In our upstairs hallway is a gallery wall. Filled with smiling happy pictures of Henry, our wedding -- the usual. And, there is one empty frame.
Originally, they were all empty And slowly we've found the perfect pictures. Pictures that Morgan and I are happy to look at all day, every day. But, through this process, we've struggled to fill the final frame. Did we really need more pictures of Henry? He's really cute, seriously, but how many pictures do we need of him in one space? More pictures of us? No. Our dogs? Didn't feel right.
So, it sat empty, just waiting for the perfect picture. Then, it dawned on me. The picture hasn't been taken yet. Our family isn't complete. Sometime, somewhere, somehow we have another child waiting for us. In that moment of realization, I got the courage to try again to get pregnant. I've struggled for months to decide where I wanted to go after my last loss. And, deep down, this was my answer.
Believe me, even typing that out gives me anxiety and brings up tremendous grief. But, that picture frame represents hope and our future. It's a physical sign that we want more. Even if I'm terrified, and feel pretty much hopeless, a little spark of hope exists even if I can't fully articulate it.
The picture frame will sit empty. It will wait. And, we will hope.
Originally, they were all empty And slowly we've found the perfect pictures. Pictures that Morgan and I are happy to look at all day, every day. But, through this process, we've struggled to fill the final frame. Did we really need more pictures of Henry? He's really cute, seriously, but how many pictures do we need of him in one space? More pictures of us? No. Our dogs? Didn't feel right.
So, it sat empty, just waiting for the perfect picture. Then, it dawned on me. The picture hasn't been taken yet. Our family isn't complete. Sometime, somewhere, somehow we have another child waiting for us. In that moment of realization, I got the courage to try again to get pregnant. I've struggled for months to decide where I wanted to go after my last loss. And, deep down, this was my answer.
Believe me, even typing that out gives me anxiety and brings up tremendous grief. But, that picture frame represents hope and our future. It's a physical sign that we want more. Even if I'm terrified, and feel pretty much hopeless, a little spark of hope exists even if I can't fully articulate it.
The picture frame will sit empty. It will wait. And, we will hope.
