Dying to be kicked

In light of the recent deaths, Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Micheal Jackson, and Billy Mays, I am reminded of my thoughts about dying. This during the latter part of my pregnancy with Sophia. I considered the thought that I might not make it through the c-section. I recall, while they were wheeling me to the surgery room, wanting to grab Dave’s hand and whisper my proclamation of my love for him and our kids and give my last wishes. I didn’t … thinking too movie drama-like. The thoughts again came when I was pregnant with Steven. Again wanting to grab Dave’s hand and share my fears and wishes. Needless to say, I survived the surgeries. I’m sure the anxiety had a lot to do with hormones but the fear was real. It gave me an opportunity to ask myself, “What legacy would I be leaving? What would family and friends remember about me? What would be their thoughts?” But above all, thinking “Oh crap, the house is a mess!”. People will think for sure that I’m cluttered in the head since I’ve got a cluttered home!

I am not ready to go! I’m embarrass to say so because … I am cluttered in the head!! Some of what people see is a face. I don’t have it all together. I’m an emotional eater, short tempered, a rat-pack, a procrastinator, hypertensive, scared, got the “only if …” syndrome, etc. But all this because I’ve got spiritual issues that need to be addressed. Someone kick me!! Hard. Maybe hit me with a frying pan.

Oddly enough, in the depths of me, I am grateful for Heavenly Father’s patience with me. I can’t help but feel his love and longing for me to succeed. He’s just waiting for me to do my part.