It's hard to wait.
I wish I were more patient. It appears that is a theme for me lately.
The distracted feel of the past few days reminds me of how I so often felt early in my pregnancy with Emry: promising and hopeful, but nothing certain. I couldn't be blissfully trusting after my miscarriage; I couldn't count on the pregnancy turning out well. I had to make it through each hurdle of pregnancy, each week that passed, each test that turned out, my confidence slowly growing to the point where I could believe.
And then, of course, when all that waiting came to an end -- I have to say that I do think I appreciate Emry that much more, having waited for him. Being forced to delay the gratification of becoming a mother the second time around. The silky-cheek-kissing gratification.
I guess it's like that when we're waiting for our dreams to turn into reality. You do all you can, and then there's the waiting part, the being with uncertainty. Sometimes it feels exhausting. On Monday, I had a meltdown day. I felt the strain of holding all the elements of our current situation, like I was juggling balls that I couldn't ever set down. Trying to make things work out by sheer force of mental will. Which of course doesn't work. So instead I am trying to float along, riding the waves of uncertainty. Surfing in limbo-land.
And maybe a little distracting myself by reading blogs.
The possibilities we chose for this year feel even more appropriate right now. Abundance, vitality & faith -- I am repeating it like a mantra this gray, drizzly, waiting day.