Then the boys called, my day started, and I walked away, leaving my blissful dream under rumpled sheets and thick covers.
A week later, my errands included baby-buying gifts for two women due in July. When my mind started to wonder, I turned my thoughts and pressed beyond the grasp of the monster’s nail.
Then I got the news.
Glorious, exciting, the-day-we-prayed-for news. A young couple we had been praying for got pregnant after much heartache and trial. The insides of my heart beamed with joy, but after a few minutes, the depths of my heart surfaced and I nearly suffocated with the heaviness of what I felt.
Another club member left me for a more exclusive, wanted, and sought-after mommy-by-birth membership.
And I felt alone.
I want to write this post so that you know the reality of what I face and feel, but I hate myself for the honesty in it. I don’t want to feel this way… I don’t want there to be conditions and limitations of my joy and support of others because of my own inward battles. But, wrangling the head of my barren beast is a war I’m so often too tired to fight.
The weird part is that it’s never about the carrying, birthing, or feeding of a Ben and Rebekah formed child. It is always about the ease of process, timing, and raising (a baby from birth). Here we are, three years into adoption, and I’m still begging God for an easy button.
Some days I just want to close up shop, clap my hands, and move on with life as a permanent family of four. But that is, truly, not what God has put in my heart.
Because I’m confident that babies will not birth from my belly, I’m asking God to settle my heart and whisper encouragement…while also easing us into number three with extra grace and patience, as the measure we have is wearing very thin...