Some days I ache to be a mother. After trying for so many months, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep from slipping down a path of sadness and defeat. It isn’t easy. And I won’t begin to pretend like it is.
Some days I wish I could go back to December (see previous post I Was Pregnant) and do things differently. Eat better, exercise more, drive safer, pray harder… But I have to know that part of my story (as written by God) was to not be a mother yet. Its not my time. Again, this isn’t easy. And I won’t pretend like it is.
Some days I sit around and watch Netflix until my brain turns to mush. I get on pinterest and look up new things to do. I bake a tray of brownies- not for eating, just to make the apartment smell nice and to get the oven on and warming the place up. This isn’t productive. And I know that.
Some days I pull out my laptop and start typing. For no apparent reason with no clear direction. I just start. Its a similar exercise as writing in a diary for me. It makes the dreariness of a cold wet day seem less dreary. Makes the loneliness of being home alone fade. This isn’t the same as real social interaction. And I know that.
Some days I begin to think introspectively. I pick at myself or build myself up. No rhyme or reason why I go one way or the other. Just being a girl I guess. Some days happy, some days sad. Some days pretty, some days not my best.
Although these are some of the feelings I experience on my “some days”, they are not my every day. Negativity, sadness, and unproductive behaviors are a choice. And although some days I slip up and choose them… the everyday is what’s most important.
The everyday choice, despite sadness or laziness, to be the person God has created me to be is important.
The decision to see joy in these days because, despite sadness or laziness, they are a gift from Him is important.
The choice to live with joy is what is most important.
So, on this some day, I choose embrace my Netflix binge, bake the brownies without eating them, cry a little, smile a little, enjoy the company of my puppy, and accept the ache and pain as a not-yet mother. I choose to rejoice in my sufferings, knowing that “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5)