood pressure was 160/86. That’s high. Really high. And that’s with me resting as much as possible at night. But again, nothing more that I can do other than keep resting, drinking water, keeping my eye out for other symptoms. Which there aren’t any – no headaches, no blurry vision, no major swelling, no crazy weight gain – in fact, I’ve lost 3 pounds.
It just occurred to me this afternoon that I’ve spent so much time worrying and it’s kind of wasted time. What wasn’t wasted was the time I’ve spent researching and preparing and educating myself. But was wasted was the time spent worrying. Stewing. Marinating on what was occurring. My worry meant that I was taking ownership of my future rather than letting God direct the outcome and leading me. That’s wasted time.
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