Longing, originally written November 11th, 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

I'm keenly aware that I don't just want a baby. I know. I know. That sounds... strange. But it's true. I want a baby and pregnancy. I want to experience pregnancy. The morning sickness. The round belly. The I-feel-like-a-beached-whale moments. I want it all. And I want a baby.

It's the experience I want almost as much as the baby itself.

It's a lot to ask for because it's not guaranteed in life that I will ever get to experience it. There are no guarantees. Oh, but how desperately I long for it. It's such a surreal idea to me. To carry a baby inside of you.

Both of my miscarriages happened so early, before I had visibly gained any weight. Before a heartbeat was heard. Before a baby bump emerged. Before it felt like anything was really even in there. Pregnancy, thus far, has felt more like a concept to me. When you're pregnant but show no signs, it's an idea.  I want to feel pregnancy. I want to feel my body change. I want to grow a baby.

Please God. Bless me with a baby.

I've been finding myself more drawn to writing lately. Maybe it's because the surgery has given me renewed hope.  Maybe it's because I feel like I've been given a clean slate to try again. A do-over. Or maybe it's because I can sense a change coming soon and I want to document all of my emotions while I still have them. To really feel and remember them. To honor this part of my life. These struggles, which one day, I hope, will feel long gone and like far away memories. How quickly things can change with just two pink lines.

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