the day has come to finally admit...

We are totally meant to be parents. I know, Tuesday is Housewalking day, so wait an hour for the next post if you'd prefer to skip the sentimental. I won't be offended. I won't even know.

I'll make this quick. I'm part of a group of 4 great women who meet Monday mornings for prayer (don't worry, we're not freaks). Three of us are pregnant, each about 8-12 weeks apart. (No pressure EVE, you newly married non-pregger. I like that your initials are now EVE.) The first was due in a week, the second in mid-August, and I'm due late November.

The first of us just had her little baby. I won't tease her here about the fact that she and her husband were convinced they were having a boy. Only to have a girl. I've been dreaming about our baby, always a girl, though Hawk is convinced its a boy. So what do I know. And when I held this new baby girl in my arms, though I've held dozens of babies over the years, this changed me. She's quite beautiful, and I write that in truth rather than from loyal friendship. But there's something about being with a woman as she goes through the whole 40 week process. Seeing her just about every week brought this new life more intimately into our own. 

It's a bit like when EVE, who was EK at the time, came to our rehearsal dinner and cried like the sentimental fool because she saw how happy we were and she knew she had the same coming to her. I watched this beautiful young couple whose marriage Hawk and I have admired for almost 4 years, and I can't help but catch the difference this little girl has made already. 

I believe we are also grateful because we tasted--briefly--the possibility of not being able to make a family this way. We witness some close, admirable friends going through years of trial; it increases our respect for life and for the lack of control we have. Total lack of control. Nothing to be proud of, only to be grateful for.


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