Two years ago, I was pregnant. Two years ago was the happiest time in my life. Chris and I chose to keep it a secret, only telling my employers because of the frequent bathroom trips I was having to make. Two years ago, I never would have imagined that I would be sitting here today, still "childless." Even when I miscarried her, I never imagined it'd take so long to actually have a baby.
Never in a million years did I think that we would have to seek fertility testing. I figured that when things calmed down, we'd conceive again and have our child. I didn't realize that I'd lose yet another baby just a few months later. As I sit here this evening, I look back on what should be. I shouldn't be on the computer. I should be getting two toddlers and an infant ready for bed! I should have three little ones by now. Instead, I sit here with empty arms waiting for morning to come so they can poke me again to take more blood for testing.
I sit here and I wonder why. Why me? (Why anybody?) What did I do so wrong that God feels I can't/shouldn't have a child?