I should have my hands full with Haven, big and pregnant with our second baby. We had talked about getting pregnant again right away so our kids would be close in age and so I could be home with them for as much of their early lives as possible. Yet here I am, nearly two years from when I first became pregnant, three negative pregnancy tests in the bathroom garbage, laying on the couch listening to the silence. One baby in the ground and one...I don't know where.
I have been trusting God and choosing to believe that my time will come, but when months pass without another pregnancy, I feel like I am losing them again and again. When my period comes, it always feels so final. A friend of mine was talking about how stressful it can be to try and conceive and I felt like saying, "just imagine if both of your experiences with pregnancy ended in death." It's so hard to believe I will ever know the joy of parenthood.
As selfish as it is, I get anxious and angry when I think about the fact that some of my friends with babies Haven's age are probably already pregnant again and will have a second child before I bring home one living baby. I selfishly feel that it is my turn now. Anytime.
I miss my babies so much tonight. I miss the life I should have had.