Thursday, February 17, 2011

'Who let YOU in here?'

Yesterday Sam and I may have kinda played hookey a little bit and spent the afternoon at the children's museum.  Just Sam and just me.  He got to pick the places to go and how long to stay there.  This was monumental for Sam.  And me.

Taking just one child to the museum is something I have not done in years.  Seven years to be exact.  There were even a few years that we didn't go there at all because taking all three once Sam started walking became just too difficult.  So this new season of our life, where going places is easier, doing things is more enjoyable, and even getting one on one time occasionally is a nice change of pace.

Except every single other person in the joint was pregnant.  And if not pregnant, carrying a newborn.  Seriously newborn, like probably on their way home from the hospital.  Or pushing a stroller holding some cute round baby.  All of them.  Well, except the grandparents who were there pushing around strollers full of round drooly babies.  All of them- their freakin' babies or pregnant bellies- and us.  The children's museum is no place, apparently, for a woman whose uterus aches every time she is reminded that it will forever be empty.

But I was comforting myself with my new season jargan.  I'm trying really hard to embrace that my time to bring new life into the world is done, and my hands are really full anyway.  I love my children and they are so awesome and fulfilling and make me happy.  Which is why one more couldn't be bad.  Stop that.  Too much laundry, lack of patience, no time for all of the important stuff.  Not much cash, braces are expensive, book rental is expensive, sweet mother of pearl little league is expensive.  Three is enough.  Three is perfect.  Three is more than I ever thought I might get to have.  I was so afraid I would never even get one. In my heart I ALWAYS wanted four.  But three is perfect. And enough.

And then I'd turn around and BAM!  Some giant bellied pregnant happy lady with thick hair and strong nails.  Poop.  It started all over.

And then I got to thinking.  I wonder if God has never taken this desire away for a reason.  I've prayed about it, I've begged Him to take away this yearning (or give the desire back to Dan).  But it is still there.  Even as we get farther away from the time that would have been 'right' to have another, I can't shake it. 

And then I had almost an epiphany of sorts. My heart almost felt relieved as I realized that maybe it's because He has a plan that will bring another child into our home.  Maybe He does need us to be foster parents and just needs me to keep that option open.  And He does that by making me want to kick pregnant women.

I've always wanted to be a foster family.  But Dan and I decided we would wait until a later season of our life, one where the children would be old enough to understand what is going on.  Where they would be safer, and less confused.  And be able to love freely and pray openly for the children that would come and go from our life.  A season that I think might be dawning.  I felt peace wash over me like a river.  And I actually helped the pregnant lady up off the ground from where I had knocked her out of my line of vision.

Sam and I ventured to the Playscapes area, a special spot for kids ages 5 and under only.  He hadn't been in this area for well over a year.  I knew he would remember how awesome it was and LOVE spending time in there playing.  We walked in and instead of running straight to the water table, like he has ALWAYS done, he hung with me.  He looked around.  Walked past the water.  Past the sand.  Past the giant front loader that he ALWAYS used to sit in.  Played with the wooden trains for a moment.  Came back by the play house without even venturing in.  He played on the floating river raft thing.  He did spend about 20 minutes or so making all kinds of great rubbings of seahorses, trains and a fish. 

Then he looked at me ever so seriously with his little hands tucked in his pockets and said "Let's get out of here, this place smells like a giant babies diaper".  And so we left.

Goodbye Playscapes, I'm afraid our time in your world has come and gone.  But only until we see what God has planned next.  You might never see Sam again, but I might be back!  Worst case scenario I will be one of those grandparents with the strollers.

*No pregnant woman were harmed in our actual visit to the museum.

1 comment:

Cape Coop said...

That's sweet. I read but rarely comment, hope that's OK.