I don’t know

Are you done, or are you going to try for a girl?

Please don’t ask me that.  I don’t know.  That question is so heavy to me.  Heavy with grief.  Heavy with hope.  Heavy with fear.

I want a definite answer.  I want to be able to say, “we are done” or “we want more” but I can’t.  Our hands are full with three wonderfully wild boys.  But my arms ache for my baby.  After my first miscarriage, there wasn’t a question.  We wanted more, and I was pregnant six weeks later.  But not this time. 

I don’t know.  I don’t know if I can go through another first trimester of “all-day” sickness, if I am not guaranteed a baby in the end.  I don’t know if adoption will work with us moving to Guatemala, and I can’t guarantee that someone will choose us.

But, I look at my sweet Noah, and he is growing up so fast.  I didn’t think he was our last, so I didn’t hold on to moments enough.  I don’t know.

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