February has been a funny month for the last few years - and as I prepare to face this week, knowing that it's the anniversary of my worst miscarriage; but equally knowing that the end of the month will bring about the anniversary of meeting our boy...I feel strange. I want to cry about what might have been, but that takes away from the joy of my boy.
Nothing takes away from what might have been, and time doesn't heal, it just helps you find ways to deal with it. Those babies were precious, as were all the others, but it is this miscarriage that I remember more than any other. Knowing that 5 years ago, I had hope of an entirely different ending to our story.
And yet... I can't imagine any other outcome. I love my boy, I can't think of how I could have loved a birth child more. He is our child, and whilst I wish for him that he had been able to have been brought up by his birth family; I'm glad he's ours.
And yet...I wonder what might have been, who those children would have grown to be. Whether they'd be tall and skinny like M, or shorter and chubbier like me. Would they have liked what we like, would we have cherished their joy of the world, of being outside. Would we have a girl who liked doing craft like me. Would we have a boy who wants to explore how the world works like M. Who would those children have been.
And yet... we are blessed beyond measure. Our boy, is such a boy. He loves being outside and will just run around with the joy of it. He is not afraid of anything (except us leaving him). He finds joy in each new day and each new experience. Everywhere he goes people smile, because he smiles. He is making me grow, because with him I have to be a better person.
And yet... sometimes when I am with my friends with the children born in the month before ours would have been, I wonder. Would their children be good friends with ours. Would they be experiencing everything new with them.
And yet... boy-o loves those children. If you ask him who his friends are... two out of the three (the ones he sees most often) are mentioned...always. Other friends vary, but he loves spending time with those children. He plays so well with them. Perhaps if they had been closer in age it would have been different.
And time passes. The pain becomes easier to absorb. The knowledge of our boy is great, and the shadows are fading. As those potential children become older... I lose sight of them more often. They become more ghost like... a presence rather than actual beings. But I can't forget them totally, they will always be there, waiting in the shadows.
Worrying is a Good Thing
9 hours ago