Why not?!

Why not?!  That was the question the 20-something year old cashier at Taco Bell asked me on Saturday.  I took Kayla, Mikey, Olivia and Sam's niece Jacqueline to Anderson & Girls and then to Taco Bell for lunch.  As we were standing in line to order all 4 hooligans were swinging on the bar that defines the ordering area.  I turned to them, after having already asked a couple of them individually to stay off the bar, and said, "Ladies & Gentleman, I'd like you not swing on that bar.  Stay off there.  Got it?"  They said, "Ok." and got off.   The lady behind the counter said, "Are all of them yours?"  I said, "No, they're nieces and a nephew."  She said, "Do you have any children of your own?" to which I responded, "No."  With a shocked look on her face she said, "Why not?!"  I was a little taken aback.  I didn't want to get into the details so I just said that I'd like to but they haven't come along yet.  She said, "Well, you ought to because you'd be a great mom."   What I wanted to say was, "If you only knew..."  Ugh.  Gut wrenching.

I called Department of Human Services this afternoon to ask for info on foster parenting.  Brett and I have been tossing the idea around for a couple of months.  He's concerned that if we do this we'll be acting like Abraham and Sarah who took matters into their own hands instead of waiting for God's timing.  If I'm being truly honest, I just want children in the house.  I want babies to care for.  Like I said in an email to Hez today, "I want peas on the floor, diapers to change, extra laundry" and all the rest. I want the noises of children, even if they're not my own.  But I know God has a plan and I really don't want to screw it up.  I don't want to be faithless.  I don't know how to hear from God on this because I'm pretty sure DHS is looking for people like Brett and I.  It's not like they're going to turn us down, so that's not a good test of whether or not we're supposed to do it.  How do you figure something like that out?  I guess I'll just get all the info I can, share it with Brett, and we're both praying about it.

Maybe it's the fact that DHS has to do a home inspection and take references that's making me be paranoid about keeping the kitchen clean, but I have kept it clean (or mostly clean) for almost 2 weeks now.  I want to be a good mom.  I don't want to be lazy.  I know that's my tendency, but I don't want to be like that anymore.  I think this is an important thing to learn BEFORE little ones come along.  Dad says something like, "discipline begets discipline and lack of discipline begets laziness."  Well, I've begotten a lot of laziness in the last couple of years and I really want God to take that away from me.

Two Years & Counting

     The earliest memory I have of wanting to be a mom is 5 years old.  Mom sat nursing baby Rae Rae & I rocked along with her in my miniature rocking chair and baby doll.  I remember how the air got pushed out of my lungs as I hung over the side of Rae's crib trying to reach her and pull her out.  I wish I couldn't recall the stink of baby poop as I washed out the cloth diaper in the toilet.  Even as I gagged at the task I knew I wanted to be a mommy.

     In my mind I can still see my mom in her long, knit, red sweater rocking a baby.  I remember how I wanted to be just like her.  She got married after a year of college and I came along 2 years later.  I had my heart set of following in her footsteps, until Dad informed me that I would be going to and finishing college.  So, I revised the plan.  I would go to college, meet someone special around my sophomore or junior year, get married after graduation, work for 2 years and then stay home when our first child was born.  In fall 1999 I realized that I was a junior and still had no fish on the hook.  Then along came someone.

     He wasn't a bad guy most of the time, but he was bad for me.  I pinned all my hopes on him.  I chased him and let him chase me.  I pushed him away and let him return the favor... for 8 years.  As every one of them went by I agonized over how much I hated him and alternately couldn't get away from him.  I prayed to be free of him and find "the one," but that freedom didn't come until winter 2007.

     After a year "off", I was set up on a blind date with Brett Anderson in February 2008.  I wasn't sure he was "the one" right away because I was looking for a big-hearted giant with a hero complex.  I wanted someone who could make me feel feminine, diminutive, and protected (which was quite a stretch for a plump 5' 10" female used to fending for herself).  But Brett fit so many more substantial requirements and, more importantly, I had peace about dating him.  I had peace about marrying him.  No reservations, no knots in my stomach, no sleepless nights.  Peace.

     So, here I am almost 3 years later.  The life-long aspiration of motherhood aches in my heart, but 2 years of infertility burns in my soul.  As a person of faith I know I have to rest in God's timing, but I find that more and more difficult as the months go by.  I find it more and more difficult as I buy presents for other people's babies, as friends and family offer words of encouragement, as I approach the next birthday.  34 is OLD.  And yet it looms in the weeks to come.  34.  Thirty four.  The big 3 - 4.

     All hope is not lost, even though I get lost in disappointment and fear sometimes.  We will start a new form on fertility meds this month (hopefully) and see what will happen from there.  In the mean time, I'm here waiting for Wonderful.