Priorities (For Real This Time).

I'm young & pregnant & married to an amazing man, & my home is cozy & there is food in my cupboards. I have the saving grace of a loving God & some wonderful friends to support me. I am blessed and I don't doubt it.

Over a week ago, I wrote a post about priorities. It was really a post about list-making and the benefits of it in my daily life (which still holds true), but it hit me last Sunday night that list-making is not the same as priority-shifting.

Our Lamaze class (which we're loving) started out with 4 couples: 4 men, 4 women, all coming together with the intention to birth as naturally as possible, barring the real need for medical intervention of some type. We started out fresh, excited, energized and John and I left feeling like we were part of a new group who could grow together in one small way or another. It was amazing to think that in the span of a few weeks, all of us would be actually using the skills we were learning in the group, and out of it would come life.

Bring on week 2.

The night before our Lamaze class, John and I had a hard time sleeping. Granted, this was because John had been out with friends until 1 AM and was a fireball of energy and forgot that a woman at 36 weeks pregnant probably should be sleeping at 3 in the morning as opposed to hanging out and watching Toy Story 2 and eating snacks... but this was besides the point. The next day, recovering from our mostly-sleepless night, we took a nap at 2 PM and (although I had reminded him!) John (it's his thing normally) didn't set the alarm on his phone to ensure we woke up on time for class, which began at 4:00. Sure enough, 4:10 rolls around and I woke up to realize that we had slept through the first 10 minutes of Lamaze and still had a 25 minute journey ahead! I panicked.

Money -- wasted!
Time -- wasted!
Sleep -- could have waited!

I was furious. I said things like, "I'M the one having this baby! Not you! I need to go to this class! I can't miss anything! I need to learn to breathe and relax and enjoy birth! I can't do this by myself but I HAVE to!"

I was going nuts. Woe was me. I was on the verge of tears, I felt so overwhelmed about this difficult thing I was convinced I'd have to go through by myself and my husband couldn't even set the alarm for a class to teach me how to do it. I was on a mission to get to Lamaze and I was not about to let John forget that it was HIS FAULT that we were late, and that meant he wanted me to go it alone.

As a note, I could chalk up this psycho-behaviour to pregnancy hormones, but I won't. I messed up. I had no grace. I should have taken a deep breath, relaxed, and moved on. So what? We slept in. Thank God for our cozy bed. Thank God for each other.

Well, sure enough, we got to Lamaze 30 minutes late... and it was just fine. We got caught up on what we'd missed. No big deal. I felt already like I'd over-reacted. But I didn't realize truly how much.

We noticed when we arrived that one of the 4 couples of the class was missing, and our instructor casually noted that they wouldn't be making it today. I thought it was wierd (considering how crucial I had made the class out to be in my frenzy of grumpiness on the car ride there) but moved my thoughts on and John and I spent the class learning and bonding (and I apologized) and, funny enough, learned about the 2-person dance of birth.

We learned that birth is not a one-lady job. By we I mean me... I think John had that one sorted out already. I wouldn't be able to do half of the suggested labour positions without the help of my man. I was not going it alone. He didn't want me to. I don't have to do this by myself. We learned that our man was to be our rock in birth, our encourager, our supportive and loving coach who could hold us while we embraced the birth dance. (Which isn't really a dance, but let's go with it).

And then, at the end of the class, we learned why one of our four couples was missing. The man of the couple, let's say his name was D, had passed away earlier that week in a tragic accident. His lady, this carrier of their babe, had been left alone with no husband, no supporter, no man, and truly was being left to go through this 2-person responsibility- the birth dance - herself. Granted, I'm sure she has a strong system of supports and family in her life to assist her, but nobody can replace your babydaddy, your husband, your man.

I felt in shock. Total shock. Our class cried real tears of sorrow and solidarity. One eighth of us had been ripped away. One baby had been left with no daddy to raise her. One woman had been left with only half of her heart. The tone became quickly somber and as we all went home, us 3 remaining moms had a bit of a tummy-huddle hoping to send some love and support and prayer her way. And I think we all had a much greater appreciation of our men.

The truth became, and has become, quite clear. Priorities are not about lists. They're not about what's we need to achieve in order of importance. Priorities are about consistently, fluidly, and constantly remembering what we value and how we can express that value to others.

As I move forward, my priorities are going to look like: 1) My God, 2) My husband, 3) My family & soon-to-be kiddo and 4) My network of beloved friends. I need to be expressing this daily, no-holds-barred, with no reservation or fear for the consequences.

And I need to constantly appreciate my wonderful man for being here, and being my rock, and thanking God for all He has given and will continue to give.