Alright, alright...

My family back home seems to have the "We know something's wrong" vibe going on.  And, as much as I hate to admit it because I would much rather deny it, crawl back into a hole and avoid it, and then (temporarily) get over it, they're right.  Something is wrong.  But, it's very personal.  It's my own personal emotion that no one can fix.

I have had these emotions for a long time, but they have magnified since September and then peaked when the clock struck midnight on New Year's.  The basic long story short is that *I* want another baby.  I have wanted a sibling for Ethan for years now.  We felt fortunate to only have Ethan when he battled leukemia and we felt that he deserved some "normal" life after treatment just dedicated to him.  Ever since, it just seems that we have hit road block after road block- Ethan not walking independently/Ethan not communicating much/money/job losses/insurance loss...

While things have definitely improved and we are blessed for sure, my desires are simply mine and mine alone.  My partner in life does not share my desire.  That is crushing. 

It breaks my heart that Ethan may never be a big brother.  It breaks my heart that I may never have grandchildren.  Selfishly, I want the opportunity to know what "normal" is.  And, time is ticking.

Ethan turns 10 this year.  Ten.Years.Old.  That's a significant number to me.  Double digits.  There was just always something about if we went 10 years without having another baby, it won't ever happen.  It's been ten years since I felt the first movement inside of me from that precious gift of mine.  I missed it the moment I gave birth, and I have missed it ever since.  Pregnancy is an amazing gift and treasure from God and I question why my desire has been made so strong if God knows it will never happen for me again. 

Of course, I can't see the future and I can't definitively say I will never have another baby, but at this point in time that future is not looking so bright.  Instead of shades, I need a flashlight.

In so many ways, I can almost understand infertility.  My heart breaks for all the families who have such a desire in their hearts to have a baby in their belly to love and nurture.  I try my best on most days to remind myself that there is a plan and that everything does happen for a reason, but some days it is just hard. 

We all have our good days and our bad.  These days for me were just bad.  I turned 34 on Sunday which means that I am now on the downward spiral to the almighty 35 and the label of Advanced Maternal Age, which also didn't help much.  I wanted to go to church, but couldn't stop crying.  I never left my bedroom on Sunday.  I did not answer calls.  I never opened my laptop.  I was blessed by the pinging of hundreds of Facebook birthday messages to my phone, and when I updated my status yesterday to say that those messages from family and friends brought sunshine to my day, I was being honest.  I love you all for loving me through my bad days. 

Trust that I am fine, I am just missing a part in my heart.