A bit of awkward remembrance

It is funny how time really does change a person. Three years ago today I was recovering from one heck of a St Patrick's day hangover. Four years ago...same thing. And today, I am merely recovering from a bad case of the flu. Being sick sucks regardless of the circumstances.

I had a dream last night that I was pregnant, and that Tyler proposed. I was happy in my dream. I have always wanted to have another baby, and I am really wondering if my last pregnancy, my ectopic, may have sealed the deal so to speak. I am beginning to think that I am unable to conceive again. We have not "tried" or "not-tried" for well over two years. I have had a few scares, or near misses, but never have actually had that positive sign appear even weeks after I missed my cycle. Maybe it just was not meant to be.

I wish that I could get some kind of answers from God, not just hints. I know that if I am to completely fulfill His dreams for me, than I need to follow my heart. I need to listen to what God tells me. Is he telling me that I am done having children, or is that the Devil giving me doubt? I know that I can, and do, love other people's children as much as I love my own, but it is a different kind of love. Deep nonetheless.

I do not really feel lost, I do not feel ashamed, I do not feel hindered in any way...but I am feeling a bit discouraged. Deep down, I DO want another baby. I suppose if I am anything like Sarah/Sarai I will be an old woman before I give birth again, God willing. Then again, I did get one opportunity, which is something that many women never get. So for that I am grateful. Eternally.

With all of this aside, I think of my babies often. I wish that my family would recognize each of them how they recognize my nephew. I understand, they got to hold him, kiss him, and physically see him. My babies, were lost before they were big enough to be held...so they have been forgotten...by everyone, except for me. When I talk about my pregnancies, I get dismissed. Almost as it is too uncomfortable to talk about. Because to them, they were not actually babies. To me, they were.