Saturday, February 27, 2010
Desire to Mother
'It's like being hungry
or having to pee'
I once heard it said,
wanting to have a baby.
I know how she felt
for I feel that way as well.
It's difficult to explain,
difficult to tell.
Each month it gets harder,
every time you're more eager.
You get depressed,
you feel your time will be never.
The old wives tale,
that babies come in threes,
One... Two... Three...
Again it's not me.
They all assume you're waiting,
which makes you want to cry.
They encourage, say that's great,
you don't tell them that you try.
You try not to get your hopes up,
but your hopes are defiant.
So you keep on planning,
how to say that you're pregnant.
Will you ever get your baby?
Will I ever get mine?
You're tired of hearing,
'Just wait some time'
It's like a hole in your chest,
you feel so alone.
Am I really this desperate?
*Theses feelings not shown*
What if we can't have one?
The doubts begin to start.
If we couldn't have one,
would God put that desire in my heart?
Don't know what the future holds,
we'll just have to wait and see.
Hope my husband gets home soon now.
Need to try again for that baby.
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May 8th 2017
Another Mother's Day
Mother's Day is hard for me,
Because for so long I longed to be a mommy.
Becoming a foster mom, in part,
made my dreams come true.
But that "foster" part?
is a difficult thing to do.
I've lost so many children,
in so little time.
More than one of which,
I wished forever'd be mine.
I now have an adopted son,
maybe more adopted later.
And though having him helps,
it doesn't make things all better.
Even though I know I shouldn't,
Mother's Day I dread.
Wish I could simply ignore,
it's existence instead.
-----------------------------------
Poem: Why?
We were doing a Ladies Bible Study at church. I hadn't written many poems in a while, but we were given homework and our homework was to write a poem; a poem entitled "Why?". That's it. That's all the info for our homework we were given. No pointers on what it was to be about, just... Why? It didn't take me long to figure out the topic for my poem.
In October our 3 year old foster son, "Ronny", who was now 4, left our home. He'd been with us just one week shy of a year. The adoptive parents said they wanted to stay in touch, but months went by with them not contacting us. My heart? Torn.
In April we had gotten Darrell's little brother placed with us. But because of jurisdictional problems with how he came into foster care, he returned home to his birth parents before the week was out. Thought if he ever came to us... if he ever did.... thought he'd never leave. He was 2 and a half months old. We had a new name picked out for him, but called him Bubba because we weren't ready to use it yet. When he left? We went on hiatus. Our adoption of Darrell had just happened, and without Bubba here anymore, we currently had no foster kids. So we took a break. Shut our doors while we tried to move on.
In May our old 3 year old, I mean 4 year old Ronny, got adopted. Someone sent me a message when they saw the adoption photos on Facebook. I thought I had moved on. I thought I was passed the heartache of Ronny leaving. But seeing that kind of proof that he'd never return...... I found there was a lot more hurt in my heart than I realized; I found myself angry with God for the pain that I felt.
Here's the poem that I wrote:
***********************
June 18th 2017
Why?
What I always wanted to be;
You denied me.
You called me to another way,
at first I selfishly obeyed.
One step closer, but wanting more.
parenthood like I'd never dreamed before.
Why? Why? Why God, WHY?!?
Why must my dreams of motherhood die?
This foster title takes so much away,
especially when so many don't stay.
Why must my heart break again and again??
Constantly I let selfishness slip in.
If You'd have just given me my own..
this pain I feel I'd never have known.
But You lifted a veil, and now I see;
Constantly reminded it's not about me.
My heart breaks for the child who had to say goodbye.
Sometimes it breaks for the family, or angry tears I cry.
Why God? Why must I feel this pain?
Sometimes I wish ignorance I could regain....
----------
My child, My sweet child,
I know how much it hurts you so.
But there are others who need My love,
and without the pain you would never go.
Go where I need you child;
be My hands and feet.
There are so many lost souls,
I have yet for you to meet.
I need for you to hurt,
to see them as I do.
These families are precious to Me,
just as precious as you.
Come to Me child,
rest in My embrace.
If you will only let Me,
I'll wipe the tears from your face.
What you are doing now,
is part of a greater plan.
One day you will see,
how much you were My feet and hands.
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I've Made Peace
Winter/Spring 2025
I've made peace with it.
I, myself, on my own.
I'm good, I'm content,
I no longer feel the hole.
Better than Rachel,
"Give me children or I'll die!",
I've found contentment,
Burying my desires deep inside.
God You've grown our family,
Through the means of someone else,
And I know that was Your plan,
But for me to have one myself?
"Do not lie to your servant.",
Is what the Shunammite woman said,
Those hopes and dreams are buried,
And I want to keep them dead.
God it hurts to hope,
And see nothing change.
To let down my husband, my family, my friends,
When everything stays the same.
We're good now, we're past this,
They no longer expect it of me.
God how dare You speak hope,
That I should have a pregnancy.
Like Abraham I show You other children,
Whom I hold so dear,
Just bless me with their adoptions,
That's the plan, right? Clear?
Like Sarai, like Rachel,
Feel building my husband's family is up to me.
Got a bed, a table, a lamp for Elisha,
We're good now, see?
But You insist there's someone more,
A daughter from my womb You say.
I want to be like Hannah,
And my countenance be changed.
Lord make me as Rebekah,
Elizabeth, and Manoah's wife,
To see the things which were prophesied,
Coming true in my life.
Til then I'll be as Mary,
"May it be as you have said.",
Lord make me like these women,
Whom about I've read.
I, myself, on my own.
I'm good, I'm content,
I no longer feel the hole.
Better than Rachel,
"Give me children or I'll die!",
I've found contentment,
Burying my desires deep inside.
God You've grown our family,
Through the means of someone else,
And I know that was Your plan,
But for me to have one myself?
"Do not lie to your servant.",
Is what the Shunammite woman said,
Those hopes and dreams are buried,
And I want to keep them dead.
God it hurts to hope,
And see nothing change.
To let down my husband, my family, my friends,
When everything stays the same.
We're good now, we're past this,
They no longer expect it of me.
God how dare You speak hope,
That I should have a pregnancy.
Like Abraham I show You other children,
Whom I hold so dear,
Just bless me with their adoptions,
That's the plan, right? Clear?
Like Sarai, like Rachel,
Feel building my husband's family is up to me.
Got a bed, a table, a lamp for Elisha,
We're good now, see?
But You insist there's someone more,
A daughter from my womb You say.
I want to be like Hannah,
And my countenance be changed.
Lord make me as Rebekah,
Elizabeth, and Manoah's wife,
To see the things which were prophesied,
Coming true in my life.
Til then I'll be as Mary,
"May it be as you have said.",
Lord make me like these women,
Whom about I've read.