Baby Fever
We call my sister the baby whisperer. From the time that she was big and strong enough to carry around a baby, she's been unstoppable. She loves them. They love her. Got a fussy baby? Hand it to my sister, and she'll have him calmed down in less than five minutes. She knows how to handle teething, bathing, diaper changing, and I can't ever remember her learning how to do it. She has a gift; she intuitively knows what an infant needs.
Children under the age of five are inexplicably drawn to my sister. She's in college and works at a big chain store part time. She's told me stories about toddlers making their way to her no matter where she is in the store. They talk to her, show her things, and tell her stories.
As I'm sure you can imagine, she's a wonderful aunt to all our nieces and nephews. She's the first person each one joyfully seeks out upon arrival at family gatherings. She isn't a mother yet, but there's no doubt she'll be quite literally the best mom - ever.
I, on the other hand, got no such gift. I make babies cry. I've done my best to keep up with my sis, and I do feel confident when caring for infants and small children. I just can't compete.
The bond between sisters is a complex and interesting thing. In my experience, there's nothing like it. As we were growing up, I learned a lot of things being a big sister, like how to share and the importance of setting a good example.
It is also very easy to compare myself with my sister. We are absolute opposites, so when we were younger, the good qualities I lacked my sister seemed to possess in abundance. There I'd be holding someone's brand new infant after church. Of course, it would start crying, so the baby whisperer would have to swoop in and fix it.
Initially I felt bad. Then my mom gave me good counsel. She's got a sister of her own, so she's always understood the tricky bond my sister and I share. "You have different talents. Don't worry about it because someday you'll have children of your own. It will be different then," she said.
She was right. It didn't take long for me to realize that my sister and I complement each other. We both have irreplaceable things to offer our family, and they are, thankfully, different things. Any time after that when I unintentionally made a baby bawl, I always told myself, "It's okay. It will be different when you have your own children one day."
I've never really been the ambitious sort. If you asked me ten years ago what I really wanted out of life, I would have told you that I just wanted to get married and have children. I've always seen my future as a good sister, daughter, wife, aunt, friend, neighbor, and one day - mom.
I'm telling you all this so that you'll understand what happened to me last year.
I had to face the reality that, without some sort of divine intervention, I won't have children. I've had concerns for the longest time, since a few years after I got married, but I'd been telling myself that the situation would change, that something would give, and that my husband and I would eventually have a family.
Finally last year, I had to accept it. It wasn't pretty. If you weren't around me last year, be glad. I was no fun. Poor innocent bystanders like my co-workers and my principal were victims. I morphed into the saggy, weepy woman everyone dreads. I feel so bad thinking about it now. I knew how it was then, but I was powerless to change it.
The first thing I hated about it was the effect it had on other people's joy. Friends who were expecting their own babies felt awkward. Honestly, I didn't feel any kind of anger toward them. I was and am so happy about the birth of all my friends' babies and my nieces and nephews. I never wished they weren't having children; I simply want my own baby. That being said, I understand the way others feel because that's how I would feel if the roles were reversed. The whole thing can't be helped.
The second thing I hated about it was knowing how dreadful I was to be around. I wince when I think about it. There are still people avoiding me, and I have this compulsion to apologize about the last twelve months or so to everyone I know.
The thing I hated the most about it was being powerless to change anything. I was schlepping around being the hugest, moistest wet blanket in the history of the world, and I couldn't stop myself. I felt like all my joy had been sucked out of me by a huge vacuum cleaner. Every attempt I made to "cheer myself up" ended in horrendous failure. I walked around chanting, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay," in my head hoping that would help. It didn't.
I've always been a naturally joyful person, even in hard times. A well of optimism has always been inside me, through no merit or effort of mine. Consequently, I had no idea how to get it back.
I won't recount all the things I tried to fix things for myself. Suffice it to say that I tried every single thing that came to mind, and none of them worked.
I entered the summer break absolutely broken hearted.
