Babies, Babies, Babies

Babies. They're everywhere! Especially when you're trying to have one and haven't been successful yet.

I was stalking all my friends on Facebook yesterday and noticed that one of my very dear friend's relatives mentioned something about more babies in the family. Even though this family is full of people who are good at reproducing, I had a feeling it might be my friend. So I texted her and told her what I read and asked if it was her.

While waiting to hear back from her, I was worried how I would feel if she was pregnant. She has several wonderful, beautiful, and highly entertaining children already. Would I feel like it was "unfair" for her to have another while we were working hard for one? Would I just assume that the world revolves around me and my ability to have kids? "Sorry everyone, it's my turn to have a baby, so the rest of you will just have to hold off until I get pregnant?"

Well, she called me back and confirmed that it was her. And my reaction surprised me. I was so so so so happy for her! I mean way more than I had been for several other people. Maybe it's because we're pretty close friends. Maybe it's because I'll take any babies around, even if I'm not the one having them. Whatever the reason, my heart just burst for her. She's an incredible mom! And incredible doesn't even seem like a good enough word to describe how awesome of a mom she is.

And then, because she is such a sweetheart, she told me, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you because I know you guys are trying and this wasn't really planned. It's pretty rude."

My friend apologized for being pregnant.

I told her that she didn't need to apologize and that I truly was super excited for them! We got to chat for a little bit about how their lives will continue to change. How she's going to have to get that minivan. And when we hung up, I was all ready to have a pity party for myself.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited for those tears of feeling sorry for myself to come.

But they didn't.

I think I'm maturing.

That, or God is trying to tell me something.

I think it's the latter.

I'm not sure what he's trying to tell me or teach me, but I'm open to it.

Mind you, I've been working really, really hard to get myself to being open to God's lessons for me. I am still working on letting go and letting him lead.

Slowly

but

surely.

Sidenote: Clint and I were watching Where the Red Fern Grows this weekend and one of the lines really struck me to remember it. "I realized what Grandpa meant about meeting God halfway. I'd do the work and God would give me the heart and determination to get through it." I'm not sure how this fits in with me, but I have a strong feeling it does.