Friday, October 12, 2012

When You're Pregnant Without a Due Date

Being pregnant is no walk in the park. I was not one of those women who glowed through every trimester. I was sick all through the first, enjoyed the second, and hated the third. I wanted to be one of those women who loved it, but I wasn't.

You know what was great about being pregnant, though? Having a due date. Knowing this will all end, one way or another, at a predictable time. Feeling the baby move rocks, too. On those days when I felt fat, and exhausted, and rather whiny, all I needed was a little tiny flutter of a knee or elbow to remind me it was worth it.

I am not frustrated, not even antsy about our adoption. I am just wondering. Wondering with a little, tiny ache in my heart. When is this baby going to come? Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying the HECK out of Squiggle and Squeeze right now. They are both growing up so much, leaving babyhood behind them and becoming so much easier to care for. Squiggle and I have actual conversations. Squeeze can express to me what she wants. It's awesome. But when I walk by teeny, tiny newborn clothes at Target my heart aches for a baby to fill them.

This ache is two fold, I realize. The first fold is an ache I will always have. I think most women, for most of their lives, are either longing for, or remembering, tiny babies. Teeny tiny baby clothes will always be adorable, and will always make me think of when my girls were teeny tiny. They will always make me squeal on the inside. But the second fold of that ache is a tangible desire for our third child to join the family.

The ache for Number Three was really getting to me recently. So much so that I thought to myself, "You know...we could just get pregnant." (Yes, I'm oversharing again.) How nice would it be to know exactly when the baby was coming? And to know it would be a teeny, tiny newborn. And to be able to breast feed. And to know exactly what kind of in utero experience the baby had. And to spend two glorious days in that hotel of a hospital breathing in new baby smell.

*At this point I would like to point out how EXTREMELY personal this decision is. What we decide as a family, is simply what we decide. In the exact same scenario, your family may come to a different conclusion and it will be the exactly right decision for you. Also, I'm aware that this dilema is not extremely common among adoptive families. Many families who decide to adopt come to the decision from a place of infertility. I want you to know that I am aware that the fact that I could just decide on a whim to have a baby biologically is annoying to you. It's ok, you have the right to be annoyed.*

Squiggle at the zoo that day.
So here's how cool God is. I woke up one morning thinking, "I want to have a baby so bad. If we're supposed to keep waiting to adopt I need God to, like, give me a sign or something. I need some confirmation that we're doing the right thing." I didn't actually ASK Him for a sign, I just half thought it. And, you know what? God heard my half thought.

So am I pregnant? No. Did we get THE call from our agency? No. That would be a really great ending to this story, wouldn't it?

Nope. Here's what happened... That day I went to the zoo. And at the zoo I ran into a lady I met months ago at an adoption information meeting hosted by Kara Higgins. And not just that one lady. She was with two other adoptive moms. Between the three of them, they had five or six awesome boys from Ethiopia running around their feet. We didn't say much. I updated her on where we were at in our adoption journey. She was so glad I stopped her to say hi. That was it. And that was all I needed. When I told The King this story he said, somewhat disappointedly, "So that was your sign?"

Yes. Yes, it was. I know God led my steps that day so I would run into her...and feel my baby move.


  1. You just had to go for the jugular at the end. I'm so proud of you.

  2. "and feel my baby move." Beautiful. I must be hormonal or something, this one made me tear up. :)

  3. Score! I'm a fan of hitting the jugular.

  4. Oh! This was awesome, and I'm so glad you got your sign. They don't always have to be a glaring, neon light. :)

    But . . . I'm leaving this post laughing -- is that ok? Laughing because you said you're a fan of hitting the jugular, and because of your husband's online nickname.

    1. He LOVES it. Of course. His name means "kingly" AND he was born on King's Day. So it fits him. Oh yeah, and he's, like, the head of our household or whatever. :)