Idealism in Reality

I have a confession to make: I think I am a bit of an idealist.

For example, I subscribe to seven magazines. Seven. No, those are not typos. I really do subscribe to seven magazines. In all fairness to me, four of them are gift subscriptions. The other three are crammed full of information I am certain I will need to know at some point.

I love getting them in the mail. I earmark the pages. I circle ideas. I even have a binder of Parenting ideas that I want to keep in mind. I scour these publications in hopes there will be some tidbit of information to make my life easier. Something that will change my life forever. I love the gift ideas I get in these magazines.  They would be so fun in a perfect world, one where you can give as generously as you would like. For example, one magazine suggested giving a $300 cashmere scarf to your girlfriends. Another had a cool Kate Spade iPad cover. I imagined myself handing them over to my gal pals, perfectly wrapped in brown paper and twine. They would open the gift and, "Gasp! You shouldn't have! But this goes perfect with the iPad you got me last year. You are so thoughtful!"

Headlines such as" Your Most Stylish Year Yet!”, "How to Raise a Grateful Kid", and "How to Know you’re Amazing in Bed" (I am not making that one up) pull me in as I continue my never-ending quest of "fabulous at everything-ness".

Once when I was little I decided that I would be married by the age of 23 years old. It seemed like a good number to me, the age of my parents when they got married. Wouldn't that be romantic? To be married at the same age as your parents? And you know what? I was married at the age of 23.

But idealism simply isn't working out for me.

This is tough for me to admit because I consider myself pretty grounded. Realistic, even. But as time goes by, and I am haunted by life's curveballs, I find myself shocked. Pouting. Whining to myself, "But that's not the way it was supposed to turn outtttttttttt."

I need a mute button.

Our original Baby Brann due date is quickly approaching. When we lost the little one, I found comfort in the expectation that by the time January 25th rolls around, I will surely be well into another pregnancy. Because that's the way it works, right? I imagined myself as one of those women who sits rocking in the baby's new room...thankful for the little life growing inside her...Finally at peace with the loss of the previous unborn child because without that loss, she wouldn't be expecting the perfect darling soon to arrive.

Well folks, it's December, and much to my chagrin, there is no little life inside me.

Let me explain the history behind my expectation for immediate pregnancy gratification:

Pearce was a total surprise for us. We weren't trying. In fact, we were in the beginning stages of international adoption. We began our adoption application in November 2007. December 2007 rolled around and presented us with a shocking, even terrifying New Year's Eve reality: we were going to be parents. In nine months.

Fast forward to 2010. Jimmy and I decided we wanted another little one. I got pregnant the first month we tried. When we miscarried in June, the doctor said to wait one month and try again. In August, I was pregnant again. Naturally, I was a bit over confident. I mean, I don't intend to brag here but I was feeling pretty darned good about my fertility. So...based on previous experiences one would assume another attempt to grow our family would be well under way. Naturally.

You would be wrong, my friends.

I am beginning to think that pregnancy and I don't have a healthy relationship right now. Each month I am pretty level-headed...until ovulation week. At that point I turn into a paranoid, calendar watching, neurotic as I monitor unmentionable things in hopes of bettering our chances of conception. Once that week passes, I count down the days until I can take a pregnancy test.

And can we just pause a moment to discuss the ridiculous price of pregnancy tests? I mean, I literally spend a small fortune on these things. What's worse? The fact that I essentially put $20 a month in the trash. For no good reason. Because I am not pregnant.

I consider myself pretty reasonable. I am for the most part, practical. But all that changes when you are trying to have a baby. (Well...that and romance. But that's another post.) Each month my Reason, Practicality, and $20 in pregnancy tests hold hands. They put on my red lipstick and walk right out the door. I always envied reasonable, practical people.

But I know my day will come. One day I will be the one wearing red lipstick and holding hands with my new friends Reason and Practicality. Because that's what happens when you get the desires of your heart. You become more reasonable, right? Probably not.

One desire of my heart that I must mention is someone I couldn't love more if I tried: Precious Pearce. This kiddo really is a doll. It's funny, but when I think about how he came to be, I have to smile at the Lord's cleverness. Here I have the dearest little man I could ever ask for, and I didn't even have to ask. The Lord just brought him to us unexpectedly.

He's fun and compassionate. He's healthy. He makes me laugh. He's bright and clever. He is beautiful. And he is real.

Maybe reality isn't so bad after all. :)