For the first time in all these years of waiting for you, Child, I am anxious about tomorrow.

Mother’s Day.

The past couple of holidays I wasn’t really thinking about me and my sadness. I was thinking about how GREAT moms are and how they deserve to be celebrated. Inevitably, however, there would be a moment when my reality would come crashing down on me. Perhaps it was during the church service when the pastor talks about the blessings of motherhood. Maybe it was that comment by an innocent acquaintance who says I would be a wonderful mom and wonders when we’ll have kids. Or it might come in numbly scrolling through Facebook, seeing image after beautiful image of my friends and their children.

I don’t think any of those circumstances should be altered just to accommodate the raw emotions of a girl in my shoes. Mothers and motherhood are meant to be celebrated. It’s Scriptural. Babies are beautiful. We’ve been married for just about 6 years and it’s totally normal to wonder if and when we’re going to have kids. And I’m really glad you think I’ll be a good mom.

But this year is different. Because I sit hear wondering if you, My Child, are taking up residence in my womb right this very moment. I am anxious to know if the procedure and the timing and the pills and the injection worked together to bring life where there has only been barrenness. And I don’t know if I can face all of the knowing glances, receive all of the heartfelt hugs, respond to all of the prayerful inquiries.

You are wanted, Child. Deeply desired. Prayed over by your daddy and me, by your grandparents and aunts and uncles, by a church family, and by far away friends who love us well.

Jesus, hold me. 

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live.

Creator God,
send your Holy Spirit to renew this living world,
that the whole creation,
in its groaning and striving,
may know your loving purpose
and come to reflect your glory;
in Jesus Christ our Lord.

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