For some reason my brain tried to tell me that the baby was coming yesterday. I should know better than to listen to my brain. She’s failed me so many times before.
It would have been pretty inconvenient to have a baby yesterday or last night since my daughter contracted some sort of communicable disease (ok, a head cold), no doubt from the kid I heard hacking up a lung in her sunday school class the other day. She was up half the night and the poor little thing is tired and feeling pretty rotten today. I put her in her room for nap time about ten minutes ago and haven’t heard a peep. That’s saying something since rest time usually consists of her singing many verses of Old MacDonald Had a Farm, or some version of various songs she makes up in her head.
Anyway, I had a little panic this morning thinking that if I did go into labour that it would be horrible to have a baby that C wouldn’t be allowed to kiss or snuggle if she was sick. But a still, small voice re-assured me that everything would be ok. I don’t know if that means the baby won’t come till next week or if she does that she’ll be fine but I felt better having listened to the still, small voice who understands my worries and tries to make them go away.
God is very good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. Funny how that always amazes me. You’d think I’d get it by now.