It's Okay to Cry

I sometimes think that our tears refresh our dusty spirits in much the same way that raindrops refresh living plants. . .I often forget that I don't have to be this rough & tough bad-ass (okay, I'm never that, but you know what I mean) and that it's perfectly acceptable to let my soft & gooey insides show up.  Thanks, Nikki, for giving me the stated permission to break down and cry out my heartbreak over my brother and my baby.  I've cried it out dozens of times previously and I imagine that I'll do it dozens of times more.

This week would have marked the 20th week of my pregnancy.  I would have been at the half-way point.  I would have known the baby's gender with reasonable certainty.  I would have already had the child's name known completely. . .I know that I've blogged about my baby's name, and it was a feminine name, but I did have a masculine name in the hopper - just in case.  I would have been counting down the next 20-weeks. . .waiting to meet the little one who would be my last baby.

I tell myself that I would have had the birth that I have always wanted; the birth that I was denied with my son.  Instead of waiting hours before seeing my sweet child, I tell myself that I would have been able to put this baby to my breast within minutes of the birth.  I tell myself that I'd never wish away the days, hours, and minutes of this child's infancy because I know now just how fleeting those moments truly are and I realize now how much you miss them when they are gone.

Of course, we all know that my baby died and that this darling and precious baby was expelled in the most spectacularly painful fashion that I could ever imagine.  I expect that I'll cry an ocean of tears this August. . .particularly around what would have been my estimated due date.  I don't really believe in astrology, but I do wonder how my lil' bull (my Taurus son) would have reacted to my little Leo lion.  He's so sweet and empathetic toward babies that I'm sure he'd make a wonderfully protective and loving big brother.

I adore my little boy and my love burns for him like the fire of a thousand suns.  I just would really, really, really like to give him the joy in life that only a sibling can offer.  I loved having an older sister and brother - absolutely loved it!  Once there were three. . .and now there are only two - my sister and myself.  But, growing up, my brother and sister were phenomenally wonderful and I'm so thankful that I wasn't an only child because my siblings were fantastic. 

I want to give my son a similar experience and biology seems to be stopping my efforts.  Indeed, my reproductive organs appear to be giving me a very pronounced "F-You!"  Next month will mark two-years of trying to conceive a sibling for my son.

I have the green-light to try again and, due to my age, I am not interested in wasting any time getting to it.  I'm sure some will think that I should completely mourn and process the grief associated with losing this last baby, but I just don't feel that I have that luxury of time.  It'll happen if it happens and, if it doesn't happen, I'm still so thankful for the beautiful boy that I already have.

And I'll remember that it's perfectly normal and natural to cry over babies who were never to be born.