A family of four we were. We liked being a family of four, two girls and two boys. And then we dreamed one day of being a family of five. Oh yes, we shed tears of fear. Will Mama survive? Can we afford it? Where will we live? But we worked it out, actually it was easy. Everything just fell into place. It was meant to be.
But then it wasn't. Then our baby died. Our families heart broke. Right when we should have been bringing our baby girl home, we were attending her funeral. She never came home.
Our families heart broke.
That feeling of empty arms that I felt in the early weeks after Lola's death returns for a couple of days every month. I ache to hold our newborn baby, to breath in that heady, overwhelming smell of a newborn, to feel their cheek against mine and to look into their eyes. For the rest of the month I feel a consuming fear as to whether we should take that leap and try again. Or not.
A desperate need vs an overwhelming fear
My solution is to live in a fog for some of the time and not acknowledge any of this story or sometimes I throw caution to the wind. What will be, will be. Other times I live and breath this story and graffiti my life with it.