Being Brave

These last couple of months after being told that I probably will not be able to have more children have felt almost like I am living someone else's life. It's one of those things that is just so bad that "it only happens to other people" - you know what I'm talking about. I can't tell you how difficult hearing that news was. Those of you who know me well know that I am an avid planner, almost a little OCD about it. I always planned to have kids close in age to grow up together and with two dues dates that have come and gone and a third quickly approaching and still no baby, my heart is breaking.

It is so easy to get caught up in the fact that I don't have a baby right now. That Charlie isn't a big sister, and she might never get to be one. I find myself getting wrapped up in other peoples’ lives and seeing their cute families grow and wanting what they have so badly. But not just for me, for Jared and for Charlie (please tell me that makes me less selfish?!). So I have been focusing extra hard lately on the life that is in front of me. As hard as it is some mornings to drag myself out of the house I do because I made a decision to refuse to let Charlie miss out on anything. As much as it pains me to not have another little baby I am trying to take advantage of special time with Charlie and we are doing everything we probably wouldn't be able to do if I just had a baby or was still pregnant (included but not limited to: eating raw cookie dough, sushi, dance class, girls nights, date nights ect.). We've been surviving on the little things lately.

Like donuts in the park.

End of summer evening walks.

LOTS of Lake days.

 

And snuggles.

SO.MUCH.BAKING.

And probably a little bit too much spoiling of my girl.

But can you blame me?

I've been thinking a lot about motherhood and what it means. I don't think it can't be summed up in just one word. A mother is a nurturer; someone whole loves unconditionally and with their whole heart. Someone who puts anothers needs far above their own. A mother is a source of patience, of love and of kindness. I could go on forever because I just think motherhood is that great, but lately for me when I think of motherhood the first thing that comes to my mind is the word brave.
It takes so much courage to become a mother. Even to think about becoming a mother and more so trying to become one. The waiting for that baby and the disappointment when you don't get the results you want, the terror of the unknown, being solely responsible for the life of an innocent, sending them out into the world hoping and praying they make good choices or don't get hurt. Perhaps for some it comes easy, but I have found this job to require more bravery than I ever thought I could muster up. I have had several people tell me how strong I am but can I tell you guys a secret? I don't feel strong at all! I feel like the only reason why I can handle it is because I have to.

At the end of my hall (placed ever so strategically right above a mirror) are the words "be brave". I walk down that hall a hundred times a day and see these words staring back at me, and sometimes that's what gets me through the moment, because sometimes I just need a little reminder to be brave in this scary world. Even if it just means letting my child grow up and try new things.

There is a talk by Elder Hugh B. Brown that I've found I turn to often during different times of my life and I always feel like it applies. It was written many years before I was born or probably even thought of, but I just know it was written especially for me! It is my favorite talk so I'm going to share a small part of it.

"I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

Things have always come pretty easy for me but I am quickly learning that there are times in life when things simply do not go the way that we want. We try as hard as we can and strive to make choices we believe to be righteous and yet sometimes opportunities are denied and disappointment occurs.  So in my times of sorrow and disappointment I pull strength from knowing I have a loving Heavenly Father that has a plan for me. A good plan. The right plan. Even if it's not the plan I made for myself. He knows. And as hard as it may be some days I trust him because I know he loves me enough to cut me down.

***When I shared the recent struggles we've been having I had no idea it would get the response that it did! I honestly wrote it more for myself that anything else. I am in shock at the outpouring of love I’ve received and I cannot thank you all enough for reaching out to me with kind words and your own personal stories. I know how sacred those can be and I feel honored that you would share them with me to make me feel better. So, THANK YOU! Thank you for all the prayers and thoughts and words. It has helped and I am so grateful to be surrounded by such wonderful people.