Most readers probably remember that I suffered a miscarriage earlier this year. If they don't, it's probably because they couldn't bear to read the things that I wrote while trying to process my heartbreak at losing a long-desired pregnancy. I can't say that I would blame anyone for skipping those posts. . .I wish I could just erase that part of my life and I certainly wouldn't want a spectator's seat to it. If you missed out and are interested, check out the posts I wrote in January and February to know what I'm writing about.
I realize that most children are not born exactly on their due date, but today was my baby's due date. I would have either had a newborn by now or I would have had one in the next two weeks or so. Of course, that wasn't to be and here I sit, just shy of 18-weeks pregnant with the one who I hope will be the final member of our family.
Losing that pregnancy resulted in a loss of innocence, an awareness that sometimes the most painfully cruel things can happen when least expected. Sometimes you really do get kicked when you're already down. Losing that baby also resulted in fostering a fierce love and gratitude, deeper than I ever knew possible, for my son who was born and for the baby currently living in my womb. I guess it's because I realize that they could have been, and I suppose still could be, taken from me at any moment.
I attempted to achieve pregnancy for so long and I now know that life is never promised, even where life once existed. In that mindset, I've tried so hard to think positive about this pregnancy and avoid complaining about any uncomfortable symptoms because I know that I'm lucky to have them at all. Some may say that I'm reallly not all that successful with either intention, but I really do try.
One day, one day far in the future, I fully expect to be able to finally hold my babies who were never born. And on that day, the holes in my heart will finally be filled.