I write this after spending an afternoon doing yard work in February. That is the Midwest for you. But as I cut down old plants, I saw life budding. It was like a perfect, tangible example right in God’s creation of the fertile living amongst the infertile. It showed new life coming as other stems sat only wishing to live.
To my dear mommas or especially soon-to-be mommas, know that I am happy for you and thankful for you, that I am so glad for your joy. I am thankful that I get to learn how I want to be a mom to our future kids as I watch you with yours. I know that you are excited and in love with those babies in your bellies. But please appreciate that I am sorry that I don’t ask a lot of questions. Sorry that I do feel a little sadness in my heart each time I see an announcement. Sorry that I can’t always fight the pain that creeps in when I see you with your bulging bellies. Know that I care how your journey is going but sometimes forming the words and asking the questions hurts. Sometimes I can’t push myself to do it. I pray for a heart that can be void of the hurt and instead full of joy for you mommas, but I’m still working on it.
Then I think of the words you offer up to try to take away that pain. It’s so sweet of you, and I know it’s from a heart of love. Sometimes, though, the hugs mean more than the phrases. Sometimes the shoulder to lean on means more than the “it will happen, it will all work out.” Sometimes the ear to listen means more than the “you’re young, you have so much time.” I am so thankful for you trying, but sometimes that pain inside of me that I can’t seem to always control decides to hear your words and break through. Break through the carefully constructed veil of joy.
Maybe this is all just me. Maybe I can’t just throw this blanket over all the infertile living amongst the fertile. Maybe some of you out there don’t have that silly pain. Maybe some of you are able to control it better. So, if that’s the case, then this is just a narrative of my journey. But if you are sitting in this spot too, know you’re not alone. But also know that we have a Heavenly Father that hears us and has grace on us. A God that loves us through it and gives us a shoulder to cry on as he wipes away our tears. A God that is still SO good to us. A God that has a perfect plan.
So now as I look back at the beginning of this and those plants I was trimming back today, I think of a new perspective. There is growth coming out of the lifeless. That where there is stillness, there is also growth. Beautiful, green, budding growth. There is so much growth in this season. I know that. So when I choose to only see the lack of life, I pray that I can see the beauty of life currently blooming. The joy of a life going exactly as it is planned as I get to kneel before my Father and say, “I am yours.”
The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.