Well Isabella turned 5 on the 26th. At first I was thrilled that my little girl was growing up, but then the reality of our life right now set in. After nearly a year and a half of trying with no success I started worrying that she’ll be my only baby. I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet, but what if Isabella was a miracle baby and that’s it for us? I don’t know that I’d ever be able to accept that as a conclusion to our family. One kid: that seems outrageous to me coming from a family of 3 kids and growing up with dozens and dozens of cousins. The really hard part is when it seems like everyone around you is having babies. Family and friends all updating statuses on facebook about how far along they are, when they’re due, what symptoms they’re having. I sit at home and read these and feel guilty, angry at life, and sad. What if it’s Johnny? What if it’s me? What if it’s my meds or Arthritis? While I’m working hard on trying not to stress about it, another month goes by, and then another.
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