I'm still processing, but it's starting to get easier to find words

I've started writing a post probably five or six times now. I've given up after the first two sentences every time.  I don't know if it's just that I can't find words to explain everything I'm feeling or that the words I can find seem so insignificant.  I also feel like if I post some sort of summary of the last three weeks, it will mean that this is final and I am now officially "over" it.  I don't think I'll ever be over this in a way where I don't think about my little baby again.

I've told some friends, it's like I have a deep wound, slowly healing, but I hope it leaves a scar because I never want to forget how this little one has turned my life upside down.  I never thought I could love someone so much.  I fell in love with a group of 120 cells.  I think about this little group of cells everyday.  I wonder what she/he would look like.  I feel like a mom. I know that the world would never call me a mom in this circumstance. People lose babies at this stage all the time without ever even knowing about it. The difference is that I did know, and it was the only baby that John and I have ever had.  Our little number 8.  It was our baby and it was real.  I will see you someday little one.  God will hold you until I can.  You are in the best hands!

A friend asked me an important question about looking forward.  If we knew right now that our second transfer wouldn't work, would we still do it.  I didn't really even have to think about it.  100% yes.  I asked John. No hesitation. 100% yes.  We are committed to our other two babies.  We love them already too.  We are the only people who can do this for them.  God is showing me more and more that I am just a vessel, a carrier and caretaker. I may care for the little ones for years or I may care for the little ones for two days like I did with little number 8.  My job isn't to make them stay on this earth. My job is to be a mother and love these lives.  There is no more loving thing that I can do this year than give all three of my babies a chance at life. And because of that, I know I am a mother with a child in heaven.

We will do a second transfer this year if at all possible.  I'm committed to it. Am I as excited as before? No.  Am I afraid? Very.  Hopeful? Trying to be.  I can't have faith it this transfer working. It may not. I must will myself to have faith in who God is and what he plans for my life. That's why truth is so important for me to hear right now. I must continuously speak it over myself.

I'm ready to talk more if anyone wants to write me an email/message etc.  I've appreciated the friends around me that know how to grieve with someone or just express sincere sadness with me. It is a unique skill that I have found most people don't have.  I've also appreciated friends that speak truth to me. It's like I'm storing up stacks of truths in my head for those bad days when lies creep in about who I am, the time/money we've lost, the impossibility of it all etc. I need a vast storehouse of truth to combat every doubt that enters my mind.

Thank you for your prayers. I am getting better and seeking ways to find closure without ignoring or forgetting the pain.