I’ve been in a weird mood this past week. I blame it partly on the season – mid-winter has always been my least favorite part of the year. I blame it partly on the three-day weekend – it’s great that Geordie gets a day off to relax and spend time at home, but I always feel like I’m playing catch up.

And I blame it partly on . . . I don’t know how to explain it. Memories? Not nostalgia, but kinda nostalgia.

Two years ago, Lauren was in development. We had no idea; even I had no idea, not this early on. Two years ago, our lives were on the brink of changing, in so many ways.

Everything feels all jumbly this week.

I don’t want to wait until March to start trying.┬áBut no way in hell do I want to try before then.

Is it weird that I don’t want our second child to be born in autumn? That I want that season to belong to Lauren? I know a couple of babyloss mamas who have had/are having their rainbow babies very near to the birthdays of their lost children. Is it weird that I couldn’t imagine having to share Lauren’s birthday with another child? Is it selfish? A little crazy?

I’m anxious to start trying, and the thought of it excites me, that we’re finally able to try again.

But at the same time, I’m terrified. I have doubts. I almost don’t want to.

Yes, I realize that’s normal. But the problem isn’t that I’m terrified of losing another baby (though I am). It’s not that I’m afraid something awful will happen (though I am).

The problem is that, deep down, I still just want to have Lauren back. She’s the baby I want. Right now, at this very moment today, she is the only baby I want.

I’ve written about this before, I know, but it’s been particularly troubling to me today. I can’t imagine being pregnant with any baby but Lauren. I can’t imagine bringing home any baby but Lauren. Even after having been without her for so long, I keep feeling like I’m just waiting for her to arrive. Like those last couple weeks of the pregnancy. I’m still waiting.

The worst of it is that I hate that I feel this way. I’m being unfair to a child who hasn’t even been conceived yet. While I realize that my outlook may change completely when (if – that’s a completely different fear) I get pregnant, right now, I can’t help feeling this way. Trust me, I’ve tried to reason with myself. It hasn’t worked. Grief is not often logical, which is what makes it so hard to deal with.

So, it’s been a rough week. I figure the rest of winter will be pretty rough too. As usual, I just can’t wait for spring to get here, only now I have more reasons than ever to feel that way.

It would be nice to feel normal again, but that’s a hopeless cause, I think. Normal really hasn’t got much meaning for me anymore.

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