It was only a couple weeks ago I noticed my stomach getting a little harder - protruding, ever so slightly, in spite of my health conscious efforts. It was hardly more than a couple days ago that I took a test that showed two pink lines, one ever so faint, but still there. Then I took two more, just to be sure. I even went back to the store to get the fancy one. The one that would spell it out for me: Pregnant.
And somehow this third time was different than all the rest. It was slightly unplanned, but so wholeheartedly wanted. Having done this twice before, having known this love, I skipped past the fear and worry and what ifs, because I knew how little they mattered. There was joy and love and a baby growing inside me.
It's alarming how big that love can get before you've even heard a heartbeat. It's the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about when you fall asleep. And even when you're not thinking about that love, it's always there. You're putting your hand over your tiny little tummy and smiling. You're humming happy songs and swaying in that certain way. You're falling in love for a lifetime.
I don't really know what to say, about how horrible it is to have all that love built up inside of you and to have that new life taken from you. It hurts a lot worse than I'd imagined. There really aren't words for it. I was writing this trying to find some, but there aren't any. There is pain and screaming and sobbing and silence. There are no words.
There's a lifetime worth of love and a baby that will never be.