Sunday, January 9, 2011

What I know





Been talking to God about letting go. About not conceiving. And as I let go I realise some things.

I will never be that woman that has to let a child go. Through termination or adoption. I will never know what it's like to have to release. To turn and have to walk away. I will never know the pain of waking up in the morning and wondering about my baby. What they are doing that day. The pain of wondering what my child would be like, if I had made a different choice sitting in the doctors office.

I will also never know ordinary in motherhood. The sheer beauty of ordinary. Of making a choice to fall pregnant and then waiting with expectation. And for that expectation to easily and quietly be fulfilled. In my home, in my bed. I will never know the spontaneous joy of a positive pregnancy test and the anticipation of telling my husband.

As I thought about what I didn't know, good and bad, God turned me around to look at what I do know.

I know what it is to long for something with every fibre of my being. To long to be a mother and be able to sift that longing to see the bottom of it. I know that I longed to be a mother, pure and simple. To nurture and embrace. To enfold with love. And I know that I don't care how I am a mother, to be called Mama is enough.



I know what it is to see a tiny baby for the first time and fall in love. Unconditionally and utterly. I know what it is to be so scared that someone I love so much may not be a part of my life. And then to receive a phonecall that alters my very being. A phone call that says yes, he is coming home. I know what sheer joy feels like, the sweet taste of breakthrough.



I know what it's like to walk into a clinic with someone who is sacrificing for me. Who is embracing pain and suffering with no reward at the end, other than the hope of my pregnancy. I know the joy of pregnancy and birth even though I am barren. The joy of looking into a tiny face and knowing no-one can take her from me.

I know what is is to be loved for myself. I am loved by my husband for me. I cannot give him a child of myself, and yet I am loved. I know what is to be held, in times of incredible sorrow, and be told that I would be chosen again. No matter what, I would be chosen again.



I will never know natural conception. But what I know is worth that lack. Worth it a thousand times over.

“Sing, O childless woman,


you who have never given birth!


Break into loud and joyful song, O Jerusalem,


you who have never been in labor.


For the desolate woman now has more children


than the woman who lives with her husband,”


says the Lord.


“Enlarge your house; build an addition.


Spread out your home, and spare no expense!


For you will soon be bursting at the seams.


Your descendants will occupy other nations


and resettle the ruined cities."


Isaiah 54: 1-3














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4 comments:

Helen said...

Beautiful post, Sammy. It brought tears to my eyes. Thinking of you.

PaisleyJade said...

So beautiful. xoxo

Cat said...

beautiful
simply
beautiful

excuse me as I grab a tissue and silently cry

love and light

Andrea said...

I loved reading this post. Thank you for sharing your heart...

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