The Rest of the Story

I am 9 months pregnant with my second child, and it seems time to make a public confession.  I find pregnancy very difficult.  Through two pregnancies I have been very sick for the first 18-20 weeks, throwing up multiple times a day, every day.  The last trimesters involve physical discomfort, back pain, swelling, rashes, and other unpleasantries.  That leaves me about 8 weeks in the middle where I feel pretty good.  It seems like some great treason to admit this, like I am somehow betraying motherhood and my unborn child by this confession.

The truth is that I fiercely love my unborn daughter.  I love feeling her move and I cannot wait to meet her.  I had every reason to believe this pregnancy would be as uncomfortable as the first, and seeing the two pink lines on the pregnancy test was still one of the greatest moments of my life.  It is worth it, and I am tremendously blessed to carry this new life into the world.  And still, pregnancy is difficult for me.  It seems every other pregnant woman I see bops along happily and radiantly, somehow appearing more healthy and alive than ever.  Other pregnant women look so cute and make it seem effortless, but to my body it feels like a tremendous amount of work.  And it seems that seeing those other women manage maternity with so much grace only adds to my misery.

But not long ago a wise friend pointed out that most people probably don’t know that I am feeling miserable.  To others, it may appear that pregnancy is effortless and easy for me too.  Most do not know the rest of my story, just like I don’t know the rest of their story.  We only see glimpses of each other’s lives, and we do not know what happens in the quiet, private moments.

Many of us are constantly comparing ourselves to others.  We imagine that other people manage to keep their homes spotless at all times, respond patiently to their children, and handle stressful meetings with great calm and wisdom.  We see families at church, all clean and smiling, and we assume that this is how they live all of their lives.  We talk to friends and hear about their days, but do not hear about the fears and doubts that we ourselves are plagued with.  So we assume that it is just us, that everyone else has it all together and there is something fundamentally wrong with us.

But this is simply not true.  In my job I have the honor of hearing people’s stories, and not just the clean and smiling parts.  I hear about the fears, the struggles, the dark days, the hard times.  I hear what is behind the public presentation, and I know that the truth is that everyone struggles with something.  Everyone has areas of weakness and pain.  Everyone has hard seasons.  Everyone.

The problem is that we forget this, and because we think it’s just us, our pride keeps us locked inside ourselves.  We do not want to share our struggle because we think we’re the only one who is struggling.  Our suffering is compounded because we feel alone in it, alone with our pain, our fear, our insecurity.  Part of feeling alone is feeling like we “should” be able to manage.  If everyone else can handle the stress of life, I should be able to handle the stress of life.  And because I am not managing easily, there must be something wrong with me.  Instantly we have added a deep sense of shame to whatever struggle we are facing.

Please remember that you are not the only one.  We all struggle.  We all have weaknesses.  You, me, and every single person you ever encounter.  Being human means having limitations.  Life can be very, very hard.  And somehow, this brokenness and these limitations can draw us together in a powerful way.  It can be through our struggles and through our hard times that relationships are strengthened and deepened.  And, even more significantly, it can be through our struggles and hard times that we learn to turn to the Healer of All Wounds, the One who strengthens the weak and gives hope to the brokenhearted.

Not long ago I was with a group of women, and one friend shared a struggle that she felt very deeply and intensely.  One by one each person in the group admitted they too shared a similar struggle, that they had either been there or were there presently.  It was a powerful moment, as we let the curtains be pulled back and shared hidden parts of our stories with one another.  We looked to the Lord together. We encouraged one another and reminded each other that we are not alone.  And, we found comfort and grace by reminding each other of the rest of the story.