OK, so today I’m going to just say it. I’m going to say the one thing that I believe many of us conscious conceivers feel at times, yet never, ever speak out loud.
Sometimes I wouldn’t trade my life for theirs for all the positive HPTs in the world.
There I said it.
There may be a mad rush to the unsubscribe button for this unspeakable truth, yet I won’t take it back.
You see yesterday a friend of mine who I have known for nearly a decade called to tell me that she is pregnant with her third child. I of course had my momentary shock, punch in the gut, reaction.
Yet when that passed, what I found when I was really honest with myself, was relief that her life was not mine.
Now don’t get me wrong, I will admit to a jealous twinge that conceiving for her is like a professional athlete playing t-ball, while for me it is like a five-year old competing in the Olympics.
Yet when I am honest with myself, I really didn’t envy the screaming and fighting that was going on the background between her other two children (both under the age of four).
What I realized in that moment is that my life is designed for me. My dreams were always a bit too big to fit behind a white picket fence.
When I look myself square on in the mirror, straight into my own eyes, I just don’t see a minvan in there.
What I see is a woman who wants one perfect, beautiful, soft and cuddly baby.
My story is more complex than those silly fairy tales. I want a picture that does not fit into the picture books lining the Barnes and Noble bookshelves.
So perhaps it is time for me to admit that I don’t want to caravan through life trying to forget the untapped potential I left to atrophy in the wake of one child after another.
Maybe the grand designer of life knew this about me. Maybe just maybe, he/she is waiting for me to lay the foundation before my miracle arrives so that when they do, I have the sun, moon, and the stars all in the palm of my hand–and so much more to offer them.
Maybe, just maybe.
The in Between
This in between is a hard place to be.
It is as though I am the acorn fallen from the oak’s limbs,
ground cover in a squirrels winter nest.
My life is an incubation for what is to be,
after the in between has ceased.
Am I selfish to want the sun, the moon, and the stars when so many are content with only a rainbow?
Am I fooling myself with the pretense that my time will come–in time?
This in between is a hard place to be, yet honestly,
in the dark quiet place where no on sees or hears,
I whisper a confession that it is my place to be.
I am waiting for the world to unfold,
unsatisfied with only a rainbow when this life has shown me infinity.
Shh, don’t tell.
– S. S.