The wound is slow to heal. Sometimes I wonder if it ever will heal. That big gaping emptiness in me- loss. The two children that were to be ours. Gone. The wound is slow to heal. Most days, I can bury, cover it up and go on with my life. I think I have been coping lately by unconsciously convincing myself that I really want my life as I have it now- extra spendable cash, free time, flexibility, my career and what it might become. I have been convincing myself that it might be hard to create space in that life for a family.
But one phone call, reminds me that that is just a facade. My best friend called tonight- she is 15 weeks pregnant. And I am reminded, as I sob on my husbands shoulder, that more than anything I want that. I want to create life with my husband who I love so much. I want to be able to share in the planning, and dreaming, and hoping for who this little one of ours will become. I want to fall in love all over again with him as he talks to our child, who is only a bunch of cells, and kisses my belly. I want to be able to go in for a 6 week u/s and be joyful and naive, not terrified.
.... I want to know how our story will end. I am so afraid that it won't end the way I want it to.
I am grateful for my friend's gentleness, I know it was hard, I know it was hard for her to tell me. She couldn't have been any gentler, but man, it still hurts to the deepest places in me. Tonight, I feel raw. Absolutely raw.