July. It was the end of July when I posted last. I was hideously morning sick.
Can't-get-out-of-bed sick.
When-will-it-end sick.
Good-thing-I-want-a-baby sick.
Someday-I-will-do-more-than-stare-at-this-bucket sick.
I wish I were still sick.
Because I wish I were still pregnant.
There are no words to convey the joy I feel when I make the announcement that I am expecting another child. As there are no words to convey the sorrow when the pregnancy has ended too early and the longed-for, much wanted, much adored (already!) baby is gone. I carried our little girl for 17 weeks and then learned (via ultrasound results) that our baby had passed away.
Un-met. Un-cuddled. But loved all the same.
Flutter home, little butterfly. Loving arms send you back. And loving arms will receive you there.
