Not My Story

Walking out of the hospital, I felt discouraged, sad, and just a little bit angry. Ok, fine, a lot angry. I had become THAT woman...the one who walked into the hospital at 3am after 9 straight hours of pretty steady contractions convinced that this was going to go somewhere. Eventually. I hadn't counted on labor lasting so long. I had read the posts, knew the averages, and accepted that it was a possibility, but I forgot one little detail...they were talking about the average time for ACTIVE labor. This was not it. I knew that. But I was still hoping against hope that maybe, maybe, I could walk home with a baby in my arms. My contractions were textbook. They were coming 30 mins apart, then 20, then 15, back up to 20, down to 15, and finally 10 mins apart, which is when I decided to make my debut.

I hate that I fell for it. I promised myself that I wouldn't. I was going to be that impressive first timer who shows up at the hospital just in time for just the right amount of care without the risk of too many interventions. I've read the blogs. I've seen the criteria. I knew the 4-1-1 rule. I didn't even plan to go to the hospital until I couldn't talk through my contractions, just like all the books and blogs and doctors advised. But when I was there, in that moment...overly excited about the fact that these contractions were actually doing something...I lost my mind. I got so anxious to meet my little girl and kiss her tiny fingers that I couldn't help myself. I went to that hospital. And I became that woman.

I walked out angry and sad and disappointed, but I think I was the better for it. While I was there...hooked up to a fetal monitor in a hospital gown with an oxygen monitor on my finger and trying not to cry because I had made a fool of myself...I got a little pep talk from my husband. He told me about something he had read recently about how God had "interfered" with the Egypt plan, so to speak. He talked about how Abraham knew that his descendants would be exiled. His descendants knew it. That was all part of the plan. They knew deliverance would come, and it did...through Moses. But what they weren't expecting was Pharoah. Moses approaches Pharoah and tells him to let his people go, and what response does he get? "No. In fact..hey...give those people more work." "That wasn't part of the plan, God!" Moses and the Israelites might have thought. Why did their deliverance have to come at such a cost? Why couldn't it be easy? There's a verse in Exodus that answers that question. God himself says, "Go to Pharoah, for I have made him and his servants hardhearted, so that I can demonstrate these signs of mine among them, so that you can tell your son and grandson about what I did to Egypt and about my signs that I demonstrated among them so that you will know that I am the Lord." (10:1) That was it. That was the reason. Simply that God wanted everyone to know, for generations to come, that He was in control. That no matter how much Moses or anyone else looked like they were running the show, they were really just ambassadors on His behalf.

It's God's story. He's writing it. Our lives are simply a line of text in that story. He's the One Who is in control. It's something that I lost sight of as I sat around awaiting the arrival of our firstborn daughter, but it's a lesson that needs learning more often.

After my husband finished his story and analogy, I said to him, "I knew I shouldn't have prayed that a week or so ago that he would help me to quit feeling like I have to be so in control." We laughed, but in all seriousness...I'm glad I prayed that prayer. It may have meant I ended up in the hospital and looked silly, but hey....He got the message across, didn't He? I am just a part of HIS story, and that's what really matters.

Has there ever been a time when you wanted to be in control and learned that you weren't?

The Beautiful Burden of Binge Watching

This is What I SHOULD Be Doing

I have determined that there should really be some type of AA program for binge watchers. I mean, I seriously am in need of like a twelve step program or something. It is just ridiculous the amount of online streaming I can manage to fit into one day. Like, almost an entire season. I wish I was kidding, but if I time it right and count very carefully, I can totally pull off 16 entire episodes (there are 22 in a season) of 45 minutes in just 12 hours. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

But. That. Is. So. WRONG.

I haven't actually gone that far in quite a while, but three or four (ok fine, or five) a day is pretty normal at this point. Which adds up to somewhere around two to five HOURS of television. A day. That's as much as 25 hours a week, assuming I take a couple of days off to DO something. There are so many more productive things that I could be doing. Like writing a book. Or READING a book. Like the one about birth that I HAVE to finish before the baby gets here. Or sewing that skirt and those 3 pairs of jeans that I have been neglecting for a month but all have tears in them. Or making granola for my husband, who is fresh out of cereal for breakfast. Or making bread because we are now out. Or writing those papers for class so I don't have to write them when I'm sleep deprived and juggling the demands of school, a newborn, and household chores.

This has got to stop.

But I LOVE my 7th Heaven. I also hate it. I love the drama, the hype, and the way I get to escape reality. But I hate the way it controls me, how I just can't stop, how I'm so enticed to watch more. Even though I love how it lets me escape reality....I have no need of escaping reality, because I lead quite a wonderful life, actually. So what I really end up escaping is responsibility.

There. I said it.

It's not even that I don't have a plan. I totally have a plan. I have a wonderful planner wherein lies the assignments I need to accomplish for school and the appointments that I have to show up at. I have a chalkboard with a menu on it of food that I need to make for the next week and a half to two weeks. I also have laundry in the basket and dishes in the sink, neither of which are actually written down anywhere, but kind of serve as their own reminders.

The problem, I think, is that I take one look at the planner or the dishes in the sink, suddenly feel overwhelmed, and resolve this issue with the thought "I shall cope by watching a show", which of course turns into several shows and less time to accomplish things. That's one potential problem. Or it could simply be that I am flat out bored. I look at my planner and see all the empty space because I'm two months ahead in one of my classes, almost a month ahead in another, and at least two weeks ahead in each of the other two online college classes that I'm taking. Dishes take a total of maybe 30 mins to an hour a day and laundry is pretty easy, too. Who knows what the issue is. But in order to not think about it...7th Heaven here I come! Oh the excuses I can come up with to willfully rot my brain out.

But I realized something today. I am FIVE WEEKS away from GIVING BIRTH. To a human. Who I will be responsible for. Forever. That kind of hit me like a ton of bricks today. Do you know how much I legitimately have to do before she gets here? Way too much to be sitting around binge watching T.V. Granted, the every day stuff is pretty easy and even a little boring, but there are other, bigger things that I have yet accomplish that MUST get done. Meet Pediatricians and decide on one (at least we have a family doctor if that doesn't get done). Go to the baby shower. Put the car seat in the car. Prepare the room. Kegels. I don't even have the "Go" bag ready yet, people. Oh so many things.

So I decided to quit. Cold turkey. Just STOP binge-watching. Because I don't have time. But I'm not stupid. I know that I legitimately, honestly, can't do that. I am the obsessive type and I am really bad at directing my obsessions toward non-productive things (other than the class I'm two months ahead in....rather proud of that). Therefore, I know I need help. A lot of help. Because I can't just "quit" Netflix/Amazon Prime. That's like an alcoholic saying they can just "quit" alcohol. W-h-a-t-e-v-e-r. Not gonna happen. But I wish. I wish it was just as easy as saying "I quit" and then doing it, because I have a TON to do.

Ok. All this ranting has made me all depressed. So I think I'll just go watch some 7th Heaven to bury the feeling of helplessness and powerlessness that I now feel. (Not really, but it is, admittedly, mighty tempting. *sigh*).

What are some things you feel powerless to overcome?