Coping with the wait.....

Some days I feel like following my dream of having a baby to call my own is like following a rainbow. When you follow a rainbow in search of the pot of gold, you find that the rainbow keeps moving to another spot. Eventually you figure out that you'll never reach the end of the rainbow because it will keep changing on you. Right now this is how I feel about becoming a mommy. No matter what avenue I pursue, the end of the journey keeps changing. All around me people are welcoming new babies into their families, yet ours still remains the same: two adults and one dog. I feel like this will never change. I will continue to shop the baby department for clothes and toys for other people's babies, but never my own. I will continue to marvel at the miracle of birth, but never the birth of my own child. I will continue to watch bellies grow, but I will never see mine grow. I will continue to hold a newborn baby in my arms, yet I will still feel the ache to hold a baby that is mine. I will continue to plaster on a smile (sometimes easier than others) and congratulate the next "Wow! We're PG!" again and again (for some people many times over). I just have to wonder, when will it be my turn? How much will I have to endure before I finally get to experience the blessing of a baby in our family? How many more pregnancies will come and go before I finally will know the joy of holding my own child in my arms? When will there be an end to all this? My heart and my arms long to hold a baby named Sarah. To drink in her sweet baby scent, to feel her fingers tangled in my hair, to listen to her breath against my neck as we rock together, enjoying each other's presense. My heart longs to complain of sleepless nights, a fussy teething baby, and food stains on my couch. My hearts longs to take slow walks through the neighborhood examining each little "discovery" along the way abd to read stories together snuggled on the couch with "blankie" pointing out colors and shapes. My heart longs to deal with a temper tantrum meltdown in the grocery store or to sing "Old McDonald" for the umpteenth time. My heart longs to be the one who has to hang up the phone because it's *my* child torturing the dog or spilling the cereal on the floor. My heart longs to dress up my daughter in a cute little dress and take her to church and then pace the hallway because this time she's way to fussy to sit through the sermon. My heart longs for so much....the good *and* the bad of parenthood. Instead, I get to listen to others share their triumphs and tribulations of raising children and wonder "When, Lord, will it be my turn to share my stories?" When will I know first hand how hard it is to put a 3 yo to bed at night? When will it be my turn to hear the word "mommy" and know that it's ME? When will it be my turn to offer my child to anyone because I've "had it up to here today"? I keep asking. I keep trying to hang on to hope and faith. I keep plugging along. I keep waiting. And God keeps silent. He holds the answers to my questions, to my desires, to my hurts. I know that I must trust His timing. That He knows the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect child for our family to grow by one little girl. Yet still He keeps silent. I long for the day when my life will explode as we hold in our hands a tiny little picture of our beautiful daughter. When we *finally* have a face to put with a name. I long for the day, when we are exhausted from our journey, they place our little ladybug in my arms for the very first time. I long for when we arrive home for the first time and shut out the world for a short time and just enjoy the fact that we are finally parents. That we finally have a baby to call our own. That the wait is finally over....