I am just so excited. Did I mention that? Well I am.

Relieved, too. There were times when I really wasn’t sure that I’d be in a place when I was securely planning my next IVF… when I wasn’t really sure we’d ever have another chance. I see this moving forward, and I see us getting that chance… the chance to bring home a baby from the hospital. The thought overwhelms me. I don’t know if my brain can really full grasp it, yet. I’m still too scared that something is going to get in the way. Right now I just focus on getting to the IVF cycle. One step at a time, right?

I think my mind is getting used to the concept that Devin is gone. It’s one thing to know it… it’s another thing to really know it in your heart… to know it when you first wake up, know it in your daydreams. But there are still moments – brief, fleeting moments – when the memory of me being pregnant is so fresh I forget how long it’s been. It’s like a knife twisting in my gut. I never want to forget the joy I felt, the time I spent with him… but remembering it in such clarity just makes it all too obvious what I am lacking. Thankfully those jolts are getting less frequent. They were right… time really does heal even these wounds. I will always have a scar… but it doesn’t throb as painfully or as frequently as it once did.

Some people would react to such a horrific loss by pulling away… putting all baby items in boxes, out of sight… closing up the nursery… getting back to their old life. I can understand that reaction, I really can. But I am not one of those people. I immerse myself in Devin’s things… It’s taken me a long time to put things away. Just this weekend I went through all the sympathy cards we received, catalogued them, and put them in his memory box. They’d all been sitting in a pile on our dining room table for over 6 months. Other gifts I received have also been sitting there on display, the table turned into a small altar, of sorts. It has been hard for me to let go, to clear off space. I still can’t put his memory box away… it’s still sitting there in the living room. Closed (because of the pesky cats), but in plain sight.

Kristi reminded me over email that all Devin ever knew was our love. He spent his entire life safe inside my womb, listening to our voices, our hands pressed against his little feet. He knew we were here. He knew he was loved.

I wait impatiently for the day when I can carry his sibling inside me. Today I let go of the fears and simply revel in the expectancy that our time will come. We will get another chance. And it will be someday soon.