Anything is possible

I want a baby. I do. Bad.

It's life-affirming and a relief to want this as much as I want air in my lungs and ground beneath my feet. Since my sixth miscarriage one year ago, I thought I would never feel this way again. It's also terrifying to want something so much. It's vulnerable. I'm vulnerable. I am so grateful for the life I have, and yet I'm putting out to the world that there is this thing I want. It's scary to do so, because I realize I may not get it.

This isn't like wanting a raise or a really good hamburger. This is my life. My family. My Dream.

I want to feel a baby kicking my ribs.

I want the baby shower my co-workers are throwing next week to be for me.

I want to argue about baby names with my husband.

I want to hear my son talk about what he's going to teach the baby.

I want to kiss the top of a newborn's head, count fingers and toes.

I want to nurse.

I want to rock a baby to sleep.

I want to buy little clothes and tiny socks.

I want to negotiate with my husband where to put the bassinet.

All I can do is try again, and then hold my breath.

Maybe if I get weekly acupuncture treatments.

Maybe if I give up decaf coffee.

Maybe if I take extra vitamins.

Maybe if I eat only organic food.

Maybe if I take extra thyroid medication.

Maybe if I take progesterone.

Maybe if I do yoga every day instead of once a week.

Maybe if I meditate.

Maybe if I just think positive thoughts.

Maybe if I don't think about anything at all.

Maybe if I don't clean out the litter box.

Maybe if I pray.

Maybe if I don't want it so badly.

Maybe if I want it badly enough.

I will choose to do these things. I will choose to do these things because I'm convinced that somehow, something will magically keep my baby alive. I will choose to do these things because I hope. Once you choose hope, anything is possible.