I'm laying here in my new bedroom doing some thinking. As my belly undulates from my energetic son, I hear the muffled sounds of my husband and father- in- law working out on our back deck. Getting used to the new sounds and smells and feels of our new home, I feel so full and yet so empty. Across the hall from me sits a baby room. beautifully painted, but furniture-less. It's tenant hasn't arrived yet, and so it naturally feels lonely. The room serves a purpose, and it's kind of ready, but it's kind of not.
I'm thinking, I'm kind of like that room. I feel like I've been painted, ready to embrace life. Equipped with how to respond in tough situations, knowing the right words and thoughts, so in some ways I'm ready. But in some ways, I'm just not.
Part of my heart is saying the Lord is always good. He could do nothing for me for the rest of my life, and He would still be good, because that's just who He is. The other part of me has a few questions I'd like to ask Him. And possibly with some sass behind my tone of voice.
I'm thinking about broken relationships. People who have pretended to be a friend, who have used me for their own gain, who have talked friendship to my face and the opposite when my back was turned. Who have blamed me for a changed friendship, but expect me to be the only pursuer in the relationship. Who use me when it's convenient for them, but forget about me when all I need is their compassion. But I'm thinking about the good ones, too. The ones who know me. Who have put effort into me and my family. Who want to see me happy with no other motive but their love for me. The ones who will do anything they can think of to somehow make me smile, whether they get to see it or not.
I'm thinking about my life. I'm thinking about how for as long as my memory serves, I feared either not being able to have children. Or having a child with physical problems :: Cue Alanis Morrisette's "Isn't it Ironic":: I'm thinking about my visit to the doctor today. The painfully long ultrasound, where in my head over. and over. and over. I said "Jesus, speak kidney. Jesus, speak kidney. Jesus, speak kidney." I'm thinking about the possible outcomes. The bad ones. What the doctor tried to explain to me. The terminology that makes no sense to me. I'm thinking of the words surgery. For a little, tiny baby. A baby who hasn't even breathed his first breath yet. Who consumes me. All of me. My every thought. My body. A baby that is equally me as he is Owen. The same baby that had me worried about being a mom, now has me worried for entirely different reasons.
I'm thinking of the doctor with the kind smile who told me that there were positives to this appointment. The 'syndrome' has been knocked out as a possibility. Everything else looks to be going great. And the fluid in my stomach is very good, meaning the right kidney is doing something right, because my boy is peeing.
I'm thinking about my first trimester when that kidney was supposed to develop. Going through the list of all the things I ate or didn't eat. The couple weeks I stopped taking my Prenatal vitamins because they were making me vomit. The days spent laying in bed sicker than I've ever been while everyone told me 'Yea but being sick is a good thing. It means the baby is healthy.' Yet, I was sick. And his left kidney refused to form.
I'm thinking about my wedding day. Seeing pictures of 2 very happy people with their whole lives ahead of them. I'm thinking of me a year ago. What I could have possibly been doing on a Thursday night in August. No idea how my world would be shaking and shifting soon.
I'm thinking about God. How he knits us together in our mother's womb. How we are told He is so close to us. And I'm thinking I've never felt Him further away. That if He was really paying attention to what He was knitting, we wouldn't be having the 1 in every 1,000 babies born without one of their kidneys. If He is in charge of these things and is 'so close to us' then what was the oversight? Why us?
I'm thinking of my husband. Who's faith hasn't seemed to be shaken. Who doesn't question "Why Us?". Who doesn't hear the negative the doctor is saying, but has the ability to abstract only the positive. I'm thinking about him and how much I love that about him. And yet, how much it bothers me.
I'm thinking about what I would be writing if our appointment today ended with "There it is! He has 2 kidneys." How I would have cried happy tears and shouted to the masses about how good and wonderful and wise and protective and healing and providing MY GOD IS. Because He is all those things. And even though I'm having a hard time seeing it right now, I believe it. I know I do. I have to.
I'm thinking of all the people who have taken time out of their day to pray for the 3 of us. I'm thinking of silent tears offered up as prayers with no words. I'm thinking of Jesus taking those prayers, whether they be loud and bold, or little whisperings. I'm thinking of Him approaching the throne, asking on my behalf. I'm thinking of Him getting the answer "No."
And while I'm so thankful tonight for so many things.
Laying here.
Thinking.
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