I just recently returned from visiting my new nephew. And it's only been a day or so since my return - and already the withdrawals are kicking in bad. These chipmunk cheeks have that "I'll-steal-your-heart" kind of effect on this auntie.

I get asked when my husband and I are going to have kids. Like, a lot now. It gets asked more than what we do for a living, I think. And if I'm being totally honest, the question has started to make me more and more uncomfortable with each passing year - you can practically see the neon-flashing sign across my forehead that brightly lights "AWKWARD" for all to see when this subject comes up. My skills at operating in avoidance mode have reached pro-status - I really should get award for it.

I write this openly not because I'm anywhere closer to the answer, but more so as perhaps a therapy of some sort, to at least get used to talking about it openly without being paralyzed by fear that I'll never know what to decide. I am very career-driven, still have a lot I wish to do and accomplish, love a neat house, and quite frankly, internally freak out at the thought of driving a mini-van.

I even fear what it will look like when my beloved dog won't get as much attention the baby. #let'skeepitreal #don'tjudgeme

I often talk to God about everything because I know He loves me entirely, but even on this subject, I have skillfully left it out of my prayers. Is it because I'm afraid of the answer? Or afraid of not even hearing the answer? Yes and heck yes. And yet, even in this cloud of confusion/don't-know yet state, I cling desperately to the small glimmer of hope that God is God and He is good and yes, His plan for me isn't horrible and I need to stop worrying. And sometimes a small glimmer of hope in God is all I need to start the journey of at least being able to openly discuss it.

To be continued...