The next stage, like it or not

My youngest turned 5 the other day. I still think of him as my baby, and I might always. After all, he is my baby, the youngest of my brood.It's easier in many ways, this stage of our family. It's easier to find a sitter without a baby in the house, there's no one peeing on the floor, I don't have to arrange my life around breastfeeding breaks. Yet my arms ache. There is a sense of completeness missing when I look at our family. I wonder how much of it is the one baby, the one who would be my youngest, the one I never got to hold. Am I missing him when I see our family? Do other women who've miscarried feel this way?I talk to Aaron about it, and he isn't with me in the missing. He is happy to be "done" with toddlers. I wonder how that impacts our dreams of adoption? I still stop by Reece's Rainbow often, looking at the photos, dreaming of bringing one of them home. Sadness strikes - dozens of countries won't allow us to adopt because of my history of depression. Anger creeps in - do they really think those babies are better lying in cribs, malnourished, unheld, eventually to "age out" of the orphanage and die in a mental institution just because they are physically or mentally disabled? Would I be that horrible of a mother to those children?I try to make peace with my youngest being 5. I hold him, and he stretches well over half my body length. He is getting so big, and so not a baby any longer.I pray for peace, too. All those orphans have a father - the Father of the fatherl...
Source: Turquoise Gates - Category: Cancer Tags: incompleteness Theodore birthdays loss celebration Caleb grief family Source Type: blogs