it’s been 11 years this august

and at some point, I thought I would stop waking up thinking I was pregnant only to run my hand over my belly and miss the baby that will never be there.

I hate those dreams…the ones that are so real, they leave me with an all day ache I hardly feel able to discuss. The ones that leave tears tugging at the backs of my eyes for a life that is never going to happen…for an acceptance of a situation that is done… IT’S DONE and over…but apparently is never fully going to get here. Will I be a wrinkled old woman, bent and grayed and still wake with these dreams?

My hand feeling for that phantom swollen belly like soldiers with their aching amputated limbs?

I thought I couldn’t bear knowing that I would never have another pregnancy…but what I really can’t bear is an entire life being haunted this way.

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