I often tell people that I'm so bad at being pregnant (honestly, I don't think I liked a single minute of it) that no more children are allowed to come out of my body. But, I love babies. So, the running joke among our friends is that I'm waiting for our "doorstep baby". You know, the way Barney and Betty got Bam-Bam?
The other day, as I was wondering why no one has left me a doorstep baby yet, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I think I wonder where our other baby is, because I feel like we're missing the third baby we don't, and will never, have. The third baby that's waiting for us in heaven already.
So, this must be the definition of loss. Always waiting for something you know in your heart of hearts you will never have.
Maybe I'll stop checking the front porch so much. Maybe I'll just be content with the idea that some day, a very, very long time from now (God willing), we will all meet again and be that family of five - finally.
But, maybe not.