I had two very stable, rational days, and then yesterday happened. I would love to tell you I lost it and burst into tears over something meaningful, but, no, it was over a lost package. Mom ordered me a new diaper bag a few weeks back. It was supposed to be delivered last Friday. Then, it changed to Saturday. Saturday the expected delivery date said N/A. I called FedEx SmartPost, and they placed a trace on the package and located it in Southaven, MS. The new arrival date was Wednesday, September 17th. Yesterday, I checked the tracking again, and it said it was delivered Tuesday. No, no. I think there’s been an error.
I called FedEx SmartPost again, and they said I would need to talk to my local post office since they handle the final delivery for SmartPost. So, on the way to Bible study I called the post office, and they put me through to my postman who assured me he had delivered the package to my door. I held back my tears and managed not to lose it on the phone, but I kindly told him I had been home all afternoon, and it had not been delivered. He told me he would “check the cove on his route that afternoon.” By the time I got up to my girls in Bible study, I was a mess–the stereotypical very-pregnant woman who has lost it over nothing at all. About that time, Jess slides over a warm apple cake she made me for my upcoming birthday. She made this cake for Bunco last fall, and I have raved about it ever since. Then, I was crying because I was thinking, “I don’t deserve these people, Lord! They are too good to me, too good to crazy, irrational, basket-case me.”
I looked around the cove once we got home from Bible study and saw a package on our next door neighbors. I was pretty sure I saw the Zulily logo on the side, but I had two cranky-needing-lunch-and-naps kids so I took them in and figured I would let the mailman find it. 1. Because I wasn’t sure it was legal to go take something off someone else’s front door step. And 2. Because I wanted the postman to know I was right and he was wrong, and he did not in fact deliver it to my door.
I got the girls lunch, put them down for rest time, got myself a big ole piece of apple cake and turned on Parenthood. A couple months ago I started watching Parenthood during the girls’ rest time. Word to the wise: do NOT start Parenthood when you are pregnant. I realized immediately that this was going to be the episode where Zoe decides to keep her baby and Joel and Julia leave the hospital empty-handed and brokenhearted. Yesterday would have been a good day to buy stock in Kleenex. Of course, we don’t have Kleenex around here, so I was stuck with toilet paper and texted my bestie with every crying emoji while I watched.
After all that crying, I felt much better, but I have decided I need a maternity shirt that says, “Fragile! Handle with Care!” to wear for the next nine weeks. (Make that nine months because you know I’ll be a mess after baby too.)
Around 4 PM, I realized the mail had already been delivered and the postman had not remembered to look. So, in my pajama pants I trekked over to the neighbors’ house, knocked on their door two times, and then took the package and ran. I now have my diaper bag, and, hopefully, I didn’t commit a crime.
Today I hit 30 weeks and tomorrow 30 years. Sometime in January, Jess told me she had a feeling something big was going to happen around my 30th birthday. Her own 30th had brought with it news of a precious baby waiting for her. When I looked on the calendar and realized I would hit both milestones within 24 hours of each other, I smiled and thought of her words and her prayers. For surely this baby kicking and squirming and using my bladder as a squeeze toy is a dream I wasn’t even brave enough to dream, a prayer I didn’t have the courage to vocalize.
This past year has been the best and the hardest of my life. It has been this beautiful, messy swirl of moments I never want to forget like Charlotte’s first birthday, eating Lou Malnati’s with Matt in Chicago, crossing the finish line after 26.2 miles, that beautiful plus sign, and watching Lydia read for the first time. It’s also been a year where I have had to confront my issues with perfectionism and control like never before. This morning in my Bible study book Children of the Day these words burrowed into me, “You’ll never find a perfect perfectionist.” I also need a shirt with that on it. I’m realizing I will battle these things for the rest of my life, but I’m surrounded by a village that pushes me and sharpens me, encourages me and kicks me in the butt. And that is a pretty special gift.
Here’s to 30 weeks and 30 years, apple cake and best friends, great memories and hard lessons, emotional days and knowing I’m not alone.