The kids run, they play, they laugh. I watch, I listen, I giggle.
Inside, I wonder: Will they be it for me? Is my body done?
I have no way to know. No fortune-teller reading my palm and telling me, with an honest conviction, what my future holds--kid, kids, and more kids.
My womb, it's empty. My heart, it's aching.
Have I tempted fate too much? When is too much? Two children, three miscarriages, what now? Do I stop? Do I wait? Do I hope?
Prayer. Sometimes I wish I could rely on God, but He has let me down. Too often. With the idea that if I do as He asks, certain blessings will follow. I did--still do--but I know the truth and can no longer be fooled. It is much easier to believe in a higher power in the Universe than to believe in a God that allows so much pain and hurt--not just in my life, in those around me, in those women and men's lives that I don't know around the world. The suffering of the children from hunger, abandonment, rape, and so much more.
I prayed my heart out. I had blessings--several. All pointed to something I thought I heard: I was doing the right thing and would soon be holding a healthy baby.
Wrong. Three times over.
But, in my heart, I want a baby--babies--still. The chaos, the messes, the crazy days are what I crave. I am in a better place, much more mentally and emotionally stable; however, when does it become over-kill (excuse the unintentional pun)? When does one stop? Miscarriages, pregnancies, all these things are not easy--on the body or the psyche. Is it worth it to drive me to the brink of insanity, a place in which I am teetering on the edge already?
A fortune-teller. That is what I need. With other things in my life--employment, school, and growing--I have at least a basic outline. I know things can change, on a whim, but those changes will be relatively expected. I do not know, unfortunately, what our family size will be; it is unrealistic, and a bit silly, to expect that I, of all the infertile women, will have the gift of a healthy pregnancy soon. See, there is a possibility that I will, but there is a possibility that I won't. And that is the truth, a place I would rather be than to misplace my expectations on a slim chance. I mean, I did tell myself that if I had a third miscarriage, I would not try anymore because the pain would be too intense for me to try again.
This is where I wish I could be okay with my two kids. I am happy with them, overjoyed that they are in our family; however, I can't shake the feeling that there is an empty space, empty spaces, that need filled. I want it to go away, beg that it will go away. Instead, I remember my dreams, my hopes, my desires, and those memories refuse to desist in haunting me.
Possibilities in life are endless, but sometimes I wish I could just know the outcome for one thing.
1 hour ago