Baby, Please.

Everyone knows the cliché. You find a guy, get married, have kids… anything outside of that pushes the social norm and you get pressured by everyone to change that. And when you’ve been married over two years with no kids and no hint of that on the horizon, heaven forbid you’re not ready. Or don’t want kids. Or…your body doesn’t let you. 

I’ve reached that phase of life when nearly all of my high school friends have had, or are finally having, babies. With all of the excitement and beauty of that, somehow looks get pointed at me and I get the questions:

“How come YOU haven’t had kids yet?” 

“When am I getting grandkids?” 

“What are you waiting for?” 

“[So and so] is pregnant! Look how adorable! Doesn’t that make you want to change your mind?”

“What’s your plan?”

“Are you even trying?”

Or, my favorite, the subtle hint of my “selfishness” of not wanting to give up my body. 

As a result, on occasion my snarky response has become the brutal “I’ll have kids when my body decides it wants to stop miscarrying every time I try.” 

Mean, I know. I do apologize.. I'm working on my temper. But a broken heart can only handle so much pressuring.


** Let me put in a disclaimer before I continue. This post was not made to be offensive in any way. I don’t blame anyone for asking out of genuine curiosity. I welcome questions and try to remain an open book. The majority of the time, though, these aren’t asked from a loving perspective, or from someone simply wanting to know more of my story. They’re asked as if I’m doing something wrong. Whether intentional or not, they hurt when you’re trying your best. ***

Here’s the truth. I don’t know why, but I can’t. We’ve done everything in our power and now it’s time to go to more doctors to figure out why I can’t seem to carry for any significant period of time. I use money as an excuse of why I haven’t yet, but the reality is I'm scared.

No one wants to admit that they’re broken. 

But at some point we have to. 

Recently, I gave up. I stared at the wall while Travis laid in bed with his arms around me and said “I’m done.” 

I couldn’t do it anymore. 

Couldn’t handle the pressure to hurry up and “do my job.” 

Couldn’t handle the fear of disappointing my husband who’s biggest dream is to have a family.

Couldn’t handle the pain of knowing month after month I’ve failed. 

The growing desperation for something I never knew I wanted.

The longing in my heart every time I see a mother with her newborn child.

The tears when I write and play a song describing how I feel. 

The look on my husband’s face when he lets his brave guard down for a moment to reveal that it’s hard on him too. 

I need a break from the disappointment. A break from the planning, the “taking all the right steps,” the testing, the wondering.  I need a break from -even worse- the growing excitement of knowing the miracle has come, just for it to leave again.  

We’ll try to fulfill expectations eventually, but for now I just can’t.

No one wants to admit that they’re jealous of every pregnancy announcement.
No one likes the pang of loss every time they think of how old their little one would be.

No one wants to be “that person” that gets truly angry when a friend with the great life that they always wanted, complains constantly about their pregnancy and how miserable their life is. I empathize, but inwardly my heart breaks. 

Everyone has their battles, and I have plenty to share. This is just one of many and it’s the one I’m staring in the face today.

I just love it when people tell me “you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t REALLY want this.” 
“18 years to life, man.” 
“It’s harder than you’d realize.”

I may not have experience as a mother, but the strain of raising kids isn’t lost on me. I know what I’m asking for. I’ve weighed the risks and determined that it’s all worth it. Please don’t think I'm naive just because I'm young. Respectfully, you don’t know my story. 

I sat down to write this, hoping for some beautiful piece of writing, that will make me feel better and not make me sound like an awful or bitter human being, but I suppose what I’ve got will have to do. I've debated releasing this; hesitated because of the level of vulnerability that's required. In reality, I've discovered that many women have dealt with loss at some point. Some have faced this battle longer and more intensely than I have. If anything, that knowledge has given me the strength to write and give words to the anguishing, angering, bewilderment that millions experience and don't have the will to voice. Let me say it clearly to whoever is reading this and needs to remember: You're not alone.

Pain isn’t always something that can be suppressed. Sometimes it needs to be expressed, revealing to the world just how truly broken you are. 

So here I am. 

Broken. 

A woman with a broken body that doesn’t want to do the one thing it was designed to. 

But God is still good.

He still has a plan. 

I have to trust that, if for no other reason than it’s all I have to hold to. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m never going to stop being excited for my friends experiencing the joys of parenthood in all its forms. It makes my day to see some of the pictures and videos I see on social media of newborns and their giggles. Gosh, if I ever get enough I’ll let you know! Just kidding, it’s impossible. 

Two of my closest friends were dealing with the same issues, but have recently found themselves pregnant. When they called to tell me, I went nuts dancing around my living room with an uncontrollable smile, thanking God with them. Even while typing this, the thought makes me smile and I CAN'T WAIT until they announce to the world. 

When telling Travis about it, I gushed that two out of the three of us getting our wish is a miracle and I’m ecstatic God gave them theirs. I’m going to be the best “Aunt” ever and will spoil those babies every chance I get. They’re gonna be snuggled as much as humanly possible! 

My pain does not IN ANY WAY make me any less happy for anyone who announces that their miracle is here. 

I’m accepting that it may never be “my turn.” I know, I've got my whole life ahead of me; that's true. My time may come, but I'm not going to keep getting my hopes up. It's not worth it. There are other things in life worth pursuing. And, when the time comes, there are many children already on this earth waiting for a home. Someday it will be my joy to give them one; to be on the front lines, watching them grow and be transformed into who God fashioned them to be. 

With all that said, PLEASE don't think I'm asking for sympathy to replace the judgement. I'm not. That's the LAST thing I want... what I do want is a little understanding and if nothing else, to bring awareness. I know I'm not alone in this struggle. 

I’m not letting my brokenness destroy anything. That’s not what we're supposed to do. 

Instead, I’ll let it mold me into something greater.

In the meantime, PLEASE. PLEASE stop asking with preconceived judgements. Please stop making me feel like less of a woman. Please pray for me (and those struggling silently) instead. Mothers, please take time to treasure what you have… For me. 

Don't be shy - If this message has impacted you in any way, let me know! 

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