I follow a lot of mom blogs. I mean, a lot. I don't have any kids, I have never been pregnant, I've never given birth. Why do I follow them?
Because I yearn to be a mother. I long so deeply and desperately to have my own child, to love someone that deeply and relentlessly. To be forced to be that selfless. To be able to have a husband and see him and myself in a beautiful little soul.
But God keeps saying, "Not yet." Not yet, not yet, not yet.
Now, I get told a lot, "You're so young. You have so much time!" I'm not saying that at age 26 I'm running out of time. What I am saying is that when you know what you want to do for the rest of your life - and it's what you want with every ounce of your heart and soul - you want to start doing it as soon as possible. But motherhood is not like a career. You can't just decide to get the degree you need or apply for the job you want, or put your resume together and start putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes you just have to wait. And wait. And wait.
First things first: I need to be married. Which, of course, is another aching, yearning, longing desire of my heart. To share the rest of my life with my best friend. To love someone else so deeply that his life and his holiness and his happiness are more important than my own. To come home to my favorite person every single night after work and fall asleep next to him. My heart aches for this.
I am blessed to be in a relationship with a man who I know God is calling me to marry. Michael and I have been together for over two years now, and we are both waiting for God to open the door for us to get engaged. We live in two different cities, and are just waiting for God to allow him to move here. And although I know we both want to get engaged and want to be married, I am dating a man who has such a strong trust in the Lord and is truly waiting for God to let him know when the right time is. So I am trusting God and trusting Michael and simply waiting in joyful hope.
There are just so many days where my body literally aches to be married to him. To come home to him at the end of a long day at work. Instead, for the most part, I come home to an empty house. I microwave myself a quick dinner, because let's face it, cooking for one isn't too much fun. Then I turn on the TV and maybe read some blogs, do some lesson planning for work and go to sleep. There are, of course, evenings when I plan girls' nights with my friends, or when I'm home with my family. But for the most part, my evenings are spent with my TV, which is fine for now, I just want my best friend.
And I want babies. I want kids. I want little ones to love until my heart could just burst. I read blogs about marriage and motherhood, wanting just a glimpse of what life is like for women who are in that part of life. And so many of these blogs are beautiful and joyful. But so many are about the challenges, the exhaustion, the weariness, the pain. And I hear it. I obviously can't say "I understand," but I sympathize.
I guess what I want to say is that I want moms and wives to remember what it felt like before. One day, during those times when I have kids and I want to pull out my hair and give up and just scream, I want to be able to look back and read this - to remember how much I ached and longed for it. Remember the days you begged God to hurry up, because the waiting was becoming unbearable. Remember the days you went home alone, night after night, aching to be next to someone. To have a true teammate that you could wake up next to and face the world with. Remember the days when all you longed for was someone else to take care of other than yourself. Remember the days when you prayed and prayed for your future children, hurting because you are still waiting to meet them and hoping they will come soon.
When I was 21 years old, my doctor called me and told me I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I had no idea what this meant, until I looked it up on the internet, and the only thing I saw in this ocean of information on my newly diagnosed hormonal disorder was: "PCOS is the leading cause of infertility in our country." I sat with my roommate on our couch and cried for hours. In one moment, my dream of being a mother felt like it was taken right out from under me. But through prayer, I finally came to peace with the idea that even if I couldn't have my own children, I could adopt. And I will adopt. My heart is so big and aches for children so deeply, that I knew in that moment that I was going to adopt one day, regardless of if I could have my own children or not. My heart wants to take in every child that needs a home. Perhaps if I discover I am infertile one day, I will discover that God gave me this heart for a reason.
But I know now that every single pregnancy I ever get to experience, God willing, will be a celebration. Even the throwing up, the sleepless nights, the aches and pains, the swollen ankles, will be a joy. Maybe it seems like it's easy for me to say because I've never experienced it. But I'm telling you - I. can't. wait. I can't wait for the crying babies, the exhaustion, the weariness, the snotty faces, the spit-up, the sore breasts, the crazy hair days, the kissing boo-boos, the pull-your-hair-out days, the temper tantrums. I can't wait for the smiles, the snuggles, the rocking to sleep, the never feeling closer to someone than when you're breastfeeding your baby for the first time, the loving someone more than you could ever imagine, the joy of hearing your baby's first word, the seeing the combination of yourself and your husband in one little person.
Just remember. Remember this. Remember now. Remember the longing. Remember before.