More than Enough

I remember the first time Mark asked me if I wanted to have another baby. Amilia was about 3 months old, and we were laying in on our bed, watching another mindless comedy with a live studio audience. Our little girl, lay quietly, swaddled in her bassinet next to our bed. Anger immediately took over as I turned to him and asked, “Are you serious?!” I was nursing every 2 hours and the sleep deprivation was on par with that of interrogation tactics. Why would he ask me such a mean question?! Looking back, I can see how hormones might have affected might reaction a tad…

It’s so hard to believe it has been almost 3 years since our little girl came in the world; 3 years since I heard her first cry and Mark announce, “It’s a girl…it’s a girl!”. It’s even harder to believe that it has been over 2 years since our hearts have been waiting for the baby that won’t come.

Secondary infertility blindsided me.

The diagnosis felt like a cold bucket of water, and the uncertainty it brings shatters me with the passing of each month.

This season of life is hard. This season of life hurts. This season of life has forced me to focus on my blessings. It has forced me to focus on the blessings of my new reality, and not on the perfect portrait of what I thought our life would look like.

As my heart aches for the baby that won’t come, I look at my daughter and see that she is more than enough. If her sweet kicks were the only ones I will ever feel, those kicks are more than enough. If her little fingers were the only I ever felt scratching my back as I nursed her, those little fingers are more than enough. If her big brown eyes will be the only ones who will ever look up at me while dozing off to sleep, her brown eyes are more than enough. If her little voice is the only one that will ever say, “Mama,” her little voice is more than enough.

As my heart aches month after month for the baby that won’t come, I cling desperately to every moment with my little girl. I try to carve every smile, every word, every look, every laugh into my brain. I breathe in her baby smell, and memorize the sound of her voice. As my heart aches for the baby that won’t come, I hold on tighter to the baby I was blessed with.

And if the baby that my heat aches for never comes, Amilia will always be more than enough.