Third Trimester Cravings: Puppies


The other night I made a huge, colossal mistake. And I paid the price for it. My husband got some of the backwash from it.

I allowed myself to look at puppies online. 

I don't mean cute, fluffy, edited photos that are plastered all over Pinterest and elicit the "awws." I mean I looked up puppies that were free. Or for sale. In my area. 

Why was this such a gargantuan mistake? Because we can't have a puppy, or a dog of any kind, in our current state. Our apartment is teeny (563 sq. ft.), for starters, and we happen to live on the third floor. This means we'd have to take a stairs hike every time the pup had to go outside, and stairs are something that #tiredlittlepregnantgirl in the third trimester can barely handle once or twice a day. Besides that, there's the whole financial part of it. And then there's the fact that in a little over a month we are going to have a tiny baby to deal with. Changing diapers while simultaneously potty training a puppy might be a tad too much. Even if I think I can totally handle that.  

These are the reasons that have kept me at a firm shaky no when it comes to the dog scenario.

Despite this line of facts, I became deeply depressed that I could not have a puppy. I feel like I'm losing my mind just getting fatter and fatter until the baby comes out; a puppy would be the perfect thing to distract me, okay?!

Finally, exhausted with arguing with myself, I shut it all down. And then I cried. Because I couldn't have a puppy. You know those pregnancy food cravings you get at midnight that you just have to have? Yeah. This is like that. I'm "craving" a puppy. The more I tell myself I can't have one, the more I want one.

This is only about the fifth time during this pregnancy that I've lost it because I can't have a puppy. I mean I have sobbed over this.

I blew my nose into one of our cardboard-like tissues (because I'm too cheap to buy name brand) and I took some steadying breaths while trying not to picture puppies in my head.

Those big, emotional eyes, that soft fur, those clumsy little legs...all I could see in my head is having a cuddle buddy. Someone to go on walks with. Someone to talk to other than my round belly when I'm home all day. I just want to love a little furball and have them love me back. And if I asked my husband, I know without a doubt that he would get me a puppy and be overjoyed to have a dog in his life again...


...the reality is that it would love my husband more than me, and I'd end up feeling left out while dealing with training it (my husby is a wonderful person, but he is not the best at saying no to animals with adorable faces). Which means that we'd end up with a poorly trained dog rampaging in our cramped apartment with a screaming baby and a very irascible me.

I can know all this, but it doesn't matter. It's like cheese and drive-in movie theaters and steak - a flitting desire that decides to lodge itself in my subconscious and won't let go. We could do it. We could do the impetuous thing (wouldn't be the first time) and get a puppy and deal with the consequences that follow. Yet all the aforementioned reasons will not allow me to plunge forward in this pursuit.

Someone please tell me about their emotional breakdowns while pregnant...their irrational desires...their intense cravings that refuse to go away...I simply do not know how to deal with this puppy thing in my head! 

Doubt

I can't help but stare longingly at the photos in my newsfeed, tracking with wistful eyes the plates of exotic food, the views I've never seen before, the action shots of doing new activities that I know often land in your lap when you're off traveling. When you go on an adventure, the adventure starts to take hold of you...

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to..." (J.R.R. Tolkien)

I miss that feeling. The road sweeping me away. Being surrounded by people who step up and say, "Hey, let's do this," and I go and do without a thought otherwise. Fear is a thing to be challenged, and all I want to do is keep living gloriously so that I have a story to tell later. 

I sigh and whisper intently to myself, "But you're on a different adventure now."

I see my husband sleeping soundly next to me, feel our unborn baby kicking my ribs...and I know that I am not wrong. This is a whole new world of exploration.

But as I tuck my phone away, trying to pretend that all that exists is this moment where I am here (and not a thousand others where I've been somewhere else), I feel betrayed by adventure. I was on an adventure in Colorado; that's how I ended up here. I wanted it to springboard me into a thousand other wanderings...then, when I was exhausted by travel and new people, then would I settle and find a nest.
But it's like the settling found me instead.

I don't like being told I have to do something. I have always thrashed against social norms and basic life principles that really aren't worth fighting against. Somehow, I let a tiny thought grow in my heart. I watered it and watched it take over. The thought is now a small tree:

Being a wife and mother was forced on you.


And that thought, as you can imagine, changes everything. It adds an aspect of fear and apprehension to the pregnancy that doesn't need to be there. It keeps me second-guessing my self-worth as a "just" a wife, without a job or goal or purpose in life.

It makes me the victim, caught in life like it's some storm that I am powerless to face.

"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways." (James 1:5-8)

But I am not a victim. I made the choices that landed me here (if you don't know my marriage/pregnancy story, that's one for another time). And more than that, I believe in a God that brings His plan out of whatever mess that I make. Or at least...I say I believe that. 

It's time I face this. Kill that weed-tree sowing doubt within me. Surrender to what God has for me in this very place, in a tiny Colorado apartment on a Saturday morning with a mug of granola and almond milk for breakfast. Step out of the darkness and into the light. 


As a wife and mother, I have even more of a challenge to be an adventurer. To instill the love of adventuring in my child (the child that's getting very close to coming out of me and meeting the real world). To not just read and talk about the things I believe, but live them in a way that changes my family. 

Talk about responsibility. Makes me want to run away a little bit. But I hear the whisper that has stilled my heart before,

"You are not your own. You are mine. I choose when you will stay and when you will go."

God has had to remind me of this a lot. When I want to stay, He asks me to go. And when I want to go? He tells me it's time to stay. And my purpose is to listen and obey. 
My laptop died, so all these photos are swiped from ones of me that are on Facebook...pic creds go to my lovely friends Dailyn (over at BlessedBlossom) and Jenn (who I think has stopped blogging for the moment).