Your father and I have been counting days. He doesn't ask me any longer how many days it's been. I don't share either, because I've tried to ignore it. We miss you even though you aren't a reality yet. It's a constant ache inside that we're trying to shut off. I do research and try and solve our problem that may or may not exist. The hardest part is the waiting.
Fall is my favorite season, but all I can think about is November. What will happen in November when I go back to the Dr.? What if he says that something is wrong and gives us options that we can't work with?
We want to meet you, to call you our own, to be your parents, but we also want to both be here to see you grow. I can't leave your father alone, and I don't want you to be without me.
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