Periodically during this process I feel like I am at a continuous self-help meeting.
“Hi, I’m Carrie…and I can’t wait to be a mom.” (Sidenote: #understatement)
For someone who has known pretty much her entire life that she wanted to be a mommy, this waiting game can sometimes be rough. As the eldest grandchild on both my paternal and maternal sides of the family and as a big sister to Scott , I always relished helping care for my younger cousins and brother. I knew that one day I would have a brood of my own. (Echo: One day, one day….).
And then I met Rob and knew that we would have little ginger-headed children of our own with heads the size of melons that would inevitable block the view of anyone sitting behind them at the movies and pretty blue eyes. We couldn’t wait…but nothing happened and, inevitably, we ended up with a pack of pups whose names all begin with the letter H. So we spoiled them with birthday parties (Hampton, our first born, now an angel, had the most elaborate parties that always included cat pinatas and treat bags for both human and canine guests), toys, Christmas presents, Easter baskets, and took them everywhere with us. They even have their own bag, almost like a diaper bag, dog-themed, that travels with us on our adventures that includes bottled water, treats, leashes and toys, in order for all of their needs to be met. Hayley, as a puppy, even helped grade presentations in one of my adult education classes. Hayley, Huck. Henley, and I can often be found on Thursday nights in the fall sitting in my SUV in the parking lot near the end zone at Demaree stadium, watching their Daddy coach his football games. If we can’t take them with us, we entrust their care to former students who double as family, most likely the aspiring vet student, Nolan, who watches them in the comfort of our home. That way their daily schedule, which includes sleeping on a couch or chair, eating, barking, doing their business, and more sleeping and barking, is not disrupted. They are our family. Precious cargo.
I have to admit though, it breaks my heart as I watch Huck sit in the grass next to the fence watching the kids next door play on their playset, Hayley snuggling up to a child, or Henley kissing a small child’s hand. They want what we want…more noise in the house. A crying baby who needs his or her diaper changed or a little laugh, as sweet as my nephew Grayson’s, would compliment all the woofs well.
I stay positive as I know that when it is meant to happen… it will. What is meant to be always finds its way. Sounds good, right? So I continue to keep busy with work, pursuing a second degree, chairing or participating in a charity events, spending time with family and friends, and marketing Rob and myself as parents.
But, alas, it isn’t always that easy. I am goal-driven and pride myself on accomplishing tasks. I achieve whatever I set my mind to do. When you work hard and dream big, anything is possible, right? Afterall, we are taught that we are charged with our own destiny. Unfortunately, becoming a mommy hasn’t proved as easy as achieving a goal, earning a degree, or raising funds for a charity.
Yet here I wait, patiently, ready and waiting, until the day I look into those beautiful eyes that will look much more like the angel who bestowed this gift upon us than my own, whose hair may or may not be ginger colored, and whose head, praise God, will most likely not obstruct the view of the person sitting behind them at the movies.
“Do you hear me Universe? God? Buddha? Cosmos? Dreams? Wishes? Hopes? I am ready!!!! Bring it on!”
I imagine all of them together conspiring; a plan is hatched. And they answer, “Yes, my child, you must be patient. What is meant to be always finds its way.”
