Enough

Something extraordinary happened to me today. 

I found out a dear friend is pregnant. That’s not extraordinary. Everyone I know is pregnant. You think I’m exaggerating, but I have 17 pregnant friends, and 9 friends with babies born since September.  Not just Facebook friends or acquaintances, either—real see-them-at-church, go-to-their-showers, send-them-baby-blankets friends. 

It’s an epidemic, and I sometimes think I might be at the center of it—like if you’re my friend, you’re 883,584 times more likely to get pregnant than if you’re not.  I’m like an incredibly successful fertility drug.  My friend Kelly used to say that if you want to get married, you should be his roommate, because for a couple years everyone who moved in with him promptly met someone, fell in love, moved out, and got married.  That’s how I am with pregnancies, I think. Trying to conceive?  I’m your ticket.  It works for you…but it doesn’t seem to be working for me.

Henry will be five this year, and since his first birthday, we’ve been trying to have another baby: seeing doctors, praying, longing. I’ve miscarried twice. After miscarrying twins last February I took a time out to train for the marathon, knowing on some sludgy, inarticulate level that I couldn’t try any more for a while, that my heart couldn’t bear any more.  

The marathon was several months ago.  Nothing to report.  And in the meantime, approximately every woman I know between twenty and forty has announced a pregnancy.

At one point this winter I was feeling so tender and raw about it that at dinner with my family, I said, “If any of you are pregnant, I just need you to tell me now.”  I said this to my almost 60-year-old parents and my single brother.  They stared at me with confusion, but that point, nothing would have surprised me.  My phone’s probably pregnant.  That chair over there probably just got pregnant without even trying.

Clearly, I was not handling this well. At one point, I told Aaron: pregnant is the new skinny.  What I meant is this: if you know me at all, you know that one of my most cracked-up terribly errant beliefs is that skinny people are always happy. Because I think I would be happy all day long if I was skinny. If something upset me, I would just look down at my long, skinny legs—happiness! If my heart was broken, I’d just put on a bikini and that sadness would vanish. 

Listen, I know this isn’t true. I know this is crazy talk. I know miserable skinny people. But I confess that sometimes I want to shake them:  I know, I know, this or that has got you down, but find a three-way mirror and look at your butt.  Don’t you feel better now?  I know I would.

I found myself believing the same thing about being pregnant—that all my left-out, broken-down, fragile, ugly feelings would vanish the second I saw the magical line on the test.  I know it’s not true, but I felt it.

I became the person that people don’t want to tell. I hate that. A friend told me her happy, fantastic news, and just a second later she burst out crying, afraid for how this would make me feel. I hate that. I work really hard to arrange my face in such a way that approximates uncomplicated glee. And I am happy for them, of course. But sometimes just after the happiness is the desperation. Some days are easier than others.

At one point I told Aaron that if I found out I wasn’t pregnant that month, I’d break something glass, just to feel it shatter. I was counting the days all the time, recounting, hoping. 

And then I found out that I wasn’t pregnant. Again. I didn’t break anything, but it seems that something broke inside me.  Something cracked and all the energy and fear and roiling anger drained out. I felt calm and empty. I felt sad but not devastated. I began to think about it in terms of a year, about wanting to have a baby this year, and less about this month! This month! This month.   

I was exhausted, and I couldn’t carry it anymore.  Enough.  Enough.

It had reached fever pitch—consuming, obsessive, frantic. Unsustainable. It was like an addiction and that moment was like getting sober: raw, silent, clear-eyed, the absolute stillness after a storm. It felt like praying.

This morning, when I heard the news about my friend, I felt what I’ve wanted to feel all along but couldn’t locate: uncomplicated and deep happiness. I felt happy for her. Very, very happy. And I feel so thankful for that feeling, for being able to be uncomplicatedly happy for the people I love.  

It could all change again next month—I know that. I’ve been around this block for years now: easier and harder, more complicated and less. I’m all serene and happy right now but I could be back to throwing glassware next month. This morning, though, I’ll take what I can get.

The word that came to my mind this morning was ENOUGH. 

Enough: I don’t want to live like that anymore. And enough: I have enough. I have more than I need, more than I could ask for.  I have a son who delights me every single day. A husband I adore. A family that walks with me well and friends that make the world feel rich.  I do work I care about—no small thing.

