I’m the planner mom.
You know the type. The one you love to hate.
The mom who works full-time and still has a clean house, dresses her child in perfect outfits with matching accessories, makes healthy (and fun) lunches during the school year, plans Disney trips a year in advance, and throws over the top Pinterest birthday parties all the while saying, “it really is not that hard to do”.
Just call me the Olivia Pope of the playground, because, most days, I have it all handled.
I know, I know. Sometimes planner moms can be intimidating and, honestly, we do not even mean to be. Our ability to manage is the best “tool” we have in our shed, but it can also be our biggest weakness. When you are used to planning life you begin to think you are actually in control.
My husband and I conceived our first child with ease. We shocked everyone when a month after gushing that we “were trying” for a baby, we announced he or she would be here the very month we wanted them to arrive (see, I am telling you, I plan everything). While my pregnancy was difficult and I needed a C-section after our child was breech, I was able to stay at home and the first year of being a family of three went by nicely. Around our daughter’s first birthday my husband and I decided to try for a second baby. This baby would be our last, we said, and we would make jokes about how we hoped it was a boy and even picked a day for our repeat C-section before conceiving. Looking back, we were blissfully blasé about it all. Because our daughter had been so planned, it seemed normal for us to expect the same from this child.
Again, we conceived the first month and told everyone right away. When I got the positive test, my husband and I literally jumped for joy. We were so excited to be starting our “last” pregnancy. I began buying items off of a registry and was stacking our office with items for the baby we were sure was on his or her way.
We hired a babysitter for the morning of my 10-week ultrasound with the intention of getting a celebratory lunch afterwards. When the doctor told us there was no heartbeat and the baby had passed a week earlier, our entire world shifted. Suddenly, I was not in control. The baby I had dreamed of riding in the wagon opposite our daughter was not coming. The baby items needed to be returned. We were not going to be a family of four.
It’s amazing how little time it actually takes for your entire world to collapse on itself.
I would be lying if I said my journey after my miscarriage was easy. If I said realizing that I am not in control of things was easy. If I said letting go of the reality I had imagined for this baby was easy. It wasn’t. It was pure hell for a long time. It has been over two years since that day in the doctor’s office, and there are still times when it is hard to try to think about moving forward. When it comes to family planning, I now feel like lightning could strike at any time. I pray, I give it to God, and I find peace in knowing He has our fourth person in mind and will bring him or her to us at the perfect time. It was incredibly hard letting go of the reins in this area and daily I try to take the reigns back, but then I remember that no matter how perfectly I plan things, I cannot plan for life.
I am not in control, and that is good. I do not know how things will turn out for my family, and that is great. Not knowing is actually freeing me up to just enjoy the ride of life.
While my heart aches for that child daily, I now rest in God’s timing for my family instead of my own. Sure, I make plans still. My fundamental being has not been changed, but when it comes to another baby, I am okay with letting Him be Olivia Pope. He can “handle” it, and I’ll sit back and be amazed at how perfectly He does.
Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
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