Instead, a Doctor, a laboratory and a test tube will try to assist God with our conception. I want to discover that my period is several days late. I want to buy a pregnancy test and pee on a stick. I want to see the + sign. I want to cry tears of joy for the news we'd discover. But I can't.
Instead, I cry tears of pain at random, for no reason and with no warning. I want to experience morning sickness. I want my hormones to go haywire. I want the 'pregnant glow.' I want to have my husband talk to my belly. But I can't.
Instead, I try not to look pregnant. I don't buy clearance clothes for next year, "just in case." I try to keep my emotions from going haywire. I dream that my husband talks to my belly. I want to take prenatal vitamins. I want to eat for two. I want to schedule my first doctor's visit. I want to sit in the waiting room with other pregnant women and know that I am one of them. But I can't.
Instead, I wonder if those pregnant women ever had problems conceiving. I think how cute they look as they waddle with their big bellies. I smile at babies that are not mine. I ache from loving someone I've never met. I want to hear the Doctor say, "You're pregnant. Your progress is right on schedule." But I can't.
Instead, I hear: "I am sorry," "Let's try one more cycle," "Technology is really improving." I want to surprise my parents with a new grandchild. I want to tell my family and friends our good news. I want my life to change overnight. I want to read What to Expect When You're Expecting. But I can't.
Instead, I have no news to tell. I realize my life hasn't changed in years. I read When Empty Arms Leave a Heavy Burden. I want to monitor the progress. I want to see the ultrasounds. I want to hear the heartbeat. I want to watch our baby grow. I want to feel the kicks. But I can't.
Instead, I take the injections. I give blood. I watch my eggs grow and pray they fertilize. My embryos are transferred, while my husband watches our conception from across the room. I wait. I pray. I wait for the one phone call that can make our life better. Or worse. I want to decorate the nursery. I want to childproof our home. I want to shop for adorable, soft, tiny outfits. I want to shop at Gymboree. I want to save money for the baby's future. But I can't.
Instead, I imagine a crib in the empty room down the hall. I avoid the baby stores in the mall. We spend our money on Doctor appointments, tests and high tech procedures. We spend our money on a dream. We are left with an empty bank account. We are left with empty arms. I want to share the experience with my pregnant friends. I want to compare symptoms. I want to be the guest of honor at a baby shower. But I can't.
Instead, I watch my friends get pregnant quickly. I watch their bellies grow, attend their showers, see their pictures and try to be a good friend. I watch their lives change and our friendships change in front of my eyes. I want my belly to drop. I want my water to break. I want contractions. I want an epidural. I want my husband by my side and my family in the waiting room. I want the pushing. I want the pain. I want to hear the cry. But I can't.
Instead, I feel a different pain. I hear my own cry. Yes, I even hear the cry of my husband, which hurts more than I had ever imagined. I want to hold our baby in my arms, with tears of joy streaming down our faces. I want to experience the miracle of birth, thinking, "We did it", but knowing that God did it. But I can't.
Instead, I hold my husband in my arms with tears of sorrow streaming down our faces and wonder what God's plan is for us and why we have to go through this. I want to pray that one extra special blessing be added to my life. And I do. I pray my 1000th unanswered prayer to God and hope that this time He answers. I pray for the miracle of life that only God can give. I pray that someday soon, He will give it to us. I want to be a mom. --- But I can't.
Instead, I am right where God wants me to be: thankful for our blessings, searching out His will, basking in His grace, trusting in His perfect plan, praying for a change in status from a mom wannabe . . . to the mom I want to be...
(written by~Alison Kathleen Whitney)