Esther

You know when you cry, you recognize the sounds you make? You get used to a certain pattern or rhythm. You are not frightened by the wheezes or moans because they are all expected. Until now. I found myself crying in a way that I didn't recognize, the heartache was deep and was newly exposed. It was buried under excuses, putting it aside and just plain not dealing with it. This new ache that I have exposed, and to some degree felt opened without permission, is the ache of not having any more children. Even deeper than that, it is a heart shaped void that is called Esther.

Esther is the name that I had picked out six and a half years ago if I was to ever have a little girl. Her full name was to be, Esther Dorothy Marie. It is a combination of Kendal's Grandma on his Mom's side, and My grandma on my Mom's side. Marie runs in the family as well, it belongs to, My Mother-in-Law and her mother, My Grandma (on my mom's side), both my sister-in-law's on Kendal's side and my middle name. It carries familiarity and welcomes such a precious female into the club.

(Excuse the information if it gets too personal for you, but it is just a part of the story that I need to tell.)

Before Abram was born, we had decided, that he would be our last. For every reason in the book, we just couldn't have another. We have discussed permanent birth control by way of a vasectomy and agreed that that would be the way to go. The topic has come up a handful of times trying to figure out if the time is now to proceed in said procedure. My response has always been, "my heart just ins't ready." Fully knowing that in my head we just can't have another, but my heart can't seem to call it quits. Of course, I would never try and get pregnant, I just needed my heart to heal and resolve this issue in it's own time.

I can't tell you how many times I have stood in my shower (seems to be about the best place to talk to Jesus when your house is tiny and full) asking Him to heal my heart in this very personal area.

The topic of permanent birth control came up a couple of weeks ago and I found myself being angry because I thought that me saying, "my heart isn't ready" was enough to keep the topic at bay. My husband on the other hand is so ready for this season in life to be over and finding it frustrating that we just can't make this official, not fully understanding if I KNOW it's over, let's just finalize it.

After a counseling time, we came home and were "discussing" (angry eyes on) it and I finally broke open my heart in a way that I had never even heard myself do.

"You know when you have a little bit of hope, you can just keep going on?" My husband kindly responds with "yeah", "that is what I am hanging onto, that little bit of hope." "That little bit of hope that, if we don't finalize it, I can hang onto it a bit longer, until my heart heals or Jesus thinks we need another."

I had never told Kendal about this because I knew that it wouldn't matter, it wouldn't change his heart of mind on the subject and I was living in a place that I just didn't want to hear him say that these baby days are over. Please don't reinforce something that already hurts.

But there it was, out on the table, my heart, aching and facing what looks to be like, grief.

I will never know the joys of holding my very own little baby girl. I will never pass on what I know about baking, jewelry and looking pretty to my very own daughter. I will never help my daughter bride put on her wedding gown. All things in this house are boy and boy oriented. From movies, to video games, from blue walls, to hot wheels toys, it's all boy. I love my boys, but when it is time to wrestle, I find myself sitting on the couch or going to the other room because I just don't belong the way a daddy does. It's really hard to get excited about building construction sites when I would rather decorate Barbie's Dream House. These are all things that I face and for the most part roll off my back, but these last few weeks it has been harder to do.

The reality of not having another one, especially a little girl seems like more than I can handle emotionally, especially right now in life.

I believe one of the hardest things in all of this is the fact that I have to give up Esther Dorothy Marie. I can't hold a name that never really belonged to me. In my make-believe place, she was so adorable with her round little face, round little eyes and a little pixie haircut and she adored, me, her mommy. I don't know how I will give it up and what form it will take, but the void is deep and can only be filled by a gracious, loving God.

I don't recognize my wailing now when I ache over "her", they are deep and powerful. They are grief stricken. It may sound foolish to grieve something that has never been in existence, but it is here, and it is difficult and it hurts more than I thought it would.

These tears are for a daughter that I will never meet, but I have to trust that God can carry this burden too, so I heap it on Him. This new cry that is foreign to me, He recognizes, because He's already heard it before.