Aching Arms

Last night, while the boy was at AWANA, I was working on a project I needed to finish a month ago when I heard a couple of ladies chatting.  The youth were practicing in the sanctuary and I was hanging out in the foyer (narthex?).  I decided to step out of my comfort zone and join in the conversation or at least stand there and act like I know how to be sociable.  but it take some effort on my part to do that.

I walked in to hear them mention 'pitocin' and then one looked at me a moment later and said, "We were discussing horror stories." My reply, "I understand. I have my own."

The three - sometimes four - of us chatted a bit.  One of the ladies 5 month old was brought in and he was passed around as babies often are.  He is adorable with pudgy thighs, bright eyes and squeezable cheeks.  I was asked if I wanted to hold him.  Inside I was pleading for a chance to hold him. to feel his softness. smell his babiness.  carry his weight on my arms...

Alas, I declined.  I looked longingly at this amazing creation and declined. because I am too proud to cry in front of people I don't know.  because I didn't want the mom to think I was a bit imbalanced.  because he isn't my baby (who would have been 6 on 1/24)  because I was scared.  and I didn't want to cry.  I do NOT cry anymore!! (said with a foot stomp.)

my arms ached.  I hugged them to me to ease the ache - unsuccessfully. and i clung to my living breathing squirming 6 1/2 year old boy a bit harder and a bit longer than usual that night.  (oh - you did the math? the second is adopted...)