Embracing the Unknown, But Knowing the One Who Knows

By Megan

My sweet husband sent me away overnight to a spa last night, sort out of the blue, with zero regard for my blogging commitments, darn him, so I’m posting from my archives today.

I am not, let me repeat, I AM NOT PREGNANT AGAIN. Thank you and have a wonderful day, y’all!

“God, I just do not know. You know. If You want another child for us, You can make one happen.”

As I dragged my tired, sausage-like body up the stairs a minute ago, I called down to my husband, “Honey, I’m going to write now. If you hear sobbing, just ignore it, I’ll be fine in an hour or two.”

And I meant it. I’ve been trying to avoid deep thoughts on the subject of parenting lately, as allowing myself to travel any mental distance beyond the rote daily thoughts and activities involved in caring for my family and running the household nearly always finds me, in the end, in a puddle of tears. I’ve been filled with guilt and self-doubt, worry and sentimentality, no doubt thanks in great part to hormones, the rest I attribute to this precipice Bean, Al and I stand on – the Three Musketeers – as we await the arrival of the fourth little guy, whom we don’t even know but will be awash in love for within moments of his birth and will remain that way until the end of each of our days.

Having become a Mama for the first time at age 37, I carefully savored each moment of my pregnancy with Bean, feeling certain this was the first and last time I’d experience it. Though Al never ruled out the possibility of more children, something inside me decided one would be blessing enough, and after a textbook labor and delivery and then laying my eyes on the most beautiful baby God ever made, I simply couldn’t imagine topping the experience. Worse yet, I feared the dropping of the proverbial other shoe, should we ever enter into the pregnancy/birth/baby arena again. So each first with Bean was a last, too, in my mind and heart, and I’ve learned to walk through my life as her mother with all senses fully alert to every beginning and ending, holding quiet, reflective emotional vigil as she physically left my own body, as we ended our nursing relationship, as she’s gradually stepped out in independence from me, even as I changed her last diaper. I’ve carefully captured each moment as the final droplet of another fleeting facet of motherhood.

As she’s grown, though, Al and I have discussed the possibility of a second child – him ready and at times even anxious, me hesitant and very unsure. For a year, between Bean’s second and third birthdays, I battled internally – could I do it? Was I enough mother? Enough wife? What would it mean to my relationship with Bean? What would it mean to be nearly 40 and starting again from the beginning with a newborn when I’d as much as declared myself all done and made peace with that? The answers didn’t come. They wouldn’t. I remained at a crossroads through four seasons, my prayer in the end simply, “God, I just do not know. You know. If You want another child for us, You can make one happen.”

Thirteen days after Bean turned three, He did.

This child I’m carrying brings with him so many questions. So much change. In all of the uncertainty and doubt, I lean on the prayer I uttered time and time again when my own human mind couldn’t reach a resolution, and I know that God chose this child for us. For me, for Al, and even for Bean.

He’s meant to be ours and for now, that’s enough answer for me.

Megan also blogs at Fried Okra.