Today I spent some time with pregnant SIL while the men were busy doing men things. She is getting exceedingly close to her due date – less than a week to go now. Her doctors will let her go a week overdue before bringing up induction (which is refreshing), so baby could still be another two weeks out. Hanging out with her just doesn’t bother me. I keep thinking that it “should,” all things considered. But it simply doesn’t.

I feel quite positive today, in fact. I feel like my next chance is lurking just around the corner, that I just have to be patient. I remind not to get too discouraged too quickly, as even superfertiles don’t always fall pregnant their first time out of the gate – SIL reminded me that I didn’t even get pregnant my first IVF. Patience. It requires patience.

I realized today, when I was thinking about being pregnant again, that I was thinking about Devin’s little sibling. I can’t remember me thinking about it like that before – I know I’ve mentioned to others briefly how our next baby will be our second, but in my head thinking about pregnancy was always a keening need to fill a void, to replace what has been lost. I wanted to be pregnant, but the thought of being pregnant with someone who wasn’t Devin was just… beyond comprehension, really. I knew it conceptually, but I couldn’t truly wrap my brain around it. I couldn’t conceive of a different child. I didn’t want a different child. So today it was a bit of a shock when I caught myself wondering what our next child is going to be like. And for some reason I am thinking girl… I keep picturing Kailet waiting next in line.

Yes, it is extremely extremely hard thinking about having a little girl, without Devin here to show her the way. It was supposed to be the two of them, Devin and Kailet… siblings. And they will be siblings… just not the way we ever pictured it. And that’s hard. It’s going to continue being hard. My entire next pregnancy is going to be hard, dealing with all the “firsts” a second time around. All those triggers, all those memories.

I realized when talking with my SIL today that I never actually got to see all the stuff we got for Devin. I did set up the stroller, because I wanted to see it and play with it, but there were several big boxes that we never opened: the crib, the carseat, the pack’n’play. I got a little bit sad looking at her things, wishing I had gotten to appreciate them before he died, before their existence was connected to loss instead of joy. We still have them all, because we plan to use them all again… but pulling them out will never again be a purely joyful, exciting event.

Maybe one of these days I’ll find my way into the garage, where they are kept, and open up the boxes. Just to see them… maybe to play with them a little. To remember what should have been.