What should have been

I have entered into the month of July – the month that was supposed to change my life forever.
Instead, my life was changed forever in March when I became a mother to a child in heaven.

Right now, I should have been 37 weeks pregnant.
Instead, I am barren, with no children in sight and an unquenchable desire to be a mother haunting me and even suffocating me.

I should have been having showers and joyfully preparing for my little one with friends and family.
Instead, I am spending time with doctors discussing getting pregnant again and ways to avoid another pregnancy loss in the future, and spending time with counselors to help me cope through such a tragedy.

I should have been fixing up his little nursery and delicately fingering tiny clothes and fuzzy blankets that I would use to wrap him in.
Instead, I try hard not to cry as I walk past baby sections in stores and when I still receive baby ads in the mail and over email.

I should have been sharing the pregnancy with other expecting friends and mothers.
Pain has handicapped my ability to walk among my friends as I once did. It has only been four months, but it might as well have been yesterday. I yearn to be strong enough to be around those expecting and with children but it is not to be. At least, not right now. The wound is too deep.

I should have been reading books on pregnancy, babies, and parenting.
Instead, I am reading books on grief, crisis of faith, and despair.

I should have been visiting my doctor regularly to be checked for signs of labor.
Instead, I am visiting him regularly as a patient with a history of infertility and pregnancy loss.

I should have been able to quit my job and start my dream of being a stay-at-home mom.
Instead, I continue to make myself go to work each day, without any hope of quitting in the near future.

I should have been happily shopping for my son, purchasing items to take care of him and buying him gifts to show my love.
Instead, I am shopping for his grave marker.

I should have been dreaming sweet dreams of holding my son in just a few weeks.
Instead, my dreams are full of painful memories and agonizing hurt as I think about what I have lost. And what should have been.

My son.