Weakness.

As I sit here, staring at a blank page, the words in my head plead with my fingers to type the very thoughts I am feeling. My fingers are hesitant to release them - more directly - maybe its me who's hesitant to admit their very existence.

Today my heart is heavy.

Tears fall from my eyes as I long for the ability to be as naive as I was not so long ago. Naive in the sense that pregnancy was something that was certain. My ideology of conception was based on a woman's desire to have a baby, which was fulfilled as quickly as she wished it. Nine months later there would be a precious, healthy, newborn bundle, wrapped in pink or blue ready for her to take home and love. It was that simple and that easy.

My nature didn't think of things such as miscarriage, chromosomal abnormalities, or neural tube defects. Healthy, child-bearing women of my age did not have these problems - or so my innocence would allow me to believe.

And then, suddenly and without warning, I enter the realm of 'you can't control it', and reality smacks me in the face.

I have a dear friend, who just found out today that she is in the process of miscarrying for the third time. She is my age. Healthy, child-bearing age.

I have another friend who has tried for years, exhausted all fertility options, and is still childless.

I, as you all are aware, am bearing my own burden of uncertainty (though we know that he will also be very much a blessing).

Take your prenatal vitamins - religiously - before you even think about getting pregnant. Don't take hot baths or eat deli meat. Avoid caffeine and cleaning supplies. Drink lots of water and don't forget to go for a nice walk. By doing all this, you and your baby will be just fine. At least this is what we are led to believe.

And how I wish it was as simple of a thing that could be condensed into a little "do and do not" list that would guarantee success.  But unfortunately, the real truth is, as hard as we try, we can't control it.

Before Little Brother, spina bifida was just something I learned about in my sophomore Introduction to Special Education course. It was something that, if the mother wasn't negligent and actually took her prenatal, didn't happen.

I have been taking a prenatal vitamin since before I was pregnant with Ellery. I haven't had but a drop of caffeine (admittedly, besides what is found in chocolate) in more than two years. I am a do-it-all-by-the-books type of pregnant woman. So, today, in the midst of sharing my friend's deep sorrow and continuing to acknowledge the intensity of my own journey, it is a hard concept for me to grasp, in the center of it all, that our God can be so, head-over-heels in love with us, and still let scary and sad things happen.

My faith is not wavering. I am still very much convinced that His plan is much bigger and better than my own. However, on occasion my humanity takes over, and I step back, look around and wonder that ever-present question: Why?

Why do these sorts of things happen to women who do everything right? What about the healthy babies born to those who do everything wrong? How does this happen?

And when my human heart starts to stray and think thoughts such as these, I hear a still, small whisper that says, 'because it is My will.'

God's will. His.Perfect.Will.

And that's where I rest. Where I need to rest, even when it seems impossible - like tonight. Without specific reasons, without direct answers. Just the reminder to be thankful for what we can not change, for in tough times we are reminded of our weakness.  And in our weakness, we are reminded of His strength.

May He hold me. You. Us.  

This is my prayer.