Best Supporting Role Goes to...

There I sat. On Sunday I go to church; well I try to make it. But this Sunday I made it. And I sat right in between two beautiful couples who were both expecting. How did this happen? No matter, there I was sitting between two beautiful women about to embark on the struggle and the blessing of motherhood. And between their likeness, there was me. Still childless me.

I suddenly became aware of my always messy hair, my shoes that did not match my outfit, and even while sitting I remembered how utterly short I am. With that awareness, I suddenly grew smaller, I was shrinking between them. Once again in my life, I feel the sting of being the odd one out. It seems to be a common thread in my life story. It is so much so, that that often times I have felt that I am the side character in stories of every other girl in my life. I am that friend who pops up, quirky and awkward, just to propel the heroines destiny towards happily ever after. I am a supporting role in life and supporting roles don't have their own stories. 

Since the beginning, I watched the other girls grow beautiful while I didn't. I watched the other girls go to prom while I did their hair. I watched them cry over heartbreak while I was the one comforting them. I watched the other girls graduate from college and get successful jobs, while I spent seven years aimlessly trying to find a major or career I loved when there was never one out there for me. 

Supporting roles don't need these details. They don't need success or titles. And now, I watch as those other girls become mothers while once again I don't. Instead, my body fails me continually. It is almost like the writer forgot to write me a future because it wasn't pertinent to the stories. I don't need a working reproductive system because there is no story past the families of those other main characters. 

My whole life I have felt this force that didn't allow me to be like the other girls. I simply wasn't allowed to participate in life the same way they did. I was always fated to just watch. Here I am at 29, still watching. 

I reached over the pew and grabbed my husband C's hand. I squeezed it. I was allowed to have love, the author hadn't forgotten that. And, I am surrounded by love. I feel it in me. My husband shows a type of love I could never imagine on my own. My family always reminds me they care. And God is ever present speaking peace into this heart that needs it. 

Then I realized, I don't need to feel small. I can be more than a supporting role, even the side characters can have their own stories. And yes, my story is different, it is broken, but I can be proud of it. I can own it. God is good to me, in his own way. A way unique to me. 

Confession time...

I have been doing pretty great the last few months. In fact, for a second there I almost believed that not having a child yet didn't bother me at all. But, then this weekend happened.
Suddenly, my Facebook news feed and my Instagram wall seemed to be completely taken over by adorable little chubby cheeks and wide curious eyes. My friends all posted sweet little words below the photographs like "My whole world" or "My heart is happy" and I felt my eyes tear up.
It isn't that I am not happy, I actually really am, but its is that despite my happiness, I have a longing for something that I cannot have yet. Something that is supposed to come easy, but turns out that isn't always the case.
Last night, I created a snapchat. (Yes, I am that behind on the cool ways to stay connected, deal with it.) Anyways, I created a snapchat profile. I owned it for a total of 20 minutes before I realized my world would become bombarded with cute little pigtails and chocolate covered faces. Every woman I know would be  unknowingly sharing how their bodies worked right and mine doesn't. How woman's great gift of creating life has been denied to me. I still have the same yearning to have a child as most women, but I have just been denied the gift of being able to actually do it. My body decided to draw a biological line right there crossing its arms and saying " This is where you stop being a woman, this is where I break you."
Don't get me wrong, I love that my friends are mothers. It is a balance of love and envy. I think love wins, but I do have to keep certain distances for my heart's sake because it is very selfish. Also, I love seeing pictures of my friend's adorable children. I love every one of their children. Truly, my heart is warm and fuzzy anytime I get to hold a baby or have a conversation with a toddler. However, there is this cold breeze that flows through my chest every few moments and I can only last so long before it becomes a snow storm of dissatisfaction. So, I deleted Snapchat. I decided to allow myself the warmth of seeing those little faces in person; without welcoming feelings of jealousy into my house. I don't need reminders of what I don't have every hour chiming on my phone. It is little things like that which allow me to free myself from the potential bondage of self pity that comes along with this struggle.
And so, I am sad again. But, in my sadness, I still look forward to seeing my dear friend's baby at breakfast tomorrow. I still enjoy working in a classroom. Most of all, I thank God for a husband who grieves with me but never lets me stay there. He pulls me back to the reality that my life is blessed... And even now, I look over at him sitting in the living room getting some last minute work done and I feel so in love. I am overwhelmed by joy to have this time to spend with him. And, I am so lucky to be living through this period of uncertainty and hope with so perfectly my other half.

My Love Song

Life is a beautiful poem that often makes little sense. But, it does help when you know the poet.
 I am just trying to make sense of the current chapter of life I am in. This space on the internet is where I will share my journey as my husband and I keep waiting to conceive. It has been two years. Only two years to some. . . . A whole two YEARS for me. . . . Either way, the poem is difficult to understand and maybe others can use a space to just be real about that.

This is going to be hard. I don't know why anyone will care what I have to say. But, perhaps these words will mean something to someone. Or maybe they will just mean something to me; and thats okay too. But I don't want the beauty I have found in my broken heart to be kept to myself when there may be others who can share in it. So, here is my joy in pain, for whoever comes across this small needle in a haystack of words. I hope it can bring solace to those in their own storms.


This is my love song.

<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/11629471/?claim=6gaqdmypetm">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>