So today is Wednesday, the day of my Bible study.
We are doing the Beth Moore series on the Patriarchs.
There are some great ladies, Derek has fun at the childcare, there are yummy snacks and tea.
The only problem: My uterus.
I like to consider it retired. It produced two children that are relatively normal.
If normal includes the need to wear a princess dress and fairy wings every day.
And an obsession about three specific "aminals" without whom the earth would cease to spin.
However, this group of women at Bible study is giving my retired uterus some pangs.
New babies are everywhere.
Today I sat behind a girl that was nursing her baby.
When he came out from under the hooter hider, he had that sleepy-drunk look I remember so well. His cheek was flushed and he let out the sweetest wet burp as soon as he was propped on his mama's shoulder.
His head looked so soft.
To my left was baby Cora, all snugly sleeping on her mama.
Behind me little Mirabella was being rocked in her mother's arms.
Crista was sitting at the table, with her cute pregnant belly.
Abraham is not good for my uterus.
But I have a saving grace.
Last night, for the first time ever, my monitor picked up the neighbor's frequency. At 3:15am I heard the soft mewing of their new baby girl. At first I had assumed I was hearing Derek, but as the little cries persisted I could tell that it was definitely not him.
And for a second I remembered the torture that is sleep deprivation.
And it all came flooding back. The morning sickness, the fatness, the fussy evening times, never getting to sit down and eat dinner, being tied down with napping schedules, the hemorrhoids.
Sorry, too much info?
Just keeping it real.
I think God knew that I needed that 3:15 wake-up call before the full-on reproductive onslaught I was subjected to today.