I have been a little less than inspired lately. A lot less than inspired, actually. That is, until six days ago.
Because eighty-two days ago, I found myself at Alco buying a pregnancy test. My husband and I had plans to attend a big Catholic wedding that afternoon, and I had plans to open a bottle of wine. My you-know-what, however, was going on two weeks late. At my husband's prompting, I drove to the store and purchased the test from a cute, thin, blond teenage girl.
About thirty minutes later, I was crying on my husband's shoulder. He was laughing at me.
Why the tears, you ask?
Because that cute, teenage girl at the store still had her waistline...
Because I had two awfully young babies already...
Because this was the third time I had been pregnant in the not-even-yet four years we had been married...
Because I only had a three bedroom house...
Because I had actually had success losing weight...
Because (counter-productively) I liked wine, and margaritas, and caffeine...
And so the pity party began. I was ridden with guilt for the time I was stealing away from my two babies. I was worried that my body wouldn't be able to handle three back-to-back pregnancies. I was jealous of every family who had family close by to lend a helping hand. I wallowed in self pity for eighty-two days. Refusing to be thankful. Ignoring the positives. Pushing away any inspiration.
Six days ago, that all changed. I was on the couch crying, again, but this time with tears of inspiration.
I watched Sarah Palin address the Republican National Convention, and I let my pity party pass with each tear streaming down my cheek.
I had not felt that inspired since I was fourteen years old attending National FFA Convention in Kansas City, watching nineteen and twenty year old students giving incredible speeches about living a life of leadership and service.
If a moose-hunting mother of five from Alaska can find within herself the strength and courage to run for the Vice President of the United States, then surely, oh surely, I could muster the enthusiasm to be a mommy of three and a mere daycare provider.
If a forty-four year old woman can bravely bring a baby into this world knowing the baby will suffer from Down's Syndrome, then surely, oh surely, I could have my third child before the age of thirty.
If a PTA mom can answer the call to serve her community and her state, all the while rearing a family, then surely, oh surely, I could seek ways to answer my own call to serve.
I may have been one of thirty-seven million viewers that night, but hearing her words was worth more to me than a million dollars of inspiration.
I have never really been one to get so down on life. Sure, there have been a few down times. But I have always found a way to come back quickly, tenacious and focused.
So when an outdoorsy, athletic, hockey mom from Alaska spoke to this uninspired outdoorsy, athletic mom in Kansas, maybe you can see why I was inspired to tears.
The pity party is over. It's official. Baby Goss #3 will be arriving in February. She (we're 99% positive it's a girl) will fill up this house...but with the precious love and laughter only God's gift of children can give. And maybe someday, she'll be Vice President.