I should know better than to start a blog post this late at night, but I haven’t posted in a while.  That’s not for lack of ideas, but for attempts to avoid those ideas, so I suppose I may as well post and perhaps clear my head.  Today was a bit of an unusual Sunday in our house.  Normally it’s up and off to church, but today I just had a hesitation I couldn’t explain.  We were actually in the car (and late, because I’d been subconsciously dragging my feet) when I finally voiced it to J.  Turns out we had similar feelings, so since we had our Bible with us anyway, we turned the opposite direction and went to one of our favorite spots by the lake.  In a sanctuary of trees and water, we read the Bible together, shared some things that had long needed to be shared, and prayed.  It was refreshing, because while we often talk about spiritual things, it’s about what we’ve been learning separately.  I’ve remembered how important it is to sometimes do the learning together.

One of the topics we spent some time on this morning (and frequently revisit) is one I’ll share here, because if I’m going to be real in this blog, this is a big part of my reality.  J and I don’t have children.  I’m usually pretty chatty, as every one of my childhood report cards attests, but even with my dearest friends I have rarely ever discussed our feelings about having a baby.  That’s because we want one, very much, and so far have not been able to have one.  It’s not just a serious topic, it’s often a painful one, and I have found I’ll often talk a lot about anything else to avoid talking about that.  I’m aware that’s not entirely healthy, so lately I’ve been making efforts to be a little more open about this side of my life.

I’m not going to get into comparing the merits of reproductive assistance vs. adoption vs. all the many other ways one can parent.  Love can take many wonderful expressions, but while there is still any hope we could conceive biologically, that is our prayer.  We’ve known since we got married that we wanted children, but we also made the decision to wait a few years before having any, for a multitude of complex reasons.  And now, it’s too late?  I don’t know.  That’s my answer to a lot of things lately, even some for which I previously thought I knew what to say.

It’s a topic I can’t get away from; even the Bible study I just completed was heavy on the theme of God’s promises being fulfilled through descendants.  And as I’ve mentioned here before, until this particular time in my life, I didn’t realize how much I sometimes struggle with believing God will promise blessings of that magnitude specifically to me.  That’s saying something; I’ve been a Christian for 30 years now, grew up with a very healthy attitude towards the love of God for us as a heavenly father, and only now am I seeing clearly how my own “what if I wasn’t good enough” clouds my vision.  I can see and even help extend Grace to others easily, but I am a miser when it comes to reaching for it myself.  So we spent a good bit of time at our lakeshore altar praying for my freedom from that very thing this morning.  I don’t have much more than that figured out.  This blog is my journey, not my final memoir, so as I learn more, I’ll share it.  I thought perhaps one of you might be in a learning place too, so maybe you’ll understand.

There are a few things I am much more certain of though.  J is a blessing to me beyond measure.  It’s a humbling experience and a gift to have your husband pray over you, and I sincerely believe even if no child ever comes from our marriage, we are stronger for the journey.  I’m more sensitive to the circumstances of others, too.  I understand that it’s not really helpful to ask newlyweds or marrieds of any duration when they’re going to have children.  Or couples when they’re getting married, or when anyone will make any life decision, for that matter.  (And churches?  I love you, but please don’t try to extend your Mother’s Day gift-giving to “all the women out there”.  I’d rather celebrate my own mother and my mommy friends from my pew than stand awkwardly up front, more pointedly aware than ever that I’m not one.)  And I’ve learned that sometimes, it’s better to share.  Nothing good comes from bottling up permanently, and sometimes, your pride or stubbornness is robbing one of your sisters in Christ from being a blessing to you herself.