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A Bad Pair of Undies

It all adds up to a day like today.
Sitting in an extremely uncomfortable office chair, hunching over a laptop, eating Hot Tamales, and reading things that make me cry. It's as if I'm addicted to the tears, and yet somehow immune to them. They surface and slide down my cheeks and splash on the desk in front of me, but their meaning gets lost somewhere along the way. The intent behind the sorrow loses it's poignancy and I'm somehow left void of any sense of their purpose.
There are days like today where I wonder what I'm waiting for. What's holding me back, keeping me down, telling me to stop? Sometimes I think the Lord does that, and sometimes I think I do that. I go back to the familiar because it's familiar, but it's a cold comfort and even a little evil in it's familiarity. I'm trying to be happy for those who are seeing their dreams come to life, because it's good to be happy for those things. But I also feel sad for myself. Yes people. I am feeling sorry for myself. I'm not saying that's a pretty state of mind and I'm definitely not saying that I want to stay in this place of self pity, but I am saying that I'm tired of birth announcements that aren't mine. I often feel like I'm at fault for us not getting pregnant, and I've noticed this cycle, or an equation of sorts...., it looks a little something like this:



             

I live life, I move with a perpetual forward motion, one day to the next. I would call myself blessed and thankful for the motion that I get to move with. The additions to my life's equation are pretty phenomenal. I got these guys:



Yeah. They're pretty great....., especially the one on the left. I actually want him to kiss me....., the other one......., well, he's a little on the sloppy side.
These people in my life, my husband, our families, these are people that I value and cherish and I am so thankful that I get to call them "mine"..., in as much as that word means in our extremely temporal and temporary existence. They are who God has given me and I am so very thankful that He has.

Here's the part where I get real guys.

I often sit at a table with women and friends that I love. I listen to their chatter and I watch their kids wreak havoc around me. They talk about being moms, they talk about their babies, they talk about childbirth, they talk about the pains and joys of being moms.

And I sit there. And I silently crawl inside of myself a little more, and I feel this chasm widen between me and the women who are sharing their lives in small conversations and laughter. It's so screamingly lonely and I have no idea how to tell them that if I hear one more thing about childbirth, pregnancy, raising kids, being a mom......., well. I don't know what I'm going to do. 

I want to yell, "I'VE HAD A BABY TOO!!!!! I GAVE BIRTH!!!!! SHE HAS A NAME!!!!!"

I want to tell them how painful the waiting is. How very isolating. How hard it is to feel heard, or validated. The reality is, they can't give that validation to me. No one can. I find that fact so very, very annoying. A baby isn't the answer to feeling validated as a woman. I would never look at my female friends who don't have children and tell them, "No..., sorry. You don't really matter." So why do I think that my mom friends are looking at me with such disdain or pity?
So this is where the equation ends. Fists clenched. Arms raised in frustration, fear, despair, defiance, anger. Eye faucets on at full blast.
And here's how the sum of that equation plays out in real life;
I punish myself.
That's how it plays out.
I overeat, or I don't eat at all. I stop washing my hair. I forget to take showers or brush my teeth. I look at my fat body and I call it names and feel that my husband couldn't possibly want me. I delve into toxic familiar patterns. I don't exercise. I gain weight. I spend an entire day on the couch watching tv, doing literally nothing. I think thoughts that I shouldn't...., like, "It would be better if I was dead."
The list could go on...., but I'll stop it here.
I punish myself because it's my fault. Losing Edy. Miscarrying the second baby. Not getting pregnant again. Being fat. Being unattractive. Being unhealthy. I carry all the ugly as my own and I wear it like undergarments that have to be put on everyday. I wake up and I put the ugly undies on. Again and again. Day in, Day out.
It's hard for me to admit these things to myself, much less write them down in a blog. Talk about indecent exposure. 
I'm not in a place right now where I can give a nice resolution to the myriad of aches and pains that I just laid out. The fact is guys...., I don't have an answer. I don't have a bow for the gift and I don't know where to go from here. 

