Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Dibs on Being Me

For the third night in a row, I'm having trouble going to sleep. I think it has something to do with a certain campus minister husband leaving the country with a team of students to visit and help orphans in Haiti. But I could be wrong.

I had originally pulled up my blog tonight after seeing a commercial about women who have just had a baby 'suffering from unsightly stretch marks' and was going to comment on it in a snarky way...something along the lines of, "Suffering? Really? Because I -- and I'm sure thousands of women living with infertility -- would take that kind of suffering in a heartbeat."

See? Snarky. I apologize...sort of. Just hard to hear things like that and not have a reaction.

Anyway, I got on the blog and became engrossed in many of my old posts. Some about my former wound, some about wanting another baby, and many about how much I adore my husband and son. And in some of those posts, I sound so strong and sure of myself. I sound happy. I want to go back and ask that woman to hold on to what she has, because there are days when it seems I've lost that forever.

No, I know I haven't. It's just that I'm...different than I was back then. I didn't know I was headed into this world of longing for another child and not seeing that dream realized. The experience has placed a shadow over my heart, and I fight for the sunlight but it's a battle I lose on many occasions. I know I need to work on my relationship with God. I love him, I trust him, I won't leave him...but are we super-close all the time? I have to say no. And part of me hates admitting that, but I've come to learn that I am human and I am weak, and God knows all of this. He knows me better than I know myself. Scary but true.

This is one post that I have to leave unresolved. I'm not living in a sitcom world (but oh, how I wish I could for just a day!) where, after about 20 minutes of silliness and conflicts, the music swells and all the pieces come together. There are things I wish were different, but I would never trade my life for another. This one, with all of its love and yes, broken pieces, is mine...dibs.

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