Waiting

I have many great traits.

I’d get tired if I wrote them all, but these are my favourite:

My spontaneity and creativity, throwing myself into the new and different, 

desperate for another crazy adventure.

My ridiculous organising skills, 

planning incredible and detailed events at the drop of a hat.

Combined, I’m a fireball of life and activity.

I’m also the least patient person I know.

My ever-increasing belly, shovelling sweets like the Oompa Loompas my husband so affectionately likened me to, weighed heavy on my frame, making me desperate for escape.

Desperate to end the nine months of puking

Of being restricted in my own skin

Of reluctantly slowing down my pace

 The messages piled in:

“Happy Due Date!!!! Any twinges ....???”

“no sign yet?! booooo xx”

Due day came and went…

“Where are these babies??????”

“Dear baby miller,

I am writing to officially give you an eviction notice. Please vacate your mothers womb by 12am this evening before the overdue cranky woman hormones go crazy ;) “

Everyday waiting for something…but yet nothing came, not even a hint…

“You not blown yet? Milking this whole pregnancy thing abit too much aren't you?”

“Ok, I'm done being patient for you!!! Go jogging or climb some stairs ... or ... OTHER things ... and get that baby moving! “

You were “done”?!

I was done.

Overdone.

Completely spent and exhausted from being patient.

Dogs and cats wait 60 days.

Rabbits wait 33 days.

Mice only wait 20 days.

Humans?

271 days.

Why forced to have so many bloated days?

What reason is there behind this torture?!

Texts of encouragement came in, but none spoke more strongly than this:

“These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance.

That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother.

We are enlarged in the waiting.

We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us.

But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, 

God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along.

 He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

God knew what he was doing from the very beginning.”

{Romans 8}

We wait

For that spouse that never comes

For that job promotion they say is just around the corner

For the day we will earn more

For that relationship to be fixed

For the house of our own

The morning the contractions started

Painfully waking me at 5am

Faithfully pulsing every 20 minutes

Five hours later

As my mum arrived panicked and scared of missing the birth

They remained still 20 minutes apart

My pudgy self bounced frustratingly on the exercise ball

Netflix choices blurred into mundane viewing

My time had come

Labour was imminent

But yet Father God was still calling me

In a place of patience

We wait

For the marriage proposal

For the big break into the industry

For the manager to appreciate our efforts

For the fertility treatment to work

For acceptance on a course

For healing

The sickness came back.

My “friend” vomit that had consumed each week of my pregnancy

Overwhelming took over my labour

Contractions ranged from 1 to 7 minute gaps

Each painfully convulsing my body

A disjointed 10pm walk to the hospital

A delusional time on gas & air

A two hour grueling stint in water

And there she was.

The words of the friend rang in my ear:

“Labour doesn’t matter once it’s stopped.”

Those things are coming.

Those dreams deep in our beings, with heartbeats and kicks and pains

Have life within them

They are cooking, developing, growing.

It may not be happening to you as quick as the dog

Or the cat

Or the mouse

As quick as your sister

Your friend

Everyone else

But it’s coming.

It was relayed to me, that I spoke these words to my precious Zella, 

as her wrinkled grey body lay wetly on my exhausted chest:

“I did this for you. I did this all for you.”

All the waiting

The agony

The stretching

The pushing

My reward, my prize, the end

Was truly worthy of the waiting

My heart has softened

My soul has learnt patience

My character has developed

Truly, I was enlarged in the waiting

Dear Baby Miller - part 2

Dear Baby Miller,

Sweet merciful Zeus, you are due tomorrow!!

And by due, Mummy means this is the expected day of arrival, marking exactly one year since Mummy and Daddy arrived back from America, and Mummy will probably ball her eyes out and be devastated if you don’t come on our special day.

Welcome to the world of Miller family pressure.

There’s so much Mummy feels she wants to impart to you, teach you, brainwash you with on your arrival, but this little letter contains one of the most important lessons you’ll need:

“Don’t take things on face value.”

Mummy is the one people usually meet first.

When Mummy enters a room, people know she has arrived. Her loudness prevails, alongside her over-friendliness and penchant for inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times.

Mummy is the crazy, charismatic, over-zealous one with a wooing tendency.

