Pretty much my entire life I’ve had this generic plan. Get done with school, get married, have kids, be a stay at home mom, grow old, and move on to heaven. So far in my 33 years I’ve accomplished two out of the six. This used to bother me a lot, especially when I was in my mid to late twenties and it felt like all of my friends were having children. For a while I wanted children because I really love kids and that’s just what you do after you get married... right? After living married for about ten years, I think it’s become something so much more. I want children because I would love to have a family with my husband. I think it would be so wonderful to have an extension of mine and Kyle's love for each other. Look! We loved each other so much that a magical and beautiful baby popped out!
Right now it’s Kyle and I, and I love that. We've truly gotten a kick out of each other for the past 11 years. We do stuff whenever we want without having to worry about anything else other then letting our dog Charlie out. But, sometimes I get the feeling that we are missing out on something as cool and miraculous as watching a child walk for the first time, or... learn how to eat peas. If we don’t have a family, then what are we doing? Where the hell are we going?
Then comes the bigger questions… What if we weren’t meant to have a bigger family? And if I let go of the idea of motherhood, where does that leave my plan? Where does that leave my definition of who I thought I was or strived to be? It’s so easy to just say F the plan, just live your life as it comes, but that’s so much easier said than done. Where is Kyle in all of this decision making? In sweet husband fashion, he is happy with whatever makes me happy. If we don’t have any ankle bitters then he’s okay with that, if we do have them then he’s cool with that too.
The fact that I just haven’t gotten pregnant is another thing that kind of trips me up. Is God trying to tell me I shouldn’t have kids? What if God knows I’d make a terrible parent? Even though the hubs has said he could go either way, what if he gets to the point that he thinks he is too old to have kids? This is when I have to stop and pray that God helps me let this go. I think it's pretty clear that I still do want some sticky fingered, kool-aid stained, dirty faced, poopy kiddos. So, I'll tell you where I'm going, to pray for patience and the day that I can tell my kid to mow the lawn.
