Any day now...

In the beginning, this little blog was created out of insanity. My heart was breaking over losing my fifth (yes, fifth) pregnancy -- well into the second trimester. Jack had been diagnosed with autism not two months prior and I was caught between a rock and hard place. The hard place being this idea to keep our media company going. I truly believe that we would've been able to pull through it, had Jack been developing at a normal rate. But he isn't - it's taking a little bit longer. That's what I tell myself throughout the day when I realize how far away he is from his typical peers. But that's ok. He doesn't have to be something he is not, he has the right to be a child right now, because he is one. We take it a day at a time. 

If I hadn't lost the baby - she'd be about 40 weeks by now -- we'd be expecting her any day. My little girl. I never really found out what the sex was - but I know she was a girl. I could feel it. I never believed Kane was a girl, like all the scans said. They could never be sure, they'd say. I just knew it was Kane. 

I see little girls, sweet little baby girls wherever we are lately. They just pop out, always smiling and so completely saccharine sweet. This bitter sweetness wraps around my head, and I get teary-eyed. I can't help it. I allow myself to feel it. I wish I could have had her. I think about the way she'd look; maybe she'd have dark hair like me and long lashes like her Daddy. Maybe her eyes were green. This pain takes over me only when I succumb to it -- otherwise I quickly remind myself how much Jack needs me and his Dad, and how another baby might not be the best fit for our family. But you know, I don't know that. It could've been great. It would've probably been wonderful. She would've been my little sweet girl, someone to take to the shops or out to field to pick flowers, she'd have loved to play trucks with Kane and comforted Jack during a meltdown. I never had her, but I miss her. 

Hold on to what you have, however small or big. Sometimes the smallest of things can mean the most. I love you, baby. 

Jill