This week marks a few significant dates… most happy, one not quite so – but no less important.
* my significant other has reached an important and impressive professional milestone
* our 7th wedding anniversary, and
* our second baby’s due date.
Okay, so “technically” it would be our “fifth” baby, but that’s neither here nor there. I would have been due this week, but I guess our angel decided that this was not the right time for us.
I had almost successfully pushed this anniversary aside, until the other day when my son mentioned something (spookily insightful) about babies. He’s a clever cookie, this kid, with an amazingly tender heart.
So, I’m now asking my angel babies… when am I going to be able to hold you? To bring you home with me, in my arms – not just in my heart? To introduce you to the big brother who so desperately wants to meet you? To tell you how much you are wanted, how much you are loved?
There are no tears this time… just an tense ache in my throat, and a deep, yearning anguish that has diminished a little over time, but is ever-present.