The darkest hour

Admittedly, it was late, I hadn’t slept well the night before and it had been a busy day but I was going to allow myself every drop of self-pity I could muster. Simon heaved me up from where I sat sobbing on the kitchen floor and hugged me.

            ‘What’s up?’ He had the tone of an indulgent father. It was the one he used for our daughter when she got herself in a tizz. For a split second, I had a moment of clarity where I realised where she got her tantrums from.

            ‘I’m so tired of being pregnant!’ I wailed, dripping mascara down his white teeshirt. I was tired of feeling heavy and cumbersome, of the constant running to the loo, the restless legs, the heartburn, the not being able to paint my toenails. ‘And I’ve got three weeks to go till my due date. THREE WEEKS!’

It was pure self indulgent, drama queen hysterics, the kind only a seasoned actress can pull off, but the tears brought with them some release and cleansing and once the storm had passed, I felt calmer and saner than I had all week.

Don’t get me wrong, this has been a very straightforward pregnancy with no real complications. But I’m that little bit older, I’ve been working and looking after a toddler so it’s only to be expected that it was going to take a bigger toll on me physically. I’m no athlete either and while my general level of fitness is quite good, I’ve kicked myself more than once that I wasn’t in better shape before getting pregnant a second time.

They say the darkest hour is before the dawn. I’ve seen quite a few sunrises this summer, what with the way my baby is using my bladder as a trampoline and getting me up every hour of the night, and it’s true that there is an eery pitch to the sky just before the sun is born again. It’s the moment of transition when the end of the dark night is in sight and it feels very dark.

It can be the same with the final week of rehearsals or the last draft of a piece of writing; it feels like it is taking forever and the tension of waiting for the opening night or publication date is at fever pitch.

This week I took my daughter to check out a nearby nursery that we are considering enrolling her for in the autumn. She ran in and played with the toys, impressed the teacher with her articulate speech and recited nursery rhymes and I paused to consider where the last two and a half years had gone. I was once in that darkest hour of waiting for her birth and here she is in all her two year old glory, singing Baa Baa Black Sheep and making her opinions known at every available opportunity.

Henri Nouwen once wrote;

            ‘Wherever I am, at home, in a hotel, in a train, plane or airport, I would not feel irritated, restless, and desirous of being somewhere else or doing something else. I would know that here and now is what counts and is important because it is God himself who wants me at this time and place.’

So if you’re in that darkest moment with a piece of writing, and are impatient for the end to come, know that I stand with you and pray that God will give us both the grace to live fully in this time and place.

Melanie Clark Pullen is an actress and writer living in Ireland and is impatiently awaiting the birth of her second child.

Comments

[Bethany Smith]

Needed to hear this today.

[Heather]

Like Bethany, I needed this today. Someday I may say why. Or I may not. But know that you encouraged me.

[Jeanne Damoff]

Beautiful truth, beautifully told. Love this, Melanie -- not that you had a meltdown, but what God taught you (or reminded you) through it. I think I need to memorize that Nouwen quote.

Much love to you and your sweet growing family.
Jeanne

[Nicole]

Yes. Yes in so many ways.

[Noni Stapleton]

Melanie you are a beautiful artist. Thank you xnx