I met one of my dear, sweet friends for tea one afternoon. We had a chat, and she, darling woman, listened to all the bitter and ugly things I needed to say. She put her hand on my arm and said, "You keep saying 'It's okay,' but it's not okay." She suggested that I was trying all the wrong things, that maybe I needed to go home and let it be 'not okay.'
I did. I went home and prayed every single day, long prayers that lasted for hours sometimes. I told God that it wasn't okay. I also told Him that I was out of options, that He had to give me back some joy. I told Him that I needed Him to heal my broken heart and give me what it would take to keep moving forward.
Guess what? He has. He's done everything I asked and more. I can't tell you exactly how it's happened. The best I can say is that it is one of those mysterious things accomplished through faith and the work of the Holy Spirit.
Is my heart still broken about being childless? Yep. I don't ever see that changing. I will always long for children of my own. However, He's given me my joy back, and I've gotten the chance to see things I overlooked before.
I have amazing family and friends. There are so many people who've stuck by me, even when I wasn't fun to be around. That's true love, and now I know I have it in abundance.
I now feel ready to embrace whatever plan it is that God has for me; before I was pretty much sitting around waiting to be a mom. I can't do that anymore.
I also have my students. You might say that they move on and don't really ever think about me after that last report card, and for 99% of them that's true. I have to tell you, though, that the other 1% more than make up for it. I have a strong mentoring relationship with a handful of former students, and that allows me to fuss over college applications, comfort them when a boy breaks their hearts, and hear about the exciting new things they're learning in college. It isn't the same as being a parent, but sometimes I'm glad. The role I have is a little bit different. Sometimes I can argue for their parents' point of view or give them advice they'll actually take. I still get to be part of the safety net they need when they venture out to make lives of their own.
When I decided to write this today, I wasn't sure it was a good idea. I was afraid it would be like probing around in an old wound that's finally started to heal. I figured it would hurt, and it has a little bit. Surprisingly it hasn't been that bad, especially when I think about my purpose in sharing and making myself so vulnerable.
I want for you to know and understand that things aren't easy for me sometimes, but that God provides for me. I think that people usually think about God providing for our physical needs, and He does that, too, but the last year has taught me that He also supplies other more important things. He's given me my joy back, shown me truth, and helped me get closer to Him. I want you to know that He can do the same for you.
Image Credit: http://www.savebabies.org/blog/
Children under the age of five are inexplicably drawn to my sister. She's in college and works at a big chain store part time. She's told me stories about toddlers making their way to her no matter where she is in the store. They talk to her, show her things, and tell her stories.
As I'm sure you can imagine, she's a wonderful aunt to all our nieces and nephews. She's the first person each one joyfully seeks out upon arrival at family gatherings. She isn't a mother yet, but there's no doubt she'll be quite literally the best mom - ever.
I, on the other hand, got no such gift. I make babies cry. I've done my best to keep up with my sis, and I do feel confident when caring for infants and small children. I just can't compete.
The bond between sisters is a complex and interesting thing. In my experience, there's nothing like it. As we were growing up, I learned a lot of things being a big sister, like how to share and the importance of setting a good example.
It is also very easy to compare myself with my sister. We are absolute opposites, so when we were younger, the good qualities I lacked my sister seemed to possess in abundance. There I'd be holding someone's brand new infant after church. Of course, it would start crying, so the baby whisperer would have to swoop in and fix it.
Initially I felt bad. Then my mom gave me good counsel. She's got a sister of her own, so she's always understood the tricky bond my sister and I share. "You have different talents. Don't worry about it because someday you'll have children of your own. It will be different then," she said.
She was right. It didn't take long for me to realize that my sister and I complement each other. We both have irreplaceable things to offer our family, and they are, thankfully, different things. Any time after that when I unintentionally made a baby bawl, I always told myself, "It's okay. It will be different when you have your own children one day."
I've never really been the ambitious sort. If you asked me ten years ago what I really wanted out of life, I would have told you that I just wanted to get married and have children. I've always seen my future as a good sister, daughter, wife, aunt, friend, neighbor, and one day - mom.
I'm telling you all this so that you'll understand what happened to me last year.
