This was 'it'. At a routine appointment in week ten, the doctor discovered that my baby had died. I was numb and in denial. Life seemed cruel, and as I removed my name and said goodbye to the November list I tried hard to focus on the two miracles that I already had. Hugging my children was healing, I knew that without them the emptiness would have been overwhelming.
Dreams die hard.
That, and well, I'm stubborn. When I told my husband that I wanted to try once more he looked at me with astonishment and was flabbergasted that I'd put myself through it all again. I wanted to explain that it must be the smell of a newborn - all fresh, sweet, and powdery. Maybe it was really as simple as planting a kiss on what just had to be the sweetest head in the entire universe. Try as I might, words couldn't cover this primitive instinct I had to reproduce and mother just once more.