The Desire

I know this really isn't my designated "poor Marcie can't have a baby" blog, but its about my life, so I get to talk about it here.

The desire to be a mom is constant.  I long to hold a baby in my arms.  The term "baby" is fluid though...an infant.  A two-year old.  A seven-year-old.  I can picture myself sitting on the floor of our apartment, tickling a baby's tummy, giggles filling the room.  I can picture myself with a kindergartener, teaching him or her how to tie shoes.  Poorly, according to my mother.  I can picture myself hand-in-hand with a second grader walking along a deer trail in the woods, looking for colorful leaves, acorns, and signs of other wildlife, answering all the "Why, mama?" type questions I'm able to.

I can see all those things.

But the issue is that I don't always picture the same child.  Sometimes I see a little girl with dark, bouncy curls, Ryan's brown eyes, and a joyful spirit making rivers with stolen spoons in the sanbox in the back yard.

Other times, I picture us with a boy with dark skin, and a crown of tight, black curls having a hard time sitting still during the sermon at church, but singing every praise song and hymn with the most beautiful, angelic voice.

I don't necessarily know how the road to parenthood will "end."  I don't know how we're going to get there.  I don't know if our next round of fertility treatments is going to work.  I don't know if God is going to lay it on our hearts to bring a child into our family through the miracle of adoption.

All I know is that the desire to be a parent weighs heavily on my heart.  Its a desire I never thought I'd have, or that I'd long to have fulfilled...