It's My Potty and I'll Go If I Want To

This week, I decided to potty train Jackson. I researched the internet. I bought tiny little boy underpants (so stinkin adorable). I hit the Dollar Store and bought new books, flashcards, stickers, and a special basket just for beside the potty. We've been watching Elmo's Potty Time for months. We've been putting Jack on the potty before bathtime to get him used to it.

He loves to "pee pee in the potty". But, he hasn't actually pee peed in the potty yet.

Day one he had several accidents in his underpants and he definitely does not like wet underpants (who does?). He also sprayed himself in the face with the carpet cleaner (Mother Of The Year Award is mine!) but he's fine.

Day two, he just didn't pee all morning. He kept his underpants dry but didn't pee in the potty either despite the twenty times I put him on it in four hours.

Some people would get frustrated by now. I consider it progress.

My Inmost Being

For you created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb. Psalm 139:13

When a somewhat distant acquaintance of mine had her baby boy at 34 weeks gestation, many memories of Molly's birth came rushing back. I remembered the NICU vividly with the constant beeps of the monitors. I remember hearing monitor alarms go off and fearing it was Molly. I remember being scared to ask questions and more scared of the answers. When can we take her home? When will she get better? What is the next step to get her out of here? What can I do? The fear was tangible. It smelled metallic and tasted like tinfoil.

It was tempting to blame myself for Molly's early arrival. If only I hadn't been on my feet all day. If only I hadn't fought with Andy about cleaning the kitchen. If only I had taken my prenatal vitamin regularly. If only I hadn't hauled Jackson around the night before. In my weakest moments, Satan crept in my mind through my IF ONLY thoughts.

Fast forward about a year. Molly is healthy and beautiful and right on track developmentally. The NICU is in our past and the memories have blurred around the edges.

As Andy and I started talking about conceiving another baby, some of the fear resurfaced. I know that I am more likely to have the same complications that I had with Molly. I know that I am more likely for another premature birth. That scares me and the fear smells metallic.

However, I also strongly believe that I cannot and will not spend my time worrying about it. Worrying is a sin and I am choosing to not let Satan creep into my mind again. This baby that I am carrying is knit together by the Great Physician. And further more, my inmost parts, the parts that are cradling this little life and will give him or her forward in God's perfect timing, were knit together by the same Physician. I choose to lay my fear to rest at His feet and bask in the sweet smell of baby lotion.

Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7