And just like that, the comfort of the darkness of Lent washed away and I was brought to my knees with the grief of it all. Yes, I realize that at CD5, I should be feeling better, but I'm a little slow, and thick-headed, sometimes. No, I did not spend the last 5 days thinking I could be pregnant, but I did spend them so busy I barely had time to stop or think.
And then there was my prayer meeting.
And then the drive home.
And then the tears. Again.
I have been brought to tears many times since starting on this road. But this was the first time I felt physically pulled to my knees by the weight of it. Physically. I went into our spare bedroom, the room that is meant for a baby - it has the closet with the afghan made by my great-grandma; the dresser that was my godmothers and then mine; and the rocking chair and bed that belonged to my great-grandma. It even has a child's night-time prayer on the wall and a crucifix suitable for a child's room. It has everything but the baby.
These things have been moving with me since I started college.
They've had their place in another room; in another house.
Even when my words and my surface feelings were ones of not wanting children, all of the plans and signs were there. The dresser was waiting; the rocking chair eagerly accepted; the afghan taken to save for a little girl someday.
And last night, for the first time, I allowed myself to go into that room and see it. Really see it. The dresser waiting to be refinished. The rocking chair waiting for new cushions. The afghan folded neatly on the shelf in the closet. I allowed myself to really see and consider it all. And to realize how badly it hurts that it hasn't happened. That there is no guarantee it will happen.
I have spent many hours in prayer on this journey; on my knees at church, in bed, in the shower, in the car. But today, I was pulled out of the rocking chair and to my knees in the middle of a room-that-isn't.
And I saw/pictured/felt (there just isn't a "right" word) Jesus behind me. Placing a hand on my back and looking upon me with gentle eyes, full of the same hurt that I feel. Reminding me that even when it doesn't feel like it, He is with me.
I was given a journal by Alison a while back. I knew as soon as I saw it what I would use it for: Letters to the baby we are hoping and praying for. I have only written in it twice. But now I know I will write in it more. I will do it in the room that is waiting. And I will tell the story of how the Grace of God and His Beloved Son are carrying me through.
Prayer buddy, I'm offerring this all up for you. Praying that whatever part of your house is waiting is filled soon. And to my prayer buddy, you must be doing some amazing praying because that image was so real and from so outside of me and exactly what I needed...thank-you.