Sunday, October 27, 2013

The Difference

The difference between a "couple" and a "family" is one
One sweet pea to bring home.

One is the difference between being a wife and a mother. One is the difference between being a husband and a daddy. Oh how I'd love to change my title, our title. more mouth to feed; one more reason to not sleep through the night; one more worry; one more responsibility. I know. ...but you can't change my heart.

My love and desire for a little one (our little one) laying on my chest, or curled up on my lap, overshadows any anxiety or worry about parenthood.
 When I think about becoming a little family of three, I think how lovely it would be to celebrate Christmas morning with our own family traditions. I think about all the things I'd like us to do...

Autumn walks, decorating pumpkins, and dressing up.  Snow angels, hot cocoa and 3 stockings hanging up.  Wagon rides and flower picking. Running around in the rain. Swinging and sliding and climbing, summertime popsicles and sprinkler fun.

Bedtime routines, tooth brushing, bath time, pajama dancing, reading, singing and late-night snuggles. Brushing hair off their forehead and kissing their soft cheeks and nose.

Watching their face as they learn something new or stand in amazement over something seemingly simplistic.

I think about how their daddy would dearly love them and hug them and teach them all sorts of things.
I think about how, if something happens to my love someday, I'll have a little piece of him -- maybe with his crazy hair and smiling eyes and sense of humor.

I really want to share something special. 

Just one, please, God.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

A Sore Reminder

It's hard to see adorable pregnancy pictures, baby announcements, family photos, and gushing parent/grandparent stories of cuteness and sweetness and pride.

But It's harder to hear stories about girls having kids in high school, parents that abuse or neglect the kids that they never wanted to begin with, the system scammers that purposefully get pregnant as a means of maintaining government assistance or 'keeping up' with other family members. It's hard to hear about 'accidents' and babies born to single parents who wished things would have turned out differently.
It hurts because... while it obviously doesn't matter to some, it matters to me. 

It's hard to be in pain. Physical pain is like a magnifying glass for all (regularly bearable) emotional triggers.

It's that time of month... The physically exhausting and painful phase when bending, bumping, laughing, hugging, sneezing, sitting, laying, twisting... breathing... seems to hurt.  When normal activities, like reaching to get a glass from the top shelf of the cupboard or putting on pajama pants, make you hold your breath and close your eyes.  When no pose or posture takes away the ache.

Thank God these "phases" come with a break in between. I can't tell you how grateful I am that the pain usually doesn't last for days on end --like some of my friends who deal with excruciating pain and treatments on a daily basis.  At least in my case, the few days of 'ouch,' usually come and go pretty quickly.

By God's grace I managed to make it past moving month and past my 1st month at work before any significant hurt set in. God got me through the majority of my work day today without any unmanageable (or visible) signs or pain and I'm scheduled to have the day off tomorrow.  Thank you, God!

But I'm having a hard time today -- tonight -- this week.

First came "the fever".
My familiar friend.  Hoping, wishing and trying to wait patiently for my turn/our turn. Oogling over little ones, sweet families, adorable outfits. Making light of family hopes and "when we-s".

Then comes the pain.
The sore reminder of a vacant oven and (potentially) broken one. Always unexpected and never to be counted on. Always depressing. Always.

Today, instead of trying to cover a baby bump like so many of my friends, I try to stay comfortable and cover a swollen mid-section. I continue on with work, and chores, and social obligations, while so deeply wishing that God hadn't said no.  ...wishing that plans wouldn't change and efforts would count for something.

So today, I'm simply grateful that...
Even at my worst, in my hurt... God is still good, and I am still human. ...And He still loves His girl. 

..And that reminds me, once again, of how desperate I am for the kind of comfort only He can give.