Shauna Niequist wrote that there are two types of women – those who have cried in the bathroom, and those who haven’t. The essay refers to women who cry in the bathroom as those who are either crying because they are pregnant and didn’t want to be, or crying because they wanted to be pregnant but aren’t. Shauna describes her pain through multiple miscarriages and disappointing months of discovering that, once again, she was not pregnant.

Not only have I cried in the bathroom (my own as well as public restrooms), but I have also cried in the car, in church, in my classroom at school, at a one year old’s birthday party, on the college campus before meeting with a student, at restaurants and coffee shops, etc.

Last month, it was during a staff meeting as a gift card was presented to a teacher whose wife is about to have a baby.

I have begun to master the art of tilting my head back just so, in order to prevent having to sniffle, in hopes that gravity will take effect and the tears will go right back into those little ducts. Deep breath, think about something totally different, try to prevent drawing attention to myself because I just know that if someone asks me what’s wrong or even how I am doing this morning, I might lose it.

Which then happened that same morning. Our poor principal was the recipient of those tears.

I don’t want to be that girl who can’t celebrate in others’ joy. And just because I cry when I see other people getting to experience what I want, pregnancy and the birth of a healthy baby, I can still be genuinely excited for them. I think sadness and joy can co-exist.

I don’t want others to have to be sensitive around me. I really don’t feel like that’s necessary or even helpful. Real conversation is much more life-giving for me, and I crave relationships with people who don’t mind walking through the mess with me.

But there are certain days when I just get teary, and there’s not much that will make it better except to let it out.

It sounds unspiritual to say, but I am weary of this season. I am tired of waiting.

Lord, do you hear me? I am tired of the tears and the cramps and the disappointed hopes and the useless calculations of when a child might be born. Will you respond? Will you act? Will you quiet my heart and give me a glimpse of Your goodness and Your ability to sustain my weary heart?