Blue Is My Color

Define irony: 1) Ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife; 2) I've got the booze, she's got the chronic, AND the Lakers beat the Supersonics; 3) Being "anti-choice," and not given a choice.

I would absolutely describe myself as anti-choice when the choice is whether or not to have an abortion, because I don't believe that should ever be a choice. 

The irony stems from the fact that for the last year and a half, it has been my choice to have another child.  Neither my choice, nor physical disability, have prohibited this from happening. Rather, it is someone else's choice that stands in my way. 

Ironic. 

I long for another child. For seven years this blog has been a platform for my heart's fears and desires, and for seven years readers have followed me from the death of my child, to my dreams for another, to the realization of not one but two rainbow babies.  But I have now reached the biggest gap in any of my four pregnancies.  3 months between Baby Cude and Gabriel.  2 years and 3 months between Gabriel and Eden.  9 months between Eden and Delilah.  And Delilah is now 2 years and 8 months old.

My heart and my eyes cry daily for another child.  I do not NOT have another child for lack of longing or for disability, but as a product of choice.

The black fly in my chardonnay. 

Blue is my color.  It's in every step and every breath I take.  My soul seeks my missing children even while it meets the obligations before it.  I hate to say that I am looking for a tie breaker, but I will concede that I am conflicted.  My heart cries out to be with the children that are a part of me, yet so far away.  The longing is powerful.  Overwhelming sometimes. 

Yet here I am.  Blue.  Sad.  Incomplete. Heartbroken.  Giving kisses.  Giving hugs.  Loving.  Living. Brushing hair.  Brushing teeth.  Buckling shoes.  Changing diapers.  Buckling car seats.  Admiring crafts.  Reading books.  Singing songs. Feeling the weight of children lost, children never to be, but still walking. Feeling the weight of every step, but forcing myself to take it.  A free ride, but I've already paid.