Last year, I was fully convinced that I would be pregnant by the new year. I was certain that I would be pregnant on the one year anniversary of Margaret's birth.
The first did not come true. The second is pretty unlikely.
I'm realizing that parts of my grief were wrapped up, held back, by so much focus on a new pregnancy. As I'm passing the dates that I was sure of, the saddness is coming up in new ways.
I know a subsequent pregnancy would be difficult. I don't think that it would solve everything, erase my grief. But I did think that it would give me some hope, something to focus on other than my sadness.
There's a piece of me now that's wondering if another baby will ever happen for us. Not that I'm giving in, giving up, just that I'm realizing the reality - of my "advanced maternal age", of the dangers to my own health, of being able to conceive at all - all of those things add up.
But letting some of the hope go has brought up that sadness in fresh new ways. It's made me miss Margaret more. That's on top of entering the new year, approaching her birthday, moving further and further away from the days that we had her.
Would it be different if I were pregnant now? Probably. But as I've learned these past ten months, going down those paths of 'what if' never gets you anywhere, other than the main guest at a pity party. So where do we go from here, where nothing can be different?