tis the season?

What is it with August? It seems, now, that it is the beginning of my grief season. This is the month it all began, a tiny spark and a flutter of excitement in my heart. In the last few days I have felt the memories sort of crowding in around the edges of my consciousness. They have never really left, but they seem heavier, a little bit harder to bear right now. Maybe it is something about the light at this time of year, or that feeling of being at the tail end of summer, that makes me yearn a little harder for that magical button that would transport me back three years. Back to being that 22 year old whose dreams of a surprise baby (because it was completely impractical to have one on purpose) were about to come true. Sometimes I wish we had just been more careful. Twenty-two is so young to have your life fall apart. Or maybe my magical button would even allow me to change the course of history, to take the vitamins and deliver a healthy girl in May. But would I really choose to change it, knowing what I know now? I don't know. Probably not, now that I have this incredible boy who is so clearly meant to be in my life.

And then there is the fact that my cycles are suddenly lining up within days of those in 2008. After two pregnancies, 18 months of breastfeeding, and a whole range of irregular cycles in between, my cycles have regulated and the calendars are matching up almost to the day. Which means I am feeling dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind and trying it all again at the end of this month. I don't even know why there is a pull to have another pregnancy that would line up with all the dates. In the early days of my grief it would have been the last thing I ever wanted. And, in reality, it would be completely impractical for us to get pregnant again right now (although that would also be much like Layla's pregnancy). But I can't seem to stop thinking about it, imagining being taken by surprise again, announcing it to the world, seeing healthy a healthy spine and feeling tiny feet in my ribs.

I think there is a part of me that feels like I know what to do now, like I can fix it, make it work this time, if I only had the chance. I feel crazy, like that instinctual mother has taken over again and all logic is lost to that deep desire to nurture another little being.

I should probably stay far, far away from my husband for awhile. ;)