Existing between loving my life and hating it

There is nothing I love more than being a nanny. I love spending time with babies, cradling them all day long, hushing cries, rocking babies, and snuggling them while they sleep. Watching them figure out the world, learning to roll, babble; their growth is incredible. I love taking them on walks; they usually nap, but I love being able to get outside in the springtime. I love that when they nap, I can work on homework or scroll on my phone, that I am free to do what I want in the downtime. I love that I get paid to pretend to be a mom. I love that I get to get them dressed in the cutest little baby outfits and they have the cutest little sunglasses. 

I loathe coming home to an empty apartment. Never have I thought empty arms could feel so heavy and empty at the same time. I find myself swaying when talking to my friends, a habit from holding precious little babies all day long. I hate coming home to an apartment where I live alone, to a life where there is no husband or kids, where I am completely and utterly alone. 

Yes, I have my friends. But they aren't the love I am looking for, that I yearn for. I am trying to remember to trust in God's timing but it is the hardest thing to believe in when you are feeling hopeless. I see videos that remind me that God's timing is everything, of girls that never dated and then end up with a great guy, and I don't doubt the validity of those stories, if they see God in their lives in that way that is amazing and I believe it. But I can't help feeling like I am the exception. That God wouldn't do that for me. I don't believe those thoughts though. That's my doubt. Thats me not wanting to have hope, to get my hopes up to be let down.

Feeling down on myself and unheard, I had ChatGPT write these poems to help me feel seen and heard. 

“The Quiet After”

All day, I hold them—

Little limbs stretching, fists in the air,

Eyes still learning the shape of the world,

Heads resting soft in the crook of my arm.

Their breath is steady, their trust complete.

And I am their world, for a while.

I warm the bottles, hum lullabies,

Trace circles on tiny backs until sleep comes.

I sway to a rhythm older than time,

Rocking, humming, loving.

Their tears, their smiles, their small triumphs—

Each one is a gift I never expected.

I whisper to them as if they understand,

Tell them how loved they are,

Even if it’s only by me, for just today.

They won’t remember—

But I always will.

And then, the door creaks open.

Their real mother steps in, glowing, grateful.

I pass them over gently, smiling,

Always smiling.

I gather my bag, my coat,

Step out into the cooling air.

And drive home

To the quiet.

There are no soft cries here.

No blankets tossed on the couch,

No bottles in the sink,

No reason to speak in a hush.

Just stillness.

Just me.

I walk in circles for a while—

My arms still curled as if holding weight,

My ears straining for sounds that won’t come.

I sit where I would have held them,

And I miss them like something torn.

They’re not mine.

I know that.

But still—

The house is colder when they’re gone.

My chest aches with the shape of them.

And the hardest part of loving like this

Is leaving

When they don’t even know you were there.

“In the Waiting”

I’ve prayed in the quiet,
in rooms where the silence pressed in,
where my questions echoed louder
than any answers ever came.
I’ve whispered “I trust You”
with a voice that trembled,
with hands that shook
from holding on too long.

They say Your timing is perfect.
That You make all things beautiful
in their time.
But right now—
it feels like silence.
Like standing still in a world that moves
without me.

I’ve watched doors close
that I begged You to open.
I’ve smiled through shattered hopes,
called it “peace”
when it felt more like surrender
to a battle I don’t understand.

And still—
I wait.

Not because it’s easy.
Not because I don’t ache.
But because somewhere deeper than pain
is belief.
Belief that You are good,
even when the days stretch long.
That Your plan is better,
even when I can’t see the blueprint.

I ache for what hasn’t come yet.
For the promise still unopened.
For the dream You planted
but haven’t yet grown.
Some days, the waiting feels like breaking—
like hope hurts
more than letting go ever could.

But I won’t let go.
Even tired, I won’t.
Even weary, I’ll worship.
Even aching, I’ll trust.

Because You are still God
in the silence.
Still sovereign in the pause.
Still writing something beautiful
in the chapters I can’t see.

So I’ll keep praying
with my heart cracked open.
I’ll keep hoping
with tears in my eyes.
And when the waiting feels like a wilderness,
I’ll remember:
even here,
You are with me.

And I am never alone
in the waiting.

So here's me being unscripted and unwritten, being vulnerable and saying that there is both in my life right now. Both loving my job and the close friends I do have and struggling with the fact that I am so single it hurts, so deep in prayer begging for a guy to be my husband, to understand God's timing on it, trusting in him and being patient in the waiting, but the waiting is what makes things worth it right? It has to be worth it. My therapist and I are working on my confidence and ideas of relationships. I'm trusting in time, in being patient, and in God.

I feel like the song "The Prophecy" by Taylor Swift:

Pad around when I get home
I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope
A greater woman wouldn't beg
But I looked to the sky and said

Please I've been on my knees
Change the prophecy
Don't want money
Just someone who wants my company
Let it once be me
Who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo the prophecy? 

... 

And I sound like an infant
Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen
A greater woman stays cool
But I howl like a wolf at the moon
And I look unstable
Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table
A greater woman has faith

But even statues crumble if they're made to wait
I'm so afraid I sealed my fate
No sign of soulmates
I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige
Spending my last coin so someone will tell me it'll be okay

I don't know how she manages to write such master pieces, relating to exactly how I feel but she is a genius! 'I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope/but a greater woman wouldn't beg.' How else could I describe the type of woman I feel, between someone lesser and greater, Im not going to lose hope but I'm not below begging, yearning, and asking. Then the 'prayer' that is given, the begging, you can hear it in how she sings, all she wants is someone who wants her company, that it's never been her, no happy ending in sight. 

'And I sound like an infant', the same old cry, the same plea, repeating over and over until they finally get what they want. 

'Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen' feeling worthless, feeling hopeless, feeling like no one wants you, not pushed out of their life because you still have use when convenient. 

'Even statues crumble if they're made to wait.' This line is beautiful. Built to last the test of time, but time has been cruel to them, wind breaking away at the edges. Raining beating at it relentlessly. The analogy of time wearing someone down despite their best efforts.