Remember the sweet May Day basket I made with my kids way back on the first of May? This morning, I finally made the decision to retire the cone of now faded, crumbling flowers from the bulletin board in our kitchen. In some sort of silent testament, those sad flowers have reminded me every single day of these last two months of how happy and excited I was on that glorious afternoon. Newly and blissfully pregnant, I was absolutely overcome with the perfection of my life on that beautiful spring day. But sadly, unbeknownst to me at the time, it would be only three short days before the happy glow in which I'd been basking would fade to a cold, dark, and lonely shadow in which I found myself huddled in a heap of despair. I remain eternally grateful for the outpouring of love and concern we received in response to our loss, but there are still days, like today, when I wonder if I will ever feel as happy or as hopeful as I did two months ago. And...
I wonder if my abandoned container of decaffeinated coffee, untouched since May, will ever cease to evoke a sharp pang of longing and regret every time I open the cabinet door to retrieve a mug.
I wonder when I'll stop mentally calculating how many weeks along I "should" or "would" be.
I wonder when others joyful announcements of new pregnancies (for which I truly do give thanks to God!) will quit being accompanied by a shameful stab of envy.
I wonder, sometimes, whether I'll ever again know the joy of carrying another new life beneath my heart...and not just, forever, within my heart.