Last night as I tried to fall asleep, my thoughts drifted, as they often do, to my babies. I thought about how they are my world and how, at the risk of sounding completely cliche, I had no idea I was capable of loving this much. And how I had no idea two little people could make me this insanely happy. I am just madly, madly in love with them both.
And then it hit me. For the first time in almost two years, since I was plucked from my despair and sadness, I thought about something I used to think about a lot in the more than five years I suffered through infertility: During those difficult years, I often said I missed the babies I couldn't yet have. I grieved for them. I longed to be with them. It wasn't just an abstract idea of wanting to be a mother. My heart actually ached for my babies.
And now they're here. And that ache has been replaced by all the love a heart can possibly hold.
It was them all along. I don't know if it's theologically correct, or what is actually plausible, but I feel like I knew them even before they were here. Most people probably don't have a lot of time to think about that; when they decide they want to be parents, it happens. But I had five long years to dwell on what, or rather who, was missing. And I thought about it a lot. I didn't know exactly who they were, what gender, or how many, but I knew my heart cried out for them.
For whatever reason, I hadn't given it a thought since first finding out about Clara. My world changed in an instant and I didn't look back all that much. But last night it was just so amazing to remember those feelings and realize it's them. It was always them.
And maybe there will be more. Maybe there won't. But at least I no longer grieve what I don't yet have. By the grace of God, my heart has gone from broken to overflowing because they're here.