17 weeks....or not.

My posts are fewer lately, as I try to focus on other things. I do my best to not think about IVF, or if my future holds our Vincent or not. We talk about it weekly, but there's no answers to be found right now. The only thing we know is if it becomes possible and available to us, we'll at least try. But it might not become available, and we may be done having children. Two may be our number chosen for us.

Still, there's some things that are possible to get away from. Sometimes I look down at my flat belly and know it would be getting pretty huge by now. Today, I'd turn 17 weeks. We'd almost be reaching the halfway point. We'd be able to find out the gender soon, if I folded and couldn't wait until birth.

Instead, I've sold my favorite, expensive strollers and all of my maternity clothing. I've been sorting through and trying to sell the totes after giant totes full to the brim of baby clothing for every season. I put up for sale my co-sleeper, the one thing I didn't think I could get rid of, because it seems like a silly thing to hold onto with a future so unclear. Sure, there will be a few things I can't get rid of. The white lamb that's so cuddly and was supposed to be for the next baby. The little pirate bear sweater that I bought because it fit Vincent's theme so well. The little purple and pink fuzzy dinosaur sleeper I couldn't wait to cuddle a baby in. I'll keep a small box full of my hopes and dreams, but there's an overwhelming amount to get rid of yet.

It's hard to look at my belly and know how round it would be, how I'd be rubbing it and excited to be feeling all those kicks and hiccups. How my husband would be laying his head against it, talking to our new baby. These are the things that hurt the most. Knowing that none of those things may ever happen again. I enjoyed every moment of them...never knowing that I wouldn't get it again, that things would change so much.