To the ones who are still waiting.

I wrote this a little over a year ago, and it's one of those posts that's always on my mind.  I always come back to it, try to tweak it, and see if I can think of something else to say.  Something more poignant or elegant, but nothing comes to mind.  So, here it is.  A piece of my heart, once again laid bare on the blog. 

...

To the ones who are still waiting,

I have not been able to stop thinking about you, my friends who are still waiting.

I thought of you when I felt anxious about my pregnancy, and the thought of your waiting reminded me to be grateful for my children, the one in my womb and the one in Heaven.

In the few brief months between Emmett and Ella, when I wasn't pregnant, but trying, I really thought of you.  I experienced just a sliver of what it's like to want something so badly, but not get it as soon as you wanted it.  Believe me, I do not want to make it sound like those three months are the same as a year, or ten years, or however long you've been waiting.  I just want you to know that I remembered you.

I don't pretend to know your pain.
I don't pretend to know exactly what it's like to wait and wonder.

I thought of you when I took those negative pregnancy tests and hurled them into the garbage.  I thought of how you must feel, to be ready for this part of life to begin, only to have your body tell you, "Not yet."

I just want you to know, you are not alone.

When I look at Ella, I think of all of the hoping and anxious prayers I offered up.  I don't know what it's like to go on a long journey like yours, but I do know what it's like to wonder.  I know you see the time going by on the clock and calendar, and you wonder.

When?
Now? 
Maybe?

I understand that part.  I understand the anxiety, the fatigue, and the hopelessness.  It was different for me, but it was there.

Please know, you are not alone.  My heart is with yours, and I can't wait to celebrate your children with you, however and whenever they arrive.  When people make thoughtless comments, or ask nosy questions, I hurt with you, and I brace myself for the onslaught of frustration that wells up.  I cannot and will not pretend to have the right words, other than to remind you: you are not alone in this journey.