A lot of people ask when Joel and I are having kids, since we've been married for six years now. And I get it, I do. I've even made fun of myself for being childless. But guess what? I have some news for you.
Good: I'm pregnant.
Bad: The baby won't survive.
No, the doctor didn't tell me anything. (Except "take it easy".) It's just...every time I get pregnant, I miscarry. EVERY. TIME. It's like a stab with a knife when I see those two lines, or that ultrasound picture. Because I know Joel and I will never be able to hold her in our arms. And the pain...it gets too much at times. Especially when I'm lying in a hospital bed, crying from yet another loss.
I have a scrapbook titled "Angels", a place to remember my lost children. And I'm mentally preparing to place my fifth entry. I want to hope that this is the child I carry to full term, that this is the one Joely and I will raise…but I can't. I'm beyond that point. We're beyond that point.
And nobody knows.