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Friday, December 18, 2015

Three

It's been awhile.

Lately I feel at a loss for words to say much here. I suppose that's how this goes, three years out. The thoughts and feelings are still there, but they're sort of muted. In the background. Weaving their way into my own existence. 

I've felt the need to get words out, but so often, nothing comes. Or I'm too exhausted to get anything out. 

This year has been...wonderful. Lena just turned two and she is the light of our lives. She's so smart and turning into a little girl. She's not a baby anymore. 

Which is good, because in March, we'll have another baby. (We will. This time around, I'm not wasting my breath with maybes or hopefullys...Maybe I've gained some confidence?) 

I never imagined having three children. It was never something I wanted for myself. But this is where life has taken me. Carry three children, just to raise two of them. 

We found out we were pregnant in July. Right as we we'd closed on our new house and were in the process of packing and moving. It was also the busiest time of year for me at work. So why not add pregnancy into the mix? I was so surprised and relieved, truthfully. Relieved that we'd get to have another child. That Lena would be able to have a sibling. Relieved to get this show on the road. 

If there's anything I've learned...it's that time doesn't wait for you. It's been almost four years since we found out we were pregnant with Luke, and yet we only have one child to show for it. At 36, I'm feeling my age with this pregnancy, and I knew that was going to happen. 

I feel every bit of it. Physically. Mentally. 

This is baby #3 for me. For us. I wish that was visible from the outside, because my insides feel so old. They've carried two 9+ pound babies. And this one's on her way to being the third. My pelvis and back are shot. 

I know this is it for us. And I'm so relieved that I know that. 

But then there's the finality. I suppose everyone who has children reaches this finality at some point, but it's different for us. 

Lena is going to have a little sister. And it turns out that this time around, all I wanted was a boy. 

It complicates things, having lost Luke. We had a boy. We don't anymore. And now he'll be our only boy. And I'll never have gotten the chance to raise him.  Or any boy, for that matter. 

The news of this baby's sex was hard to digest. I was so happy for Lena. She'll get to grow up with a sister. Growing up with my sister, all I ever wanted was two daughters who could be sisters like us. And maybe had none of this ever happened, I would still feel the same way. I don't know. But now I feel robbed. Again. The secondary losses are always there. Not only did I lose Luke, but I've now also lost the possibility of being the Mom of a boy. I mean...I AM a Mom of a boy. But not the way that I wanted to be. Happy for Lena, and so, so, so sad for me. And Jeff.

I know it would never be fair. I keep trying to finish this entry and the tears come every time. It's not fair that I feel like this about my children. Like I can never win. When in reality, I win because I'm their Mom. But losing Luke will just...never be fair.

With Lena, I was relieved she was a girl. I wanted things to be different. I wanted everything to be different so I could get through. This time around, I felt stronger. More confident. That I could handle this pregnancy with a boy.

But a boy was not to be for us, apparently.

I'm ok. When we found this out around Halloween, I'll admit, I was a mess. I've had about a month and a half to let it sink in now, and I'm starting to feel better. I WANT to be excited about this little girl. About Lena getting a little sister. That I get to use all of the clothes that Lena hardly wore because she grew so damn fast. All of that is so, so, so good.

But I still feel guilty. For wishing Luke was a girl. For wishing this girl was a boy. It's a stupid bargaining game that can never be won. All of the wishes in the world can't bring him back. And that's really the only wish I'd ever want granted anyway.

So here we are. Three-ish months from meeting this one. I feel so worn out. So tired. So drained. But this is the home stretch, and even though I know these feelings are hard now, meeting this little girl will begin a new phase of grief. A different phase.

And life will keep moving forward.