I am not you

I'm going to confess something that a nice Christian girl should perhaps keep to herself: I am struggling with sin. My sin of choice? Jealousy. Big, green, ugly jealousy.  I'm not jealous of your fancy SUV's or your four bedroom houses. I'm not jealous of your Starbucks runs or your clothing budget or any of that.
I'm jealous of your big families.
I want one so much it hurts.
But God's been using my pain to teach me something amazing. I am not you. I am not meant to be you, I never was. It's really hard for me to have babies and we may never have more and it doesn't make me any less valuable, any less of a mother just because I can't have six kids. A mother is a mother, no matter how many kids she has given birth to.
What makes me a mother is the love I have for my sons. The fact that I would give my life for theirs in a second, without hesitation. What makes me a mother is a million little things, a million choices I must make each day to put these boys before myself.
But the jealousy thing. Here's my problem. As a follower of Christ, I believe with all my heart that God chooses family size, and God is in control, ultimately. Pretty much everyone I hang out with has a big family, or is working on having one. I can't compete. I want a quiver full just like you do. But sometimes God's answer to my prayers is different from his answer to yours.
I'm not going to tie this post up with some Christian cliche, because I'm not sure they help. I'll just say this. I'm grateful that even when I don't know, even when I have zero control over the future here, God is still good. I am not you. And I guess it's okay.