Not what you had planned

I have been mentally forming several ‘motherhood’ posts in anticipation of mother’s day and all that it means to me. I want to write about my mom; the virtuous woman who gave me life and continues to pour sweetness into it. I want to write about the moms around me whom I have learned so much from. I want to write about all the things motherhood has come to mean to me personally. I am bursting with words about my favorite subject, but can not proceed until I get this post written. I will write about all of those things in the upcoming week, but every time I sit down to write one if the posts I have planned on I can not get that woman out of my mind. I don’t want to feel the pain that this post will inevitably bring up. In some ways I feel I have no right to enter into emotions I have not felt in their deepest form.I don’t even know what to say or where to begin. I just know that I have been led to write this. You are the woman who longs to be a mother. You smile bravely at those who tell you their good news. You hug them and try to act as cheerful as possible. You are happy. Really. You just want so desperately to be in their shoes. You fill your life with things that make you happy. You try to be content where God has placed you. -But you can’t deny that deep ache inside. It really hurts. Your instincts are like a compass, always pointing you towards that longing. North for you is a baby. A certain day in May heightens your awareness of disappointments and unmet expectations. Every where you look there are expanding bellies and soft bundles of pink and blue. Why is it that right when it hurts the most, it seems that every one you know is effortlessly achieving the one thing you want more than any thing else on earth? “God, you created this desire, this is YOUR plan! Why isn’t it my turn?” –You don’t hear an answer. Sometimes you feel angry, and then you feel guilty. He does hear each prayer. He sees each tear. He knows. You hear moms complain about the lack of sleep, the endless crying, 2 am feedings, a seemingly out of control body, stretch marks. How can you convey to them that you would do it all in a heartbeat?! You would smile each time you caught your escalating figure in the mirror. You would wear the marks of a woman giving life as a true privilege. You imagine what your baby would look like. You buy a couple of the cutest baby outfits you have ever seen – because you can’t resist! Then you hide them, only getting them out to gaze at them when you need to grieve. You wonder what is wrong with you. The ache that assaults you each month comes from a secret speculation- what have you done to deserve this? You wonder if you’ve done something wrong -or perhaps you are just broken. Dear woman, I want so much to tell you that your patience will be worth it. That this amazing process of carrying a child within your body will be yours to experience someday. But I can’t. I know you have heard the pat answers and cliche's about God working all things together for good, about all of the babies who need homes out there. They are both true and good, but maybe right now you just need to hear that it’s okay to grieve lost dreams. I certainly don’t have answers, but I wish I could hug you, cry with you, tell you how much I hurt for you. I would do any thing in my power to give you this gift. It is not in my power. "God is God and I am not. I can only see a part of the picture he's painting". I just want you to know that I am thinking about you so much this year. Your face has taken numerous different forms in my life; you are so many women who I know right now. You are at church with me, you are at work with me, you are part of my on-line community, I shop beside you at the grocery store. I want so much to run to you and sob with you, but instead I often walk away form you. I don't want to amplify your pain. When I was pregnant I especially felt awkward around you. You didn't want me to feel weird, but sometimes I think you secretly appreciated my distance. You don't want pity. You don't want a 'quick fix' from friends, no matter how well intentioned. You want a baby. Oh how you want a baby! You have heard of the ache of empty arms before, but never knew the literal implications until infertility became an uninvited term in your daily life. God will use you to touch the lives of the women who need to know they aren’t alone. He will lead you, He will guide you. He will show you the next step to take. He longs to have you run to Him. Bring Him your hurts. He wants to comfort you. You are worth so much in His sight. So very, very much!