But wooing people only gets you so far.

People need consistency, character, faithfulness, and endurance.

They need sensitivity and understanding, and genuine love.

And that’s why we have this guy:

People make jokes about “pre-Mummy” Daddy:

Wild, curly hair, a wardrobe consisting entirely of baggy jeans/cargo shorts, red t-shirts and baseball caps.

Don’t get Mummy wrong; she is aware of the high standard of work. She single-handedly transformed Daddy from a vagabond band roadie to a professional looking hottie:

But the truth is, Daddy has done a deeper transformation on Mummy.

Teaching Mummy to listen.

Showing Mummy how issues can be dealt with without extreme confrontation.

Learning to enjoy the quiet.

Becoming more patient with people and their issues.

Truly putting Father God first and seeking after Him in everything.

Being someone of true integrity.

Genuinely loving others.

Not being afraid to trust and open up to people.

Every step of Mummy’s difficult pregnancy, Daddy has been there.

Supportingly taking Mummy’s hand to walk her everywhere.

Rushing from work to get to midwife and scan appointments.

Reassuring texts of love throughout the day.

Pulling back Mummy’s hair to puke in the mornings.

Bringing breakfast in bed when Mummy was too weak to go downstairs.

Waking in the middle of the night to readjust the duvet each time Mummy returned from the toilet.

Buying Mummy skittles, ginger beer, Chinese takeaway and anything else random she craved/whined about.

You are blessed for so many reasons, with an amazing family and so many people praying for you and eagerly awaiting your arrival; for the fact you have been so healthy so far; for the hand of God already showing itself upon your life providing for you in miraculous ways.

But Mummy weeps at how blessed you are by the amazing Father you have been given.
Because I know how powerful a thing that is a child’s life, and it will change the trajectory of your life.

Some people look and think that Mummy is the boss, the head of it all.

Like I said, don’t take things on face value.

The truth is, while Mummy has carried you, Daddy has carried Mummy.

See you tomorrow.

xxx

Right

This isn’t the right time.

Amidst a flailing of instruction reading and nervousness, we had taken the pregnancy test (as I tried not to pee on my hand), and it came up positive.

We’d only been back in the country four months.

Steve’s dad had only passed away two months before.

Steve had barely started his new teaching assistant job, and was in the process of applying for the extremely competitive and demanding Graduate Teaching Programme.

It wasn’t the right time.

Never mind that Steve and I have a nine year friendship, with a nearly four year marriage.

Great degrees, successful careers so far with plenty of hope for future prospects.

Spent years travelling and serving with a great Christian ministry.

Loving and supportive families excited for the latest member.

Amazing friends ecstatic at the new addition.

A lovely (rented) house with plenty of space.

It still wasn’t the right time.

I had been rejected from the Step Up to Social Work programme.

I was two days from the UCAS deadline for the Masters in Social Work.

I had applied for jobs and not heard back.

I was still working out my career.

That’s what I mean by “it wasn’t the right time.”

Nothing can prepare you for that overwhelming feeling

The pressure of that new life growing inside you

That will be totally dependent upon you

Rely on you for everything

Will look up to you

And you feel you have nothing to give.

Would my child understand all the ups and downs of changing countries, and changing careers? Would my child understand the fact I just got into retail again so I could have a job while Steve looked after his dad, and I tried to find something different but nothing seemed to open up, and then I found out about them, and it was harder to get another job, and risk losing substantial paid maternity leave

For the sake of a

Future career

Future pipedream

Would my child understand?

Do I really understand?

What is my worth found in?

The right career

The right title

The right view of me that I have built up, that I aim for, that I am seeking to have.

I crave that perfect life,

superwoman career mum,

that bakes organic,

giving 100% to marriage

to childcare

to cooking

to church

to hobbies and friends and socialising

and as my belly grows, aches with preparatory birthing pains

my spirit grows more in tune to Father’s whisper

you can’t have it all

so what do you want?

