I haven’t been blogging much. You can tell, if you just scroll down and notice the gaping times between posts. I haven’t been keeping up on my other blog, either. I wish I had a really good reason for this, like we’re moving, or I’m super busy being a terrific mother, or my husband is getting home in the evenings and I can spend time with both the men in my life.
Nope. It’s because I’m sad.
It boils down to that word “if.” It’s kind of ironic in my life that “if” not only means “if,” but it’s the symbol for infertility as well. I lay in bed at night (not sleeping, which means I nap during Little Man’s nap time, which is another reason for not blogging). Where was I? Oh yes, I lay in bed at night, and these thoughts dance through my head:
IF we were fertile, now is when we’d be making plans for Baby #2
Instead, we are filled with anxiety and not a little dread about starting the process again
IF we lived in a slightly bigger house, we’d be making plans for Baby #2
Instead, we have to move. Have to. We wouldn’t be approved in another home study.
IF we had more money and time when Keith wasn’t working, we’d have our house up for sale.
Instead, we scrape together what we can, when we can, and hope for minimal changes required to sell.
IF we were fertile, insurance would cover everything related to Baby #2
Instead, we have to save the money for the homestudy, lawyer, social work, etc. etc.
IF we win the lottery tomorrow (ha ha ha) the last three IFs wouldn’t be an issue
Instead, we know that by spending $1 on one ticket just gives us a chance to talk about our dreams
(disclaimer: we don’t really play the lottery. But it’s like $205million, so Keith bought one $1 ticket.)
I really don’t know where all of this is coming from. I’m certainly not physically ready for another baby; we just started sleeping through the night consistently about 2 months ago. We certainly don’t have the physical space for another little one. But every time that Little Man grows up some more, I wonder if this is my only chance to experience these things. Not that I approach his life and growth with sadness; on the contrary, I hold each and every thing he does close to my heart. I don’t even want to miss a bedtime or a morning or a meal with him! What IF this is the only time I get to be a mother?
My heart and soul tell me this isn’t it… that I will be a mother again. But right now, it seems so out of reach. And yes, I trust God in His infinite wisdom to take care of all of this. And yes, I realize I have to live my life on His timeline and not my own.
But I can’t help but wonder, what IF…