Blog Post by Abby McDonald
“We recommend an ultrasound around thirty-two weeks for women thirty-five and older,” the doctor said as he helped me sit up on the exam table.
I wanted to see baby girl’s sweet face, but my first thought was, “Do I have time for this?”
I had to pick up my son from school, and the procedure wasn’t scheduled.
I wish I had more time.
I looked at the time on my phone and decided if they were quick, I could make it. And less than fifteen minutes later, I marveled at growing life, seven months young.
I stared at the tiny figure on the screen, amazed at how her features had changed in twelve short weeks. She was almost ready to make her entrance into the world. I ignored the growing pressure on my bladder and enjoyed every inch of her.
The tech noticed my discomfort.
“Don’t worry hon. We’re almost done.”
At this point, the clock was no longer important.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, shifting my position slightly.
Take your time. This moment will never come again.
After a few minutes, she finished up and wiped the sticky gel off my belly. I held the series of snapshots she’d captured, grateful to have a keepsake of this time.
Time is all we have in this life, isn’t it? And lately, pregnancy has me in a constant flux of slow down and hurry up.
I’m so tired of being pregnant. I can’t wait to meet our little girl.
Oh wait! The nursery isn’t ready. Slow down, baby. Just a little while longer.
A few days after my doctor’s appointment, my oldest son lost another tooth. His first one on the top and another milestone. I snapped a picture of his smile with my iPhone and thought about the first time I held him in my arms.
Now I can’t pick him up without paying for it with back spasms.
In every moment I want to grab and freeze a while longer, I realize that I can’t slow time. I can’t stop my kids from growing up or keep them in their toddler beds until they’re teenagers.
I can’t stop them from asking questions I am completely unprepared to answer like, “Where do babies come from?” or “Can I be in the delivery room when she’s born?”
When a dear friend is offered a job in another state, I can’t stop her from moving away. I wouldn’t want to.
And as the warm air turns brisk and the leaves turn vibrant shades of red and orange, I know I can’t slow their fall.
Time will not slow down, but I can.
I can stop and look people in the eye. I can put down my phone when someone is talking to me and listen to what they’re saying instead of rehearsing how I’ll respond. When someone seems distant, I can reach out instead of pretending nothing is wrong.
Time is all we have.
When you’re growing a little human inside of you, you’re made painfully aware of the ticking clock. Each kick and discomfort reminds you time is not only precious, but short.
I see countless articles on social media about ways to multiply your time, multi-task and get the most out of each second. But the longer I carry this baby, the more I see the truth.
Perhaps the only sure way to multiply our time is to savor it.
It isn’t by rushing from one activity to the next or trying to do twenty things at once. It’s by being intentional, slowing down, and seeing the blessings right here in front of us.
A well-known passage from Ecclesiastes beautifully describes the seasons of life and how there’s a time for each one. A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to be silent and a time to speak. (Ecclesiastes 3)
As I read the passage today, what struck me is how the writer doesn’t say, “A time to rush through life. A time to multi-task.”
Because a life spent rushing isn’t a life at all.
Time is all we have, friends. Let’s spend it savoring the things that matter most.
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Abby McDonald is a writer who can’t contain the lavish love of a God who relentlessly pursues here, even during her darkest times. When she’s not chasing her two little boys around, she loves hiking, photography, and consuming copious amounts of coffee with friends.