Last night I was lying awake in bed having fairly regular, fairly strong contractions. They were about 10 minutes apart and lasted 1-1.5 minutes each. They kept on like that for about an hour and a half before fading away.
As this was happening, I started thinking to myself, "Wouldn't it be kind of nice to go into labor early for a change?" All three of the girls came late; I wouldn't mind going a little early this time.
When I woke up the next morning, there were two different posts on facebook about babies who were struggling for their lives. One was born full term but with her cord wrapped around her head. She wasn't breathing on her own for about 8 minutes after birth. The other was born at 24 weeks and will spend at least 3 months in the ICU.
Immediately I was reminded of the frailty and unpredictability of life. I told God I was sorry for complaining about all of the uncomfortable late-pregnancy symptoms and thanked him for a healthy baby boy. I am more than happy to carry this baby as long as needed; I don't care how big or swollen I get. Just keep my baby healthy, Jesus.
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