The last month has been a whirlwind to say the least. I think moving across the country would throw anyone off for a bit, but doing it 8 months pregnant adds a whole extra layer of disorienting.
So, on top of temporarily moving in with my parents, I've had to find a new doctor, go to a million appointments, have a baby shower, set up a nursery, and the other endless tasks Pinterest tells me are "must dos" before the baby comes. I feel like God has been leading me to deal only with what is right in front of me in this season of life, which has been a challenge for a planner and chronic overachiever like me. But, in my pursuit of faithfulness and Zen, I had left basically everything baby related until we moved. Even just typing that makes me feel crazy. Since we got unpacked, I have gone non stop, maniacally checking things of my list, trying to see everyone and attend every event. I forgot how to say no. I forgot to protect my roots. So here I sit, 9 months pregnant, exhausted and drained.
I'm sure some of you just read that and thought "Of course you are. You're nine months pregnant." But for me, that's been the most difficult thing to accept. Im normally a highly energetic, list making, task achieving, independent machine. Being so pregnant has forced me to slow down more than I imagined possible. Grocery shopping has become physically difficult. Getting out of bed, a comical and tiring struggle. Shaving my own legs, impossible. You get the idea. This impossibly independent woman needs help. That's something that has upset me on a deep level. This last month has been an internal clash of my will against my body. I have felt betrayed by my own body and like I'd lost a big part of myself.
But, sitting here with my feet up and only 3 weeks to go, I'm resting in the peaceful place of temporary. Everything about my life is temporary. My place of residence, my husband's employment status, the city we live in, being pregnant, needing help to pick things up of the floor, being a family of two: all temporary. It's an interesting place of duality. Temporary can be a promise that this will be over soon, and it can be a reminder to soak up every last moment of the present. While I can't wait to have autonomy in my body again, I only have 3 more weeks to feel my son roll and kick. Living in my parents house is just for now and so is living in my hometown during my favorite season. I can't wait to meet my son and have my body back, but this is the last time my husband and I will ever have to be just Kenzi and Jordan.
In this revelation, I could feel God whispering to me - for the millionth time - to just soak up right now. With all the busy and striving I was doing, I didn't leave any space for me. No space for rest, no space to relax, no space to create, and no space to just be me.
So, in this small time I have left, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to read, make bread, and maybe even paint. I'm going to spend my time filling my soul and enjoying the now.
"It is well with my soul."