Love.

This time of year is always a little bittersweet - I'm happy to spend the time with all of my family and friends, but at the same time, it hurts as I mourn the baby that could have been. Miscarriage changes your life forever. And not only do we mourn our little one, but we're faced this year with a plethora of pregnant bellies and little ones running around; B & I are getting to the age where all of our friends have started having children and in some cases, are already done having their kids. So we've been left behind. Blowing in the wind. So although Christmas is supposed to be a joyous time, our hearts will ache another year, yet again. But we'll put on a brave face and screw our smiles on until our cheeks are sore; we'll pretend to revel in the realities of a childless life, rubbing in the fact we slept in this morning and B made me breakfast in bed.

When, in reality, we'd give anything to give that up and be amongst those couples who bitch constantly about sleepless nights and shitty diapers. We'd give anything to be chasing a little one around cleaning up after them. Having them crawl into bed at an ungodly hour on Christmas morning, waking us up with their cold little hands, excited that Santa had been here.

Merry fucking Christmas. 

But - we hold out hope that next year, next year WILL be different. After all of these years and all of the negative tests and painful experiences, that next year will be our year to complain about diapers and sleepless nights. We hope and pray. And we love. We love each other more than anything. And

love is patient, love is kind... love never fails... and now these three remain - faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13)