I hate it.

Never. Ever. Have I liked to wait.

But I find myself doing it all the time.

It never fails. If I am late for work, I will absolutely find myself waiting at EVERY. SINGLE. RED. LIGHT. On really long days after teaching six year olds, I STARE at the clock, watching that red minute hand slowly tick, waiting until the day is done and I can sit in my car with silence. When the night before left me with not enough sleep, my groggy eyes wait for my friend, the Keurig, to make my coffee. After my hair girl does her magic, I wait for it to magically turn blonde. (It of course is natural.) Then at the very end of the day, I wait impatiently for the shower water to turn blazing hot so I can wash the day away.

These things, aren’t hard. We just do it. It’s apart of life.

this post

, you know I recently had surgery to help me live with the pain of endometriosis. We did not have this surgery as a means to “get pregnant.” This surgery was an avenue for us to take to avoid medicine (which we are not totally opposed to, but we do like to try the natural routes first), and allow me to be a good mommy to my heartgrown babies (Selah and baby brother to come).

Can I be really honest with you? It’s hard to explain. I tried to explain it best in

this post

. But I can’t articulate exactly how my heart feels. And maybe it’s because I honestly don’t know exactly what my heart really feels.

But in my head, before the surgery, I just knew the doctor would get in there, remove all of the endometriosis, I wouldn’t have to go on medicine, and then God would heal me. We would, by a miracle, get pregnant a few months after brother comes home. God is big enough to do that. I know Him to be strong, powerful, and faithful. He can heal me.

Something different happened after the surgery. The doctor got in there, and found the endometriosis to be as bad as it possibly can be. Regardless of his best efforts, he could not get it all out without damaging other organ functions. Last Wednesday, he looked me in my tear-filled eyes and told me, “You will NEVER get pregnant without IVF, and you HAVE to take some type of medicine or you will have a hysterectomy in two years.”

We will not being doing IVF, because we aren’t trying to get pregnant. I will be taking some type of medicine that is contraceptive because we have tried all the natural routes. That’s not the point.

It was the hope. The hope of one day. And who likes to be told, once again, that their body doesn’t work the way it was intended to?

My precious husband (gah, I love that man!) was on shift at the same hospital. He met me downstairs, where EVERY pregnant woman in our city walked in and out of the lobby (why in the WORLD, do they put the infertility clinic and OB on the same floor???!!!!). My broken body collapsed in the familiarity of his strong arms, and he let me cry.

He isn’t a man of many words in situations like this, and is so intentional about what he says. But when he does open his mouth, wise goodness seeps out, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

Melt my heart, “Yes!”

There’s another kind of waiting, too. The achy kind.

The waiting in-between treatments. Those two weeks are MISERABLE, aren’t they????!!!! The whole time you wonder, “Am I a mommy and I just don’t know it?” Then there’s the waiting for those pink lines…utter TORTURE!!!! It’s the achy kind, that hurts real deep, to the very depths of your soul.

Then there’s the waiting to be approved by your agency. The waiting for a birth mom to choose you. The achy kind of waiting, when you do get chosen, and your waiting, wondering if she will really place the child in your family, or choose to parent. There is the ache of going into that nursery, and rocking in that chair every.single.night. Praying. Crying. Aching. Hoping soon to be a mommy.

It hurts. And honestly, with all the waiting I’ve done in my life, the achy kind might just take the cake. It’s hard. And lonely. And you feel forgotten.

But all of these types of waiting have made me the wife, the mommy, the daughter, the friend, that I am today. This waiting, has made me hungry for more of Him. It’s made me realize my desperate need for Him every, single, achy second. And He has used all of this waiting, to usher me into His presence and know Him more. Know the cadence of His heartbeat, and the rhythm of His breathing. Really know Him.

So… our

birth mom

can go into labor at any second. And we’re anxiously waiting on “the call.” Seriously. Any second, our son could be born. And the waiting…it’s killing me.

But even in this waiting, the excited-nervous kind, God has something to teach me about Him. There is a side to Him that He wants me to know.

And I don’t want to rush this waiting, because I don’t want to miss Him.

I don’t want to miss a single second of knowing Him better. Deeper. More intimately.

And that’s what waiting does.



is good to those who

wait for him,

to the soul who seeks him.


It is good that one should wait quietly

for the salvation of the



Lamentations 3: 25-26 ESV

Waiting is good. It doesn’t feel good. It’s annoying, hard, and sometimes achy. But it’s good.

Dig your heels in, sweet friend.

And wait.

Because really, He’s the One waiting. He’s waiting on you and waiting on me, to know Him deeper.

Let’s find Him here, in our waiting.