It’s the rest of the week. What would you like to rest from right now?
Are you in the midst of a growing season, working (or waiting) hard and longing to see the results of your efforts (or intentionality)?
It can be hard to rest when the work is still underway, the results seemingly tenuous, and when you don’t really have anything to show for what’s going on inside.
Sometimes it might even seem like you are regressing rather than making progress.
Consider the first trimester—that term that starts before a woman is even pregnant and goes until around the thirteenth week of pregnancy.
Just after our first anniversary, Ricardo and I learned that I was pregnant. We could not contain our excitement. We made phone calls far and wide. Never mind that most miscarriages occur during the first trimester and many of our friends had waited a bit to make sure that all was well before making public announcements.
A week after the positive test I experienced some cramping and rushed to the doctor who did a test and said to come back in a few days for another test to make sure everything was alright.
I read and reread one of my many books on pregnancy and was certain that I had an ectopic pregnancy. I cried my concerns to Ricardo and wished I had been more private with the news. Ricardo comforted me reassuringly, but later confessed his mixed feelings about one particular “pregnancy bible” I consulted which seemed to produce more anxiety than prepared anticipation.
(Ironically, for all the conditions I fleeting thought I had, the one I didn’t even bat an eye at was the one I got).
A few weeks in, the excitement was still there, but everything about us and our life seemed the same. Actually, make that was the same. We still got up at our regular time and went through all the regular motions of daily life.
I wanted to wear the news immediately, but practiced patience—recognizing that, without something to fill them out, maternity dresses would not convince anyone that I was pregnant.
(It took a good fifteen weeks before someone took a second look and tentatively asked, “Are you pregnant?” “Yes!” I replied emphatically, almost hugging the young woman with the courage to ask.)
Growing life inside is an invisible process—it doesn’t show right away.
Those early weeks passed and all I had to show for all the change and growth going on in my baby’s (and my) body was emotional drama, utter fatigue, and a bit of nausea.
These are not the things people notice and celebrate. Strangers do not smile and rush to open doors for you, or urge you to take care and let them pick up that heavy load when they see you crying for no apparent reason, or dragging your body around at the speed of a sloth. They might not even notice.
Growing life inside is a complicated, challenging process that can feel worse before it feels better.
What an irony that the first trimester—the most crucial period of pregnancy when the growing life inside is especially susceptible and all of the baby’s major organs and systems are forming—is the time when there is nothing to show for what’s going on. And the mother most likely will feel at her worst.
If you are in the midst of a growing season, working (or waiting) hard and longing to see the results of your efforts (or intentionality), take heart.
Take heart and rest in the truth that good things are happening—even if it doesn’t feel like it—especially if it feels just the opposite.
And even though it may be messy and an unseen work to most, there are those who see—starting with the One who loves you through it all and promises to see you through.
You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.(From the ancient songs of David, Psalms 139:13-15
May you rest, even as you grow, and may your rest be sweet.
Alicia