I love Amy Scott. Amy Scott is this sweet girl who goes to our church and I got the pleasure of being her co-counselor this summer at Camp Cherokee. Amy and I are nothing alike. I giggle as I write that because she would agree with a giggle as well- we are polar opposites!
Why you ask? Well…
Amy thinks before she speaks, me- um, not so much.
Amy is the poster girl for natural beauty and looks amazing without makeup. I, on the other hand, pile on the makeup in the morning with a shovel. If you ever see me without makeup, ask me if everything is O.K., chances are my house burnt down.
Amy is an incredible listener who focuses on you when you speak. If I see a bird fly out of the corner of my eye all of a sudden my mind is wandering about birds and wondering what Wonder Woman’s superpower was, did she fly? Hold old was Wonder Woman? Did she like Wonder bread? Was she married? Did she have kids? Was “Wonder” her first name? That’s kinda a cool first name… wait… no… no it’s not.
You get the gist.
So when Amy recommend her boss be our pediatrician, I didn’t hesitate to say “yes please.” Amy knows babies, and I would be silly to not listen to her.
Yesterday we had the pleasure of meeting our new Baby Doc and we LOVED HIM. We are certain we want him to guide our little Q babies through their precious childhood years.
With that said, here’s the thing: Jeremy and I thought we were meeting him alone. We pictured an office with a little back and forth chatting and some questions and answers. We didn’t realize we would be in a group setting. A setting with two other pregnant women and their partners. Ok, not a big deal. This makes sense. He’s killing three birds with one stone. I’m sure this is normal… but…
Even though I know I’m going to be a mother and even though I know adoption is God’s plan for my life, I, all-of-a-sudden felt a lump in my throat and a shallowness to my breathing that I haven’t felt in a LONG time. I was jealous. I admit it. I was jealous of the advice our new doctor was giving these beautiful women about giving birth. I felt pangs of jealousy when he asked them their due dates and what gender their babies were.
I felt left out. Not part of the club. An imposter. Even, if I’m being honest, a little silly.
I don’t know when our baby is due or what gender we are having or what state for that matter. I don’t even know if this will happen soon or in a year.
I was so excited to walk into that office and then, out of nowhere, I was back to that place of confusion and uncertainly.
How does this story end? Well, I put on my smile, asked my questions, and even gave my number to one of the expecting mothers who is new to Florida. I did what we all do, I swallowed, breathed, shook it off and went home.
So that brings me to today. This morning I took four of my senior girls (I’m a drama teacher) on a little trip to our elementary school. They dressed up in costume, piled into my car and sang Taylor Swift at the top of their lungs. I’ve taught these girls since they were in 8th grade. When I say “taught” what I mean is: laughed, cried, held, picked up, brushed off, listened, disciplined, fought for and loved. They are the reason I get out of bed in the morning so early and down coffee. They are my life’s work. Their happiness is my goal, and in the meantime, we’ve created some pretty good theatre together.
Driving them to Starbucks after our little excursion, my heart was full- AND GUESS WHAT- I didn’t give birth to a single one of them. Then it hit me: If I can love these girls so fiercely and I’ve only taught them, this baby is going to know love like no other.
Yesterday was hard. Life gets hard. OK. Alright. But HOW BLESSED AM I to get to be a mother? Big belly or not. HOW BLESSED AM I?
Thank you, Jesus. You never disappoint.