It's 5:25. Chad got up 10 minutes ago to go run. I'm awake. This time is always precious, I feel like I'm snuggling with God. It's when He dotes on me and I Him.
But this morning that familiar ache stirred. And I wondered "will it ever go away?" I have a friend with three that worries she will be 80 and ache...
I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted the thrill of sharing news. I wanted to see Chad get crazy excited about talking to my belly and watch him get safety insane. I wanted showers where my intimate people gathered around and blessed our journey with tender prayer.
Believe it or not, I wanted that hospital trip. That {unbeknownst to those who have had it} right of passage into womanhood. I wanted the story that inevitably makes its way into a girls night out.
I don't have stretch marks across my belly and things are in the place they were meant to be. But I wanted it.
It's a kind of long silent suffering. The ache is real.
And I come out of my early morning daze-Still unclear as to when it just might pop up again, longing for something I won't have, unsure of the WHY- because it's time to mother the ones He gave me.
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