This must be a self defense mechanism. After losing Thomas (and two other babies to miscarriage) and then trying to conceive again for the last 8 months, I'm starting to wonder if I even want another baby.
I should rephrase that...
I want another baby, I'm just getting really tired of trying to have one. I mean tired right to my very core. It's been nothing but sorrow, loss and unbearable heartache since we first decided to start a family back in July 2003. I'm getting tired of this agonizing limbo and wondering each month if we'll hit the fertility jackpot and wind up with a sticky pregnancy resulting in a take-home baby.
I want a baby, but I want our life back too.
I married My Beloved because I couldn't live without him. I loved him, not just his potential ability to impregnate me. We have a life together - one that, had he lived, would have carried on without Thomas once he grew up and went on to have a life of his own. I'm happy with "us" - I always have been. I would love if our little family included a child, but we're still a family and this house is still filled with love and laughter.
I'm just starting to feel like waiting for dreams to come true is a dangerous thing when it means putting your life on hold.
Everyone wants to know when we're going to get pregnant. Everyone is waiting for the announcement. Everyone wants a new member of the family. Everyone wants us to be happy. Everyone is waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting for the future to begin.
But our future is now. This is what we have - him and me. And lots of love.
I would love to have a baby. My arms still ache to hold another child of my own and they always will, but maybe I have to start focussing more on what I do have instead of what I wish I had.
The future can't make you happy - there's simply no way to know for sure what it will hold. We learned that the hard way almost a year ago.
I only know what I have now, and he's downstairs prepping brussels sprouts for dinner. He's everything I've always wanted and more, especially when you consider that he'll happily prep brussels sprouts without complaint. I mean c'mon, how can you ask for more than that?
If it's only ever him and me and our angels in heaven, I'm still pretty damn lucky.