I cry, again...

My vicious cycle is starting, yet again... This doesn't get any easier. The days, weeks, months, years that pass rip through me like a tidal wave washing away all of my emotions rendering me numb. Just when I think that we caught an emotional and spiritual miracle my wings are clipped and I quickly hit the ground with no parachute. I rub my abdomen thinking sorry baby... it just wasn't the right time. Here I would have been honored with the timing as your due date would have been a very important day to me, April 1st. But I can't plan the future. I only hold my (our) destiny in today.

I have begun to question my faith... Are my prayers not good enough? I have sinned just like the next person. I have repented for those sins and have been forgiven, or at least so I think I have been. Not being able to conceive again has really given me every sense of the word doubt. With each and every passing cycle, I feel like I am dying a slow and painful death of suffering.

I feel terrible that my daughter at this point will be the only sibling in our small little family. I knew that I didn't want a small family. I want her to have a support group with other siblings. One day her father and I will be old and eventually pass on to the heavens or hells of this earth. I do not want her to be alone. I want her to have other arms to embrace. I do not want her to be the only one to decide to pull the plug on life support or what casket we should be buried in. I don't want her to pack away her childhood memories when our house is empty. To me it'd just be cruel... I scream to my body saying why don't you work the way you are supposed to?!

I may just need to suck it up that I will never again be able to appreciate the morning sickness, swollen ankles, and countless hours of labor ever again. I miss being pregnant so bad. I regret never taking a picture of myself while pregnant with my daughter as I was too worried that I looked like a beached whale. I was ashamed of my appearance; unappreciative of what I was carrying in my uterus. I took for granted with every sense of the word that I held a child. That I could carry her to full term. That I didn't have problems. And now I feel as if I will never have the glow again.... I read my pregnancy journal I had with my daughter and I regret I didn't keep the book more up to date and never made the time to write my emotional and physical experiences. I just look back on those glorious nine months and I kick myself in my own preverbal ass for taking everything for granted. And now that I am literally on my hands and knees or back begging to have this all happen to me again I am paying the ultimate price... Rubbing an empty uterus, crying myself to sleep and praying that I too may be granted another miracle.

I have begun to wonder what I did so badly to deserve this pain and agony...