I can still taste the longing.
The want tinged with bitterness.
The betrayal every. single. month.
I can still feel the peace.
The reluctant letting go.
The opening of my hands.
I can still remember the refusal to admit it.
The terror/awe/fear/delight.
The sheer joy.
And here she is, now, today. Three years old. Every inch of her a miracle-- just like every other child who has ever been conceived, no matter the circumstances.
But this miracle? This one is ours. This one was gifted to our family even after words failed and hearts were made whole again.
This one sits at my table and sings "Amazing Grace." This one is the pickiest dresser ever. This one dances all day, every day.
This one is Seven, and it's her birthday. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for bringing her to us. And thank you to every loyal reader who remembers the days of brokenness and prayer and who walked alongside me. Celebrate with us!
I walked by a kiosk in the mall the other day and I found myself coveting again.
No, not the amazing Tupperware collections, a cell plan or a radio controlled helicopter ...
It's those darn ornaments with an entire mantle full of neatly labeled stockings. ((sigh))
Every single year I look at those ornaments. Every. single. year. I look at them, and I count the stockings and I multiply the happiness in my family by two or three and I think to myself, "This is what I want in my life, Lord."
So far, God's plan has been different. I am resigned to the fact that another Christmas is upon us, and we still have exactly six stockings hanging on our mantle. One of those, incidentally, is for the dog.
I realize that this is a whiny thing. I have so much to be thankful for--namely those four stockings that represent the people I love most in this world. On a good day, I'll even throw in the four-legged friend as well, provided that those four legs aren't tracking mud on my kitchen floor. I also realize that, barring any unforeseen tragedy, by next Christmas, I will have at least one more stocking hanging on my mantle through the miracle of adoption.
And really, how many couples hope and dream and pray that some day, their marriage will be blessed enough to add new little stockings alongside their own two? And here I am, with a healthy daughter and two sons, waiting on more ... eyeing the ornaments in a kiosk and wondering if I will ever have the family my heart desires. I know that I have no right to complain. But the ache is still there ...
Clearly, God is still working on me in this area. He's led us on a rocky path that has finally brought us here--impatiently waiting for the phone call that will be the equivalent of going into labor. We had no idea five years ago that we would ever desire more children in our lives. So who knows? In five more years, I could have just one more stocking to hang at Christmas time and find myself perfectly content. Or, I could be looking at a mantle brimming over and think to myself "There's still room for more." I can't even begin to guess where God's plan for our family is going.
So, if I make it to the mall again this season, I've decided that I'm buying one of those ornaments. Sure, it'll only have six stockings on it, but it'll represent the family that I have now, as we celebrate Christmas 2007. That's where I need to be--right where I am.
... no longer even having an inkling that you might, somehow, maybe, possibly be pregnant during those last two weeks of your cycle.
Hating the phrase, "...and we weren't even trying!" even when you love the people that are saying it.
... announcing someone else's good news to your husband, hearing a long pause, and then the dear man asking, "How are you, love?"
The official two years ttc mark hit today. Two years. Happy birthday, ovulatory anxiety!
Makes me want to go back in time and clock myself for all those "All he has to do is look at me ..." funnies I threw out back when I had just had my third baby in just over four years.
Live and learn.