I had to face the reality that, without some sort of divine intervention, I won't have children. I've had concerns for the longest time, since a few years after I got married, but I'd been telling myself that the situation would change, that something would give, and that my husband and I would eventually have a family.
Finally last year, I had to accept it. It wasn't pretty. If you weren't around me last year, be glad. I was no fun. Poor innocent bystanders like my co-workers and my principal were victims. I morphed into the saggy, weepy woman everyone dreads. I feel so bad thinking about it now. I knew how it was then, but I was powerless to change it.
The first thing I hated about it was the effect it had on other people's joy. Friends who were expecting their own babies felt awkward. Honestly, I didn't feel any kind of anger toward them. I was and am so happy about the birth of all my friends' babies and my nieces and nephews. I never wished they weren't having children; I simply want my own baby. That being said, I understand the way others feel because that's how I would feel if the roles were reversed. The whole thing can't be helped.
The second thing I hated about it was knowing how dreadful I was to be around. I wince when I think about it. There are still people avoiding me, and I have this compulsion to apologize about the last twelve months or so to everyone I know.
The thing I hated the most about it was being powerless to change anything. I was schlepping around being the hugest, moistest wet blanket in the history of the world, and I couldn't stop myself. I felt like all my joy had been sucked out of me by a huge vacuum cleaner. Every attempt I made to "cheer myself up" ended in horrendous failure. I walked around chanting, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay," in my head hoping that would help. It didn't.
I've always been a naturally joyful person, even in hard times. A well of optimism has always been inside me, through no merit or effort of mine. Consequently, I had no idea how to get it back.
I won't recount all the things I tried to fix things for myself. Suffice it to say that I tried every single thing that came to mind, and none of them worked.
I entered the summer break absolutely broken hearted.
I met one of my dear, sweet friends for tea one afternoon. We had a chat, and she, darling woman, listened to all the bitter and ugly things I needed to say. She put her hand on my arm and said, "You keep saying 'It's okay,' but it's not okay." She suggested that I was trying all the wrong things, that maybe I needed to go home and let it be 'not okay.'
I did. I went home and prayed every single day, long prayers that lasted for hours sometimes. I told God that it wasn't okay. I also told Him that I was out of options, that He had to give me back some joy. I told Him that I needed Him to heal my broken heart and give me what it would take to keep moving forward.
Guess what? He has. He's done everything I asked and more. I can't tell you exactly how it's happened. The best I can say is that it is one of those mysterious things accomplished through faith and the work of the Holy Spirit.
Is my heart still broken about being childless? Yep. I don't ever see that changing. I will always long for children of my own. However, He's given me my joy back, and I've gotten the chance to see things I overlooked before.
I have amazing family and friends. There are so many people who've stuck by me, even when I wasn't fun to be around. That's true love, and now I know I have it in abundance.
I now feel ready to embrace whatever plan it is that God has for me; before I was pretty much sitting around waiting to be a mom. I can't do that anymore.
I also have my students. You might say that they move on and don't really ever think about me after that last report card, and for 99% of them that's true. I have to tell you, though, that the other 1% more than make up for it. I have a strong mentoring relationship with a handful of former students, and that allows me to fuss over college applications, comfort them when a boy breaks their hearts, and hear about the exciting new things they're learning in college. It isn't the same as being a parent, but sometimes I'm glad. The role I have is a little bit different. Sometimes I can argue for their parents' point of view or give them advice they'll actually take. I still get to be part of the safety net they need when they venture out to make lives of their own.
When I decided to write this today, I wasn't sure it was a good idea. I was afraid it would be like probing around in an old wound that's finally started to heal. I figured it would hurt, and it has a little bit. Surprisingly it hasn't been that bad, especially when I think about my purpose in sharing and making myself so vulnerable.
I want for you to know and understand that things aren't easy for me sometimes, but that God provides for me. I think that people usually think about God providing for our physical needs, and He does that, too, but the last year has taught me that He also supplies other more important things. He's given me my joy back, shown me truth, and helped me get closer to Him. I want you to know that He can do the same for you.
The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit. (Psalm 34:17-18 NKJV)
Image Credit: http://www.savebabies.org/blog/
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