It’s not wrong to want another baby…but there’s a fine line in there, and I feel I’ve crossed it a few times this winter, and crossed over into that terrible territory where you can’t be happy unless you have just that thing you want, no matter what else you have. Speaking of children, that’s how they are--demanding, myopic, only able to focus on what they need in that moment. That’s not how I want to live. That's not who I want to be.

I want to cultivate a deep sense of gratitude, of groundedness, of enough, even while I’m longing for something more. The longing and the gratitude, both. I’m practicing believing that God knows more than I know, that he sees what I can’t, that he’s weaving a future I can’t even imagine from where I sit this morning.

Extraordinary, indeed.  

More than enough.



Comments

[Casi]

This really spoke to me and where I am at in life... "I want to cultivate a deep sense of gratitude, of groundedness, of enough, even while I’m longing for something more. The longing and the gratitude, both. I’m practicing believing that God knows more than I know, that he sees what I can’t, that he’s weaving a future I can’t even imagine from where I sit this morning"

Thank you, Shauna, for sharing your heart.

[Kelsey]

Thank you for sharing! My husband and I have recently started trying and I can say it's easy to fall into this ditch. Praying!

[Cathy]

Love and Prayers and Love and Prayers...Thank you for being you and for sharing.

[bridget]

Shauna...

I think this post will touch SO many people. We always thought we would have a few children. Our first one came and was a preemie....2 lbs 13 ozs....but came through with flying colors. Then, we tried for more. Multiple miscarriages. It's hard.....it's hard going through miscarriages...putting your body and brain through it. We made a decision to be happy with what we had.....a MIRACLE baby, really. As my sister said, "maybe you weren't supposed to have any, and he is your miracle."

And I felt EXACTLY the same way as you. Getting that smile ready for everyone else's news. I think I've come to peace with it for the most part. Ours will be 12 soon and he's our one-and-only. I think the hardest part is when people question why we don't have more and I feel like I have to defend myself.

I love this post....enjoy your family of 3! :)

[Mandy]

I have to admit, I laughed out loud at my desk at church at "My phone’s probably pregnant. That chair over there probably just got pregnant without even trying."

I love how you just brought this full circle. You're so right. We can wallow in self-pity, longing, dreaming for something more, for so long until we finally realize that what we have and even what we don't have isn't enough to fulfill. God's purpose and His will is the only thing that is fulfilling, whatever that may be for each of us.

I'm always so grateful for your honesty. Thanks for reminding me of this. (And for me, it's not about babies...though all my married friends keep having them, but it's about marriage. I'm tired of wondering, waiting, for Mr. Right! But I have enough...my life is good. I have to be thankful. )

Thanks so much Shauna!
Praying for the day when you can post about being pregnant or adopting babies or whatever God has in store for you!

[Ashley]

Shauna - your honesty and transparency is one of the things that has always compelled me to your writing. You speak right to the heart and say the things that many are afraid to, which allows so many to be reached that wouldn't be otherwise. Thank you.

[Abby]

I made the mistake of reading this before going into a store. Now I'll be taking a few moments to clean-up the mascara from my cheeks. I love you. My heart breaks for you. I hate that I can't fix it. Praying that you would have abundance and not just enough.

[cakw@comcast.net]

Thanks for sharing Shauna - My daughter over a year ago had a bi-molar pregnancy and lost her little girl at 16 weeks - It was a very hard road for her as this was her first and it took months for her body to regulate back to normal. She was right where you are today with the sadness of others having children and not understanding why her world fell apart. I am happy to say that she is now pregnant again and is in her 11th week (still very early). She is so nervous that something is going to go wrong again. I am going to share your post with her so she can realize that she is not alone with her feelings. As you said, God has a plan for each of us. He knows more than we know; he sees what we can’t, and he’s weaving a future that we can’t even imagine from where we are. God bless you! Cecelia

[lindsey]

I think this should be a chapter in one of your next books. So raw and relatable. My body is more messed up than it was before my daughter was born. But she is a miracle - it's a miracle that I have a baby at all. But I do want another, yet my body seems to be rejecting the idea. Thank you for sharing your post. I, too, know personally know 11 friends who are pregnant. And they are all stories of "we weren't planning it" or "it happened on our first try!" It can be very difficult to not be jealous.

[bex]

Wow. Shauna. This is a powerful, personal and significant post. I printed it off and put in my journal, for reference when I hit that point of "I'll just be happy when...". Thank you for opening your heart to us and gifting so many women, including me, with your writing on a reality we live with daily, monthly, yearly. I can empathize with you and I'm sorry for your heartbreak.

