I have always remained very faithful to the truth that God has a plan for every single thing. Lately though, I’ve struggled to really live it! (Is that okay, or did I just contradict myself?) I wrote a couple months ago about our miscarriage. And trust me, I had no idea the impact it had on me, and the response to that post just overwhelmed my broken heart, and I am so so sorry to anyone who has experienced anything even kind of like what we did. I know there are those of you who were well beyond the nine week mark, and even those who weren’t, who experienced way worse physical and psychological impacts than I did. And again, I am seriously heartbroken for you.
Since then, we did the required waiting…wait for your regular cycle to happen. Wait for your hearts to heal (huh?). Wait for your body to tell you it’s ready again (I thought we were already ready, really?). I heard the oh-so-common comments that all began with “at least” or “look at it this way”….all that ended in eye roll responses from me. NEVER have I been upset with God… until this miscarriage.
And even still, I can TRUST that God has a plan. And that THAT pregnancy just wasn’t designed for MY body or US. It doesn’t change the fact that I wanted it. And that’s where my inner ugly steps out. She’s all “oh girl, that’s some crap. You want this. You have baby clothes already purchased. You have burp rags, and you even promised to breastfeed. THE THOUGHT.” Clearly God doesn’t respond to that inner ugly as my husband sometimes does! She’s not pretty. She’s not Godly. She’s not even logical. But “she” exists.
It seems that almost weekly I hear of someone new getting pregnant. Or I see a post from my cute pregnant friend about how hard her 45th week of pregnancy is (you’re fine. stop complaining. You’re a few days past your due date. reeeelax.). It bothers me to a point where I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to sign onto social media, I don’t want to even try for another baby. I’m just.so.mad. Or sad. Or both. I don’t know. It’s just…ugh.
The thing is, that pregnancy changed me. I can’t start the day without me or Ryan seeing the kids walk into their school. I can’t fathom the thought of someone else picking them up from school, because…what if it gets to be 2:32 and they haven’t seen the kids pop out from Door 10 yet? Will they know what to do? Who to ask? Who to text? Do they have the phone numbers of their friends? No. I do though. So I should be the one….who does….it all.
When it does all work out perfectly, when my mother in law nails pick up, and texts “they’re both home safely”, and I can finally stop obsessively checking my phone….I’m fine, or mostly. I talked to my mom about this- I wasn’t even this “bad” when the kids were babies, when they were completely helpless and unable to communicate openly with me. I chalk it up to being in my early twenties and naïve. Gaw, those were beautiful times, amIright? Things are just so.different.now.
I thought I had control before. I didn’t. I hate that I don’t have control now. I never did. So what’s different? I can’t answer that. I’ll never be able to. I just know that it’s hard. And it’s hard to hear about my friends being pregnant. (I love you all though, and I promise I AM happy for you. I’m just…jealous too.). I DO trust God. I DO trust His timing. I just selfishly wish it was similar to my timeline. That’s just my honest truth. My honest inner struggle. I love God. I trust His plan for my family. I’m just terrible at being patient and letting things happen. (but then….I look at my husband and think….I waited for 36 years for him….and look.)