Living the easy life

Alright, dear readers, it’s time for another exciting post by yours truly. Are you ready? Good. Because I have some disclaimers. First, I really have no room to talk about today’s subject, since I have no experience whatsoever in this area. Second, I really only had one disclaimer. But it sounded better with two. Okay, here we go.

A few days ago Krista told the Romgi and I about a lady in her ward who is having a baby sometime soon. (By “sometime soon” I mean in the next 9 months. No idea how pregnant she is, but let’s pretend she’s 7 months.) This lovely woman is planning on having the baby at home, sans midwife or doula — just her and her husband. Which I think would be fine except that it’s her first baby. Here is where my lack of experience comes into play, and I ignore that. WHAT IS SHE THINKING?! Apparently she and her husband bought a book about emergency births and if anything goes wrong (which, according to her, it won’t), they’ll just pull that out. Um, so this is what could happen:

Wife: What’s going on?! Something is wrong!!
Husband: I don’t know! The baby is turning weird colors! I think the cord is wrapped around its neck!
Wife: Quick, grab the book!
Husband: ……………..Where did you put it?!?

You get the point. Anyway, Krista said that the primary reason this lady has for doing such a risky (in my eyes) thing is that she wants to be comfortable. I believe her words were something like, “What if I want to take a bath or watch a movie?” Again with the no experience bit: but I’m pretty sure that you could find someplace in a hospital to take a bath, or even watch a movie. Doing both at once, though — well, she’s right, then. You could only do that at home. Why bother with people who have childbirth experience? Seriously, couldn’t she at least have another woman there, one who has actually had babies before? Maybe they’re trying to save money. Maybe they’re in that unfortunate income range where they don’t qualify for Medicaid but can’t afford insurance. And if I were in that situation…I WOULD HAVE SOMEONE THERE WITH ME! Krista and the Romgi and I had a good long rant about the seeming recklessness of this decision. Sure, the wife will be comfortable enough while she’s lounging around, but what happens when she actually goes into labor? Don’t people usually take classes or at least talk to someone to help prepare them for the experience? Because I’m pretty sure that childbirth is a big deal.

Oh wait, I wouldn’t know. Obviously this lady does. Here’s a toast to her completely stress-free delivery.

(Dear readers with and without any knowledge on this subject, you are now free to comment.)

Seven deadly sins

Dear readers, you may or may not have been raised as devout Catholics. I was not. So I had to refer to Wikipedia to make sure I had my list of seven deadly sins straight. And according to Wikipedia, the sins are lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Interestingly, sloth was originally called the sin of apathy and sadness. The early church leaders felt that individuals who refused to “enjoy the goodness of God and the world He created” were serious transgressors.

You may think that I’m leading up to a post about depression. In fact, I’m not, though you’ll probably see an entry on that later. What I’m getting at is a connection between the sin of sloth (or apathy, or sadness, or whatever) and ingratitude.

When we fail to recognize the many blessings God has given us — when we feel that “I got where I am today by my own work, with no one’s help” — in a way we are refusing to acknowledge His goodness. (As a further disclaimer, I am NOT trying to say that depression is the result of ingratitude.) To the early church leaders, that was a big deal. A big bad deal. I think I do a pretty good job of realizing how blessed I am. But there’s one area where I am the biggest sinner of sloth there ever was, and that is acknowledging the blessings I get from other people. Often someone will go out of their way to be nice to me or make my day better, and I’m so caught up in myself that I either don’t notice or I point out how they didn’t actually help me.

By now you may realize what I’m trying to say. Yep, I am frequently a lousy wife. And even though I know what I need to do is mend things with two very sincere words (“I’M SORRY!”), I wanted the rest of you dear readers to get on my case about being more grateful. Tell me to be nice, ok? Remind me that I have a good life, and a great marriage, and that I should appreciate that — not yell about it.

Thanks, readers.