I honestly don't know how to start this blog post, so I'm just going to let the words fly off my finger tips (if I was talking to you, I would have said the words would fall out of my mouth). Here it goes: I get irritated when people don't seem to understand that being around a bunch of pregnant people or people that have babies would bother me. I'm not too old to have more kids, but due to medical reasons, I cannot. Yes, I have three children already. I'm sure someone out there just rolled their eyes. "Oh poor baby," you may think "she already has three kids and she wants more? How greedy! I can't even get pregnant with one!" Well, my darling sister, it doesn't hurt any less. My arms ache to hold a little one. My lips need to sooth a crying bundle. My ears need to hear the little noises. I have been there and tasted the sweetness of the love that comes from holding a precious gift.
    Now, before you think badly about me, I do love my kids. My oldest is 12 now (gulp) and although I secretly dreaded it, her growing up is so much fun! She is smart and beautiful and excels at every single thing she does! It is a blast to wonder what she might do with her life now that she is coming into the person she will choose to be. I love watching her walk with God bravely and unashamedly. My son is 10 and possibly moodier than his older sister. He is growing like a weed and this year shot his first buck to bring home venison to feed our family. He looks different to me somehow. More grown up, closer to being a man. My youngest, is still little enough at 7 that she still needs Mommy and Daddy. She still loves to snuggle and is tiny-major bonus!
    I have never suffered a miscarriage, but I have lost babies. I have never had to cry over the unknown and wonder why God chose to keep that baby from me. I don't have babies in heaven that I count. I cannot even imagine the pain that would cause. The struggle your entire family would go through. The pain in your husband's eyes as he tried to be strong. The overwhelming emptiness that must follow is, I'm sure, too vast for understanding. If you have suffered a miscarriage. I am so sorry. If you have tried and never gotten pregnant, I only wish you well. Your pain is something I'm not sure I could endure.
     What I do have to endure is the memories of when I did have my babies. The giggle of the 6 year old that is only a haunting memory. The way the toddler would suck down a juice box faster than I could get my coat off and then take off running saying "Mommy, catch me!" The birthdays and Christmases we shared. Learning to ride a bike, learning to walk, the first day of school, losing her first tooth, the family camping trips, the church plays. All of these good times seem a little tainted now. I don't have the pain of the unknown, I have flashbacks to the day they were literally pulled from my arms and I have to hear their screams as the van drove off. I replay the moment when I laid my hand on their hearts and said "I love you, but Jesus loves you more and he is right here in your heart. You remember that." I watch my other kids as they find something in the house belonging to the girls and I see in their eyes the longing they have to just be able to hand it to them. The words "Mommy, come with me!" echo in my head as I look out into the driveway. 
     Sympathy only comes for so long after you lose a foster child. I appear to be strong because while there are other moms that have had miscarriages that can support each other, there are very few that can relate to what I am gong through. I cry by myself and each time I fall to the floor sobbing, I promise myself I am cried out and I won't have to do this again. Over and over I have promised myself that. I still catch myself looking at the size 3T clothing at the store, because in my heart, they are still with me. I try so hard to smile when I talk about them for the sake of my other kids. I want them to associate good memories with the girls, not the paralyzing grief that happens to me. So while I sat in my Sunday School class room yesterday with three pregnant moms, all my energy went into being happy for them instead of the thoughts that wanted to squeeze in. I spend almost the whole hour planning my major cry session. I didn't expect anything different from the ladies, and I am truly happy for them. Two of them are my cousins, so another baby (or two) in the family is a blessing.
     I am quite sure I am over wanting to be pregnant again. I just want more babies in the house that fit as well as these two girls did. I want to complete my family with adoption and still be able to help other foster kids. I want to be able to grieve openly. I don't think this is too much to ask. 

~Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me~

Mark 9:37