When two absolutely needs to become three

I have got to stop talking to you as if you are still in my belly Gab.  I mean, I chat to the twins all the time, but saying when Papa arrives home from work "Hai visto? Papa e' tornato" (look papa's back) is nothing but a ticket to a mental institution.  It was more than a habit though,you were my future and now that's on stand-by - this is why I'm finding it hard to break.

I was chatting to online to a friend just the other day. I was trying to remember when the two of us, my husband and I stopped being enough.  I clearly remember a time when I didn't discuss my day-to-day life with photos, chat to an empty belly, not stock the cupboards with obscure brands of vitamins which all boast magical powers, weep at watching 4400 boxset and wish there was actually a 'healer' that I could call to mend my broken placentas.  I do remember when it was just him and I, he was everything to me, everything I ever wished for. We laughed 'