Daylight Savings, Puking, God's Provision

Victor came down with his first cold of the season last week. 
And it was a bit of a hectic week, late nights and early mornings. 
And I don't sleep real great when V gets a cough. 
And I am worse than Victor at adjusting to Daylight Savings this year (hard to shake those 4am wake ups).

So, I think that all caught up with me on Monday when, in an odd pregnancy twist, I puked 3 times. 

Definite flashbacks to last pregnancy.  (Except that this time when I puked, I woke Victor up from his nap.)

So, it was a bit of a low point. 

The thing about low points is that they are generally also the times when you see most clearly God's care. 

Like somehow being okay until Ben got home from class. 
And then being able to haul myself out of bed to tuck Victor in bed, and getting the longest, sweetest snuggle from him I remember.
And keeping down some chicken broth in the morning, so that I was strong enough for Ben to go to his meetings.
And the sweet provision of two friends to take Victor for big pieces of the day so I could rest (and catch up on some work).
And no repeat performances so far...

In the moment, it always feels like the horrible nausea is there to stay.  Forever.  When it stretches into hours and days and weeks and months, it's a long, hard, dreary battle, and the sheer weight of physical groaning can threaten to squelch all the hopeful truths I know. 

And yet, it can set the stage for such sweet breakthroughs of grace that I would not otherwise taste.  So (at least after the fact) I recognize it as one of those thorny gifts, that pulls aside the veil to reveal Jesus.

To my friend who is in the middle of it all right now, I am praying for you.  It is hard.  It is so hard. 

But it is not the end of the story, and joy will indeed come in the morning.