Torn

What a strange and yet still blessed season this December seems to be.

Though I am grateful for reasons to smile and savor the Christmas spirit, I catch myself down and low and green with envy every time I think about the unabashed joy that fills so many homes this holiday season. It seems almost every woman I know will either be snuggling a new baby, nearing the end of a peaceful pregnancy or happily looking down the road a few months to the miracle that is to come. I want that joy in the form of two look-a-like boys all my own. The pull between I cannot look at another smiling pregnant pal and This is Christmas and I am going to share it with the people I love leaves me torn and full of regret from one end or another.

Oh, for a happy medium. For answers that feel like they really are enough to explain the heartache. For the strength to think of Christ's birth without the hollow heart that follows as I feel the weight of empty arms. Each swell of gratitude leaves me noticing just how empty a full heart can yet be. I sincerely want to be grateful and happy. I am grateful and happy, but...

All I want for Christmas is the impossible, but I'd settle for peace.