I have wanted motherhood

since spending summers building Playmobile families and homes around my room

since being oldest girl grandchild caring for all oxford cousins

since learning to read early and gathering nursery group for story time

since holding newborn baby brother in my teenage arms

since texas days surrounded by families babysitting for fun

yet shock of motherhood entering my house unexpectedly

made me forget all these things

forget that I have known for a year which nappies I want to use

forget that Steve and I hunted down random family in airport to see brand of their buggy

forget conversations spent learning about family dynamics to be prepared

forget heart racing moments and disappointment of previous pregnancy “scares”

forget burning desire in heart

to nurture

care

create that cute

ginger afro

competitive machine

the world so yearns for

yet is so not ready for

Baby Baby,

I was made ready for you

And your timing, Father, is just right.

Him & him

So yesterday caused much ruckus

Amongst dating and married couples alike

A hated target amongst other wives

As their husbands declared

They too wanted

A white metal object of joy

My heart delighted

Too much in the deceit

And sneakiness

Of months of secret saving

To provide the “whoop whoop bird”

Something to truly

Make a noise about

But my heart delighted too

In the sacrifice

Of me not being the front

For behind the camera

I, like you, merely watch

In wonder at another’s joy

Was sacrifice worth

Not having Fossil purse

Or lack of TOMS wedges

Was sacrifice worth

More of him and

Less of

me?

Is sacrifice worth making vow

To say I will submit

And follow you

Not rearing ugly domineering head

But letting you lead

Knowing you have my interest

Best interest

Safely in your heart?

And when others

Even royals

Omit obey

Is sacrifice worth

Being the only one

To take words

In humble pie

Willing to say

I don’t know it all

I am often wrong

Two minds

Better than one alone

I will listen

And follow you

And as this horizontal

Same level relationship

Grows

Seeking to lift the other

And not all about self

It spurs me on in my worship of

Him

The one that it matters most about.

The one whose ways I ultimately

Submit to

For they are higher than mine

Wiser than mine

Can we put ourselves aside

Casting down pride

Willing to be less

So that others may be more?

147

First comes love

Then come marriage

Then comes the baby in the baby carriage.

This is how we have been trained to see life.

A picture of a couple settled in holy matrimony,

making a planned decision to bring one or more children

into the world.

A baby is welcomed into the family

With a shower of

Gifts

Hugs

Words of encouragement for the first timer

The belly swells with joy

Pride

Because this is what they have been waiting for

This once traditional ordering is being played around with so much in society

So lets just mess around with it some more.

Lets throw another way into the mix.

A couple with several children open their home to foster children

Adopted children

Not with the usual baby shower

But a “Gotcha” day

And a step out into an unpredictable world.

One of a variety of emotions.

The multicultural smiles around the table,

remind them that this,

though a hard decision,

Is a beautiful one.

The children interact with love

This is what they have been waiting for.

While we are mixing with the non-traditional

Can I suggest something even more different?

A couple, married for a few years, think about a new arrival

Or two

Or three

Not of their own womb, but still to be

Their own

Surprising as they scan the internet, they see so many sibling groups

Twos

Threes

Fours

Even a few fives

What is their story the couple wonder?

Abandoned, abused, neglected, malnourished...

But the story doesn’t seem to matter

It’s the faces that matter.

The faces that say:

“Will you be our family

Forever?”

The hands that hold one another tight and say:

“Please, keep us all

together”

The eyes that don’t quite make contact as if to say:

“I don’t know if we can trust you

but

we want to”

The couple discover on their journey,

It’s not just the cute, little newborn that needs a home

It’s the bigger ones

Those “bigger” in age

Those “bigger” in emotional issues

Those “bigger” in developmental and mental health needs

Those “bigger” in grouping

When the world has 147 millions orphans

147 million individual lives

needing a home

a family

a mummy & a daddy

Why make another baby?

Why bring a life into this world,

when they are so many in need already?

Is it selfish to want a child that looks likes you

Sounds like you

Came from you

When there are so many who still need you?

What defines a child

Your child?

Is it that they came from you,

made with your DNA?

Or is the time that you spend with them

Developing them

Training them

Playing with them

Investing in them

and Loving them?

What makes a mum and a dad?

Is it merely genetics?

Or is it something else

Something more

Something greater

Steve and I step into a journey of working out

What are we called to?

Why is this becoming something that we grow passionate about?

When will we be parents?

Who will be our children?

Whether they come

From us

Or to us

They

We know

will be like us.