I am feeling old.
Not really old. But old to be bearing children. I'm not really that old but age is how you feel I guess, and I feel old. Or at least on the journey to old.
I am tired.
And I am hopeful. Tremblingly hopeful this baby might be the Hope of my dreams, but afraid to hope too much because a boy would be loved all the same.
And I feel like there are places in my heart that can only be healed by the touch of my own baby girl, Eva's sister. I could be wrong. But, I don't think so.
And I am also afraid of a girl. Afraid of the emotions that would well up in me if we had a girl. Afraid of being over the top paranoid about a baby girl. Afraid of her dying too, like her sister.
I feel like this is the end of my journey through birth. And I am not sad. About that. We will never make the mistake we made in February 2011 again, so, I could be wrong about that too, but I don't think so.
And so I hope and fear and love all in one breath.
For Eva's sister. Or another brother.