Moving forward

Sometimes, late at night, when I'm by myself, it gets to me.

The realization that my husband and I officially have no more friends who aren't parents already or who aren't expecting.

The realization that literally any day my younger sister could call me up and tell me she's pregnant because she's married now.

 (and she's four years younger than me)

The realization that we may never get to be parents. 

On a day to day basis, I am loving living life. 

I have immersed myself in my kitchen, baking new things on a weekly basis. 

We have immersed ourselves in riding our Harley as often as possible.

We have immersed ourselves in loving and playing with our three four legged furbabies.

But none of those things will ever fill that empty void that comes with being childless when you so desperately want to have a baby.

The beginning of next year will be here before we know it and with that comes the end of our 'carefree' year. 

And I know I've said it before, but it scares me silly.

I have given it to God.  I did that a long time ago.

It doesn't mean I'm okay with his plan.

It doesn't mean that the sting I feel when a resident says "Shame on you" when they ask if I have children and I tell them I don't, goes away.

It doesn't mean baby showers get any easier. 

It doesn't mean hanging out with our friends and their children gets any easier either.  Not because we don't love them or you, but because we can't help but measure our lack of progress by the age of your kids.

But this is it, our life.  We've only got one chance at it.  We won't get these years back.

And no matter how bad our timeline has been screwed up, I refuse to look back on these years knowing I wasted them by being miserable. 

We've got one life.  And every morning we wake up, we remind ourselves to make the most of it.