Two weeks ago amidst the bfn and news of the cyst, Max and I decided to pile it all in one week.
We found out that the baby we lost in December was a boy.
There were many, complicated reasons that we waited. But I knew I needed to know that. So when we were ready, we asked.
I was honestly scared to death about how I would react. I knew I would be devastated if it was a girl. But I was even more scared that I might feel relief if it wasn't. In the end, I'm not exactly sure how it would have been if it had gone the other way. But my heart literally broke imagining the son that could have been.
The word in my mind...boy...made the baby so much more real in my mind. And instantly, I was grieving all over again.
Church on Sunday was particularly difficult. Lately, I have been sitting in the foyer. 1) because I'm late and 2) because it's easier to hide when I cry through the whole thing. Well, Sunday a family was there with a baby boy and he started fussing during church so his dad brought him out to the foyer to walk him around. So I sat the rest of the service watching this precious baby boy and his doting father. All I could do was stare at them and wish it could be us.
But all the wishing doesn't bring me any closer.
Is this closure? I don't know. The wound feels just as open as it did four months ago.