[Ali @thecoffeeqween]

This is my first time reading your blog- it was retweeted by someone I follow on Twitter. I'm glad they did because I lobed this post. Whether you have been trying a long time or just starting the craziness of baby making and the desire to have it all cam consume all of us on many levels. I'm glad you found a place where you can be happy for others. My first miscarriage was after having 2 kids and I didn't understand and knew I had done something. Sometimes it is what it is an we have to be happy in the present to receive happiness in the future.

[diane]

The way that you view skinny people is the way that I view people who are married. I think that they already have it all! And I want to say as much but I never do. I long for marriage the way that married women long for babies. And it turns out that getting married (finding the right man this late in life) is apparently as difficult as getting pregnant.
It's hard for me to realize that this has to be enough - that me coming home to an empty home each day is enough - or that this is ALL that God has planned for me when my vision is so much bigger.

I used to be the "Magic Married Pill" meaning, if you knew me then you'd probably meet your mate soon and get married. This happened to all of my college roommates and all of my good friends. I am now the last single person I know at age 37. It really really sucks. Each January brings new hope that THIS year will be the year that I fall in love and get married. And there's a good chance that having a husband will be the only family I have...I don't know if having children will be in my future and it really breaks my heart to think such things.

You aren't alone. Not at all.

[Michaeleen]

Adonai ro-iy lo echsar

I just learned that this summer. It is Hebrew for Psalm 23:1. The Lord is my sheperd, I am in need of nothing. Your post reminded me a lot of this. :) Thanks for always sharing

[Felicity]

This is a beautiful illustration of struggling well, fighting for peace. I love it.

[Leigh @HopefulLeigh]

Thank you for sharing this, Shauna. I have a record number of pregnant and engaged people in my life right now. I just celebrated my birthday and the nagging thought is that I'm another year older without having met Mr. Right. I don't want that to be my focus, for all of my thoughts to come back to what I'm lacking.

"that terrible territory where you can’t be happy unless you have just that thing you want, no matter what else you have." I definitely don't want to stay in that terrible territory. Perhaps by being conscientious of it, I will find myself reacting in another way over time.

[Lisa]

beautifully written Shauna. The lives you touch are too many to count.

[Lora L.]

You know as well as I do that God has a plan. It will happen for you when it is meant to be. You have so much to offer to others. Maybe this is your
time to watch the others around you and nurture those around you (pregnant women and their babies!). I'm sure soon we will read of your "happy news". In the mean time, savor all the wonderful things around you. I heard you speak in San Diego and an almost finished with Bittersweet. You have taken the words right out of my heart. I can relate to you on so many levels. I'm turning fifty (Ugghh) this month. I have learned that we all have a plan. What is meant to be, will be. I have a special place with you. My birthday is 1/31. Maybe that's why I feel so connected with you. Have a wonderful day!

[moosh in indy.]

I still remember when I had my enough moment. I was photographing my best friend giving birth to her third child and as soon as she held him, this peace washed over me as if to say "if this never happens again...it's okay." And that feeling stayed. Yes there were a few eye rolls here and there but when you know a pain so raw and deep one can't help to feel phantom pains.
I delighted in pregnancies...I delighted in my daughter...I delighted in the life I have ahead of me and the talents and gifts I possess that would help me move forward. I was needed for a different purpose for a time and space in my life. And once I settled down into it, accepted it, I found more meaning than I would have ever hoped.

This is horribly elegant. Thank you for writing it. I felt, and know every word of it.

[Sheila J]

Shauna, you are such a gifted writer, my chest feels tight after reading this post. Anxious. But then the last paragraph is so so right, for lack of a better word. My husband and I laid in bed just last night talking around and around about the big puzzle that God is putting together in our lives...how when we are trying so hard to jam a piece in where it doesn't belong, and then later we see how that perfect piece God had in mind fit just perfectly causing us to find yet another piece to go in beside it. Gods jumbo gazillion piece puzzle of our lives is perfectly complex and never on this earth will we be able to put it all together. We just need to trust that each piece will lead to the next....Blessings to you.

[erin]

thank you for sharing this.
although i'm not wishing for a baby, i'm wishing for a husband so i could have a baby after that and my current world feels full of happy families and new babies and engagements and showers.
i'm with you in the feelings, and i thank you for your words. your writing is an encouragement!