Processing

The last two days I have experienced such a wide and varying degrees of emotions. At my best I am hopeful and my gaze is strong as I look out on the unseen adventure that awaits us. Another journey, a new road, a different baby. I keep telling the Lord that I really liked the old story, the one that just seeped through my fingertips like sand. I tell him that the road I took was hard and long and that I expected something on the other side of it. My hands are empty Lord, but I will keep holding them out until you fill them. I tell him that I loved the old embryo, The One (reading this post wrecks me), that specific set of chromosomes, the person he was going to be. But we don’t get to choose the things that are out of our control. If we’re being honest with ourselves, it’s all out of our hands, even the things we grip so tightly our knuckles turn white.

My house feels a little emptier somehow and that room we call “the baby room” feels a little bigger. What the heck am I going to fill this place up with so it doesn’t look so…so barren?

I want to fill up my days with meaningful things, but it’s hard for me to find what those are right now. Processing is a process.