We Have No Children

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My wife and I very much wanted to have children. It was something that we discussed, and the joy of becoming parents was something that was very dear to us. I cannot tell you how excited I was (and scared to death) when my wife first told me, "I am pregnant." I remember pacing around at work (at the time I worked for Coke) and tried to imagine how I would be. How this would go. I kept thinking, "Oh, my God. I am going to be a father." I prepared myself mentally. I tried to imagine life with someone calling me dad. I wanted to be the best I could be and I wanted to be better than my dad was to me. But life is not always fair. We lost it. In the blink of an eye it was gone. We did not even know if it was a boy or a girl. The baby was simply... Gone. I would not be a father. For the moment I resigned myself to that, and I simply let it go. I needed to be there for my wife who was DEVASTATED about it. She went through a hard time with it. But I was there for her to help her get through it. It was not an easy time for me either, even though I thought I had less of a connection. But seeing her pain was VERY painful for me. I was her husband. I needed to remain strong for HER. And so we tried again. We had success. My wife told me she was pregnant again... And that one too was lost. I am not that much of a sentimental guy. At times I can actually be a jerk if I am being totally honest. But it was still devastating for both of us. We still often refer to our kids as "those kids we never got to meet." I often imagine them now, 9 or 10 years old, running around the house and driving us probably to the brink of madness. It is a madness I, and I think SHE would welcome. I watched my sister have four wonderful children, and while life may not be all it was cracked up to be for THEM, I'd give a lot to endure their torture just for a second. We did not get that. We lost our children before they could open their eyes and say hello to us. Before precious little eyes could stare in wonder at us, and the world they were coming into. There would be no first step, no first word. Nothing. All we got to cherish was the thought. The moment. The possibility. The hope. The dream. And the wonder was all ours. The wonder of what they might become. What joys they might bring us. And even, perhaps, what future pains they might bring us. What future challenges we might be faced with as we guided them through life. I am very saddened every day by this. But it is what it is, and all we can do is live our lives now as it is. Without little minds and little voices and little hearts beating with us, enjoying and experiencing all of the joys of life with us. They are there. In our hearts of course. But it does not hurt any less. And there is not a day that goes by that even a hardened guy like me doesn't think about them. There is not a day that goes by that wonders what we might be talking about right this very moment. Or what things they might be doing that might cause me to roll my eyes at them or scold them. Or just enjoy them. I wanted to try a third time. I think the third time might have stuck. But my wife could not endure the pain of it. She could not endure the pain of losing another one. And so we talked. We talked long and hard about it. And we decided that it just was not in the cards for us. We would have each other, but no little minds, and no little voices, and no little hearts. And while of course I still have some regrets... I trust that what happened in the end was for the best, and while sometimes I do feel like our lives are somewhat incomplete... We still have each other. And our children, though we never got to meet them, do live. In our hearts. In our imaginations. In our thoughts. Forever and always. I am not a religious guy. But I hope that someday, somewhere, maybe I can have the opportunity to still hold their hands and one day tell them that I love them, and always will. Maybe one day I will still hear the words uttered to me, "I love you, dad." Maybe.