A few nights ago I convinced Dustin to read a couple verses of Song of Solomon out loud with me before bed. I love doing this..., even if it makes him cringe at the corny factor. It came time to read my bit of passage and I found myself instantly in tears..., reading through the lump in my throat and laughing at my instant, knee-jerk emotional reaction. This group of words, put together to make sentences meant to be read, with the intent to be understood. This scripture;

My beloved spoke and said to me,
"Arise, my darling,
 my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
 the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
 the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
 is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
 the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
 my beautiful one, come with me."
- Song of Solomon 2:10-13 NIV

That one.
Those potent verses that come up and wrap their words around my heart and squeeze it until it calls out "Uncle!" in desperation.
They are powerful because they remind me that God has a promise for me. That I will know life. That I will see spring come to the areas withered by the winter snow and sleet. I have written about this passage of scripture multiple times. On this blog, in fact. I read my old post and I feel bitter about this. I was hoping to see that new life by now, for crying out loud.
How do I reconcile this disappointment?
Does God need me to make excuses for Him?
Does this lapse of time negate the validity of His promise?


Mariam.

Is He God or is He God?


How long did Jacob have to wait for His Rachel?
How long did Sarah suffer as the barren woman before God fulfilled His promise of a child?
How long did Hannah wait for her baby Samuel all while being provoked and teased for being barren?
How many people in the Bible have had to wait..., and not only wait, but suffer while they're waiting?

A. Lot.

For all of those who had to, and chose to, wait on the Lord, when He fulfilled His promise He fulfilled it and then some. The barren women; Sarah, Hannah, Elizabeth, Rebekah...., they suffered, they prayed, they cried out, they mourned their barren state....., and what did God give them? Each one of those women birthed world changers. Not just kids who grew up, got jobs, got married and had kids of their own. No these dudes were game changers. They paved the way for the promises of God for His People.
Soooooo......, I can rest pretty darn confident in the fact that I'm not the first woman out there to cry out to God for a child. And if these stories in the Bible are as true as I believe them to be, then I can also rest confidently in the absolute FACT that God honors His promises.

In the moments like today, when I can't hide from my barren state and I am surrounded be women who are not barren, never have been, and hopefully never will be....., it's hard to feel comforted by a promise. And if I'm being honest...., I'm not comforted by it. Because it's not happening right now, which is exactly when I want it to be happening. All I can really do is take a cue from Hannah and silently pray that God can end the waiting and the suffering soon.
I can also be faithful in caring for and valuing this life He has given me.
I am on a quest to learn how to do that. I am proactively seeking help for the unhealthy physical and mental patterns that I have coexisted with for far too long. I am a nervous adventurer, but an adventurer none the less.


Just so you all know....., the one thing that gives me comfort on the rotten days, is this:



9 year old Mariam is woken from a sound sleep by the nightmare that had invaded her dreams. She runs into the living room where her parents are still awake, crying for her daddy to take the bad dreams away.
He reaches down for her and pulls her onto his lap.
"You know Mariam," he says, wiping her tears "you don't have to run to me everytime you have a bad dream."
"I don't?" She replies in her wavering, small voice.
"No. Do you know why?"
Mariam shakes her had back and forth.
"Do you see how I have you sitting on my lap and I'm hugging you?"
Mariam nods her head.
"When you are scared, your Father in Heaven can lift you up onto His lap, just like I did. He can hug you close and hold your head to his heart so that you can hear His heartbeat. He can give you peace and sing in your ear."
A smile started to grow on Mariam's face as her Daddy continued to talk about the Lord. She felt sunshine in her heart and she felt a joy in this Heavenly Father's love that she had never known before. She started to feel the cobwebs of her nightmare fall away.
He ended by praying with Mariam and sent her back to bed with a new and profoundly powerful tool.
She knew who her real Daddy was, and he was bigger, stronger, braver and more loving than any earthly Dad could ever be.
All she had to do was crawl into His lap and listen to His heart.





























                       

                       

                       

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