Holding my Horses...

I'm kinda going crazy here.
Allow me to explain.
It has been a month since I saw a birth. Now while that may not seem so huge for you, it is VERY dramatic for me. I mean, it's pretty much like being a baker, but not being allowed to touch flour. Or being an engineer and never seeing blueprints. It's like being being a clown with no balloons. Like being a salesman with nothing to sell. Or like trying to be a Flamer with no flame.
Wait what??!!
What is a flamer anyways?
Let me tell you, I had the same question.
It was a Monday morning, and things were going as usual at the clinic. I was on prenatals that day, doing vitals, educating women about health, measuring fundal height, asking questions, and filling out forms. One woman came in with her paper work, and I couldn't help but notice that her husband was a flamer. A welder? A fireman? I began to ask questions.
Again and again she repeated herself and tried to explain. Suddenly, it dawned on me. In Visayan, F=P, vowels are a little wishy washy, and silly them, they don't have the wonderful silent 'p' we have in English. (note the dripping sarcasm). There it was. Flamer = Plumber. Clearly!

So back to the going crazy thing. I am surrounded by birth, pregnancy, and newborns. I take care of women at various points in their pregnancy. I work multiple shifts per week in a maternity clinic. I read about birth and pregnancy every chance I get. I give baby baths, and breathe through contractions with women, I clean up blood, amniotic fluid, and everything else that the body can excrete, and I sterilize and fold and stack and stock. Between my travels a few weeks back, and a series of slow birth room shifts, it has been a month since I actually witnessed a baby being born. So I'm holding my horses here. Trying to trust that these unanswered prayers are for a reason. Trying to be content in the ways I DO get to serve.
And waiting.
It's been a struggle, honestly. My friends are all far beyond me in experience, and I don't step foot inside the clinic without that yearning. My heart wants to question why 8 babies are born one morning, and that night, when I'm on shift, there are none. Sometimes I feel like asking God if He can hear me. Often my throat chokes up when we transport another woman to the hospital, or at the end of another uneventful shift. And though I'm happy with all my dear friends who are bubbling over with the joys of being part of new birth, sometimes I have to leave the room.
I have to speak to my heart.
Heart, I say, you must be content. You serve a God who IS GOOD. A God who hears and ANSWERS prayers. But you have given Him room to work as He sees fit. Now, my heart, rejoice in the Lord. Honor God for His great kindness toward you. The timing is not for you to know. This is what you must know: His faithfulness is everlasting. His mercies and justice are beyond our ability to comprehend.
So I'm trying to rest, and let God work.
I'm pretty sure my heart needs some fixing.