Thursday, August 4, 2011

Not Enough.

Having kids is a common conversation in my work center. Not about any person's children, but being pregnant and having babies. As in, "Oh, this person will be pregnant soon, I just know it." Or "So when are you gonna start popping out those babies? You're married now, so they should be here soon."

I don't mind talking about pregnancy. Or babies.

But I hate listening to someone talk about how they're not having babies because they have a career to work on. Or because they want to have fun in life. Or because they're not that irresponsible.

Now don't get me wrong. If you don't want to have a baby, for whatever reasons, that is completely fine with me. It's none of my concern. But that I have to sit there every day listening to someone bash the idea of babies, when I would do anything in the world to hold my own again, is really disheartening. Especially when everyone in the room knows what happened with my babies.

I can't say that I ever saw myself as a parent, honestly. One of our childhood dreams for my sister, my cousins, and me was to grow up, raise our families, and grow old together. But in reality, I was never expecting it to happen.

Having a baby wasn't something that I was looking for or necessarily wanted. Until it happened. Then I wanted it more than anything in the world. And then it was taken away from me. Twice. And there is nothing in the universe that can ever bring them back.

I had my itunes playing earlier as I was cleaning the kitchen. (I finally got around to doing something. Something small, and just so that I could have sweet tea, but it still counts.) This song came on:

I thought of those conversations, and I realized how much this song is every bit of what I feel about my babies. I love those two more than anything in this world, but love is not enough to do anything, not enough to make it better, not enough to bring them back. 


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