I remember how pregnancy with my daughter felt like some kind of limbo. It felt strange. Some days I was eager to just keep her in there and go about life and have nothing change at all. Is that selfish? Then I started to wonder what she’d look like and act like. Will she have Kevin’s blue eyes and red hair, or will she have my darker features? Shouldn’t I be chomping at the bit to meet her? Of course I wanted to meet her. But I was still terrified. Of the pain. Of the change. Of the way our lives will be permanently different, how our relationship will be.
I wondered how to mourn the loss of us two while unconditionally celebrating the addition of us as three? I struggled with that for awhile. Feeling guilty over it, but wanting to be justified because of it. I thought about how the pain must be worth it if millions of superhuman ladies can did it every day. I thought, ‘what’s a few hours of pain for the rest of my life being a mother?’
We were in limbo; a transition.
We couldn’t go back, but we weren’t quite ready to step forward yet. We couldn’t really do anything but wander around preparing for something we couldn’t fully prepare for. Ironic, right? We felt helpless. We were powerless. It was out of our control and we were watching it from some kind of two way mirror. We couldn’t speed up time or rewind it. It was a state, a feeling, a huge transition.
I remember feeling really alone in that limbo phase. Like a million other mamas have never processed through these emotions before me, after me, with me. It’s is a funny place to temporarily live in. In between seasons. Full of uncertainty. Maybe discouraged, maybe hopeful, maybe scared, likely very unsure.
Reflecting today, nearly two years out from that particular limbo chapter, we find ourselves in a different, though not-pregnant-type limbo between seasons. Kind of just here…living. Growing and changing, but at the same time waiting. I’m grateful for how seasons in life shift and change, eb and flow. But I think oftentimes we forget that between those distinct seasons, there are periods of change and transition. Before and between the times we can sit comfortably in the times we feel that we have it all figured out, we walk through this foggy part.
I’m calling it limbo.
So whether you’re in it or a season of comfortable living, a period full of growing or hardship, I want to offer you some company; here in the limbo and uncertainty.
May it teach you something. May you grow, even if you don’t think it’s a season of growth. May you discover something about those around you and yourself. May you get a little more comfortable with the discomfort and the transitioning. Because even though it may be a temporary state, you may find you can learn some extraordinary things.