baby mama drama
originally journaled september fifth, twenty sixteen
Like most girls in their twenties, i spent the better part of a decade consumed with worry I would never find a good man, dig my way out of credit card debt, or afford my own home. But worry didn’t put money in my bank account, a husband in my bed, or a roof over my head. Incessant stressing only served to delay my happiness.
It was not until I learned to let go of fear and start living inside my present that I finally became wildly happy. And once I redirected my energy, all those things I pined for eventually found me.
When I grew capable of appreciating honest love, my mister barreled his way into my life. When I focused on crafting my own unique career, the financial stuff fell into place. When a perfect private ranch was available, it became our home.
I often express my desire to scream into the face of my younger self: “Relax worried girl. Bask in the uncertainty. Celebrate the chaos. Everything is cool.”
But despite wishing I could wash away the worries of yesterday, today I am engulfed with a new set of fears. Once again, I am filling a beautiful life with relentless worry.
Getting pregnant in your thirties isn’t always easy and when my husband and I started our journey towards parenthood it was with complete understanding that I probably wouldn’t become pregnant immediately. And eight months later I know that just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean it won’t happen at all.
But once a month, every month, for the last eight months, my heart has broken. Every negative pregnancy test has shattered me and each time a well-intentioned person asks, “and when are you going to have a baby?” my heart blisters as I respond, “soon I hope.”
I have finally had enough. Before it is too late, I am reminding my present self to “Relax worried girl.” I am reclaiming my body. Surrendering to the process. Instead of worrying about what I might not be capable of, I am celebrating and enjoying my body for all of the incredible things it has and can experience. My eyes have seen the tremendous beauty of foreign lands. My heart continues to discover the good in others. My arms embrace my nephew. My legs have traversed thousands of miles.
The repetitious pounding of my feet on the pavement has always served to drown the worry which zips between the crevices of my brain. Yesterday in the pouring rain I ran six miles. An hour later I arrived back at my own doorstep. Baptized and Whole.
(Notation: Two weeks after I wrote this journal entry my husband and I discovered we were pregnant.)