late term lament

written december 22, 3 days well past my due date..


the monitor is black
yet to be lit up
the baby wrap came in the mail,
it waits with empty wings.
the crib aches
the baby onesies lay flat
the freshly sewn quilt
with soft hues of blue waters
remain cold
having no little warm body to shield
not yet, at least.
the due date has come and gone
i’ve surrendered the time of his
arrival over and over
and he is still not here.
my mind and heart wander dangerously towards the edge-
is there something wrong?
has my body failed to do its job
in safely ushering this unborn child
into the world?
is he alive?
is he delayed?
what have I done
that this is my consequence.
this is a punishment?
i don’t know.
i can feel the sharp scraping of my pelvic bones 
against his small skull.
and yet he descends no further.
i get his heart beat checked weekly, and sure it beats
but my disheartened heart beats 
slower and slower..
why doesn’t he come?
everything in me aches for him
physically, spiritually, mentally,
i long to hold my son in my arms.
why does my hospital bag
lay there with its insides torn up,
mocking me? taunting me with what a fool i’ve been thinking
i would need it so soon.
i packed that bag well over 2 weeks ago.
the calls, the texts,
they flood in and i
have to meet them with no exciting news.
no progress.
my body sits dormant and useless,
it hasn’t helped at all in getting this child to come forth.
i guess that’s kind of harsh-it is an inn and babe rests just below the feeding trough
but that’s about it.
I get the occasional contraction
and I wait for the
groaning and wails of childbirth to escape my
own lips
but they mock me too.
hot showers and fragrant oils
comfort me no longer.
sound sleep is a distant memory.
how I ache for my son to arrive.
my fears, pains, and questions
speak louder and louder with each day
as I try and cling to what little quiet humble truth there is left.
it will not shout to try and prove itself.
it is not insecure or arrogant.
where is it, Father?
what is Your plan? Your will?
Your presence in all of this.
You hold me, do you not?
You hold him, do you not?
You hear my struggle. my wrestling. You are not afraid of it.
Take it, Jesus.
please give me an answer.
please intervene supernaturally.
part my waters.
lower the child into the birthing chamber.
protect him and shield him from sickness and disease.
allow him to arrive into my arms
quickly, safely, and smoothly.
mold and soften my heart to him,
so that it may burst with a Christ love, that is full and abundant
and far from fear and doubt.
please jesus.
my heart aches.
my body aches.
my soul aches.
please bring my son home,
to my aching arms.