The Sunday That Wasn't

There was no way around it. Sneakers it was. As in sneakers to church. It wasn't so bad volunteering to help out with the four year olds (what an awesome age). Its just that I wear sneakers everyday. My sciatic nerve has been super bad with this pregnancy. So bad that Hubby had to help me to the guest bed at three in the morning. Our bed is pillow top but the guest bed just as well be a board. It unfortunately is what I need to relieve the pressure. Solitary confinement every night. Great. Love you Hubby, I guess we will again be able to share a bed some time way after this baby is born (because who sleeps with a newborn anyway).

I know it is shallow but what I would really like to wear is my nude peep toe pumps with slight platform by Jessica Simpson (that isn't the actual shoe but close enough, you get the idea). I also have some super cute dresses I would love to wear but again, with sneakers, not so fab.

I'm thinking every pregnant chick goes through this at some point. I did the first time. As I lay in bed supported by about four pillows and a hot pad waiting for Tylenol (which I swear is a placebo) to work its magic, I stare at all those cute clothes in my closet that are but a distant memory and waiting patiently for someday...maybe...fitting again.

What else is migraines are coming once a week now. Again, Tylenol. Lame. That is how yesterday was the Sunday that wasn't. We left right after Sunday School. I stayed in bed for three hours...wrong bed which did nothing for me. Hubby went to the library to work on a paper for his masters. Miss Wiggles watched some PBS Kids while I tried to avoid any eye contact with the TV as that is a migraine trigger.

So as I sat thinking what the world am I going to do with a migraine, a wicked pain in my back and well, any way. I was at a loss. Until of course I heard God say, hey, what about me?

And that is the center of the matter. I'm feeling very sorry for myself and where once my relationship with God was strong and filled with joy. Now, I fixate on hating wearing my yoga pants everyday or the ill health induced house arrest. Two weeks ago I was super sick. Then Miss Wiggles was sick. Now my back feels like I fell on a knife and I'm too big for just about any of my clothes. Ok, I do have clothes to wear and they are cute but I'm in a mood. I tried to read a bit in Colassians and I got it but I felt more like a rock receiving a seed.

This week we will try again getting out of the house but as moral building as hanging out with my friends is, working on my relationship with God is crucial and most important.

So basically as my nude peep toe pumps gather dust, pray for me that my Bible doesn't. Thanks.