I have a headache. My legs hurt. I feel like I need to stretch but don’t have the energy to do so. I hate that I know that the energy would come if I would just get up and move around. But that takes effort. I feel like effort is not something I can put forth right now. Because I have a headache.
I want to be done with school. I want to not feel guilty about not being heavily involved in a ministry. I feel like I’m tired and slightly burned out, which is dumb because I just got back from vacation.
I feel that it’s unfair that all these women in my life can all have babies and I can’t. I feel that it has been long enough—how much longer until it’s my turn? Do I get a turn? Maybe I won’t!?
That feeling scares me. I feel like it’s not going to happen. That I’m not going to be blessed with my own baby.
I want to experience pregnancy. I want to feel my baby kick inside of me. I want to have horrible heartburn, I want to puke every morning, I want to have swollen feet and I want to have to buy a fake cheap wedding band at Wal-Mart because my fingers are too big to wear my real one.
I want to have beautiful hair and strong nails. I want my pants to be tight. I want to be able to sleep only on one side and have to hug a body pillow just to be comfortable. I want to fight with Erik over names.
I want to avoid coffee and deli meats for 9 whole months, just because they might harm my baby. I want to feel fat. I want to waddle. I want to wonder if I’ll ever see my toes again. I want to have to ask for help to tie my shoes. I want to not have to clean the litter box. I want people telling me that I’m the cutest pregnant woman they’ve ever seen. I want to not be able to travel.
I want to be pregnant. And it’s my turn.
GOD!! I just keep plodding along, but I’m tired Lord. I’m tired. I want to be a mom. Is that too much to ask? For me? For Jenni? For
So when is it our turn God? When do we get to hold our babies in our arms? To see their little eyes looking up at us with such love and trust?
When do we get to watch our sons learn to play baseball, and our daughters dress cabbage patch dolls?
When is it our turn to clean up spaghetti stains and organize millions of toys?
When do we get the privilege of getting no sleep and making multiple runs to Target for diapers and formula?
When, God, is it my turn to feel a baby kicking, to deal with hiccups at 2am, to feel the pain of Braxton Hicks?
When God? How much longer? Where are You in this???? You could snap Your fingers, and I could be pregnant. Is this not what You have for me? When in the world IS Your timing? Soon….please God soon.
I feel so obligated to write something about how I know it’s Your timing, I know You are here, I know this is for my own good…
but I just sometimes want to ask the questions. I want them hanging out there, unanswered, because it feels good to let them hang. Good in an extremely empty, desperate way. Good in a strangely depressing way.
After so long, it feels good to question—to honestly vent, question and not feel obligated to remind myself and others reading that I know His words on waiting, growing, challenging, disciplining. Sometimes, I just don’t care. I want to be sad. I want to play the victim; I want to whine.
When is it my turn??
Dear Former Me--it's my turn!!!!! Bubba's strong and healthy and coming very very soon! The Lord is good--no matter how I'm feeling.