Captain’s Log, Day 15,891: We are experiencing rather gloomy weather conditions. Spirits and rations are low. The children have gained control of the main living quarters including the master bedroom, where “The Good Dinosaur” will now play on a continual basis in the hopes that the youngest will keep her blood-curdling screams to a minimum. Hair from our canine companions now coats the floor in an 8-inch thick layer. Clutter is rapidly multiplying on every previously clear surface; the visual chaos is almost too much for me to bear. Much of my time is spent staring off into space pretending not to see the scotch tape left out on the kitchen counter.
The current diagnosis is what is called a “threatened miscarriage.” Bleeding is unpredictable and at times, heavy. The medical theory is that bed rest may be instrumental in getting the pregnancy into the second trimester; or it may not be helpful at all. I find the complete lack of control that I have over the situation to be difficult to handle, especially since I cannot cope by cleaning or running.
The uncertainty and the boredom are combining to form a slight but definite depression, which manifests itself in the form of passive-aggression and tantrum-throwing. Caleb is stout-hearted, but his patience with me is wearing thin. This creates a dangerous cycle of guilt which only fuels my anxiety. Sleep is elusive. Overall frustration levels are at an all-time maximum.
Waiting and being still has proven to be one of the hardest things God has ever commanded me to do.
For the moment, the family is at church. I pray they come back in good spirits, their hearts rejuvenated, and their strength renewed. I pray that from my eternally-reclined position I can at least verbally encourage my husband; I no doubt will struggle over the next couple weeks but I hope to see a light at the end of the tunnel with my upcoming doctor’s appointment. Until then, I will bark orders in regards to tidying up things in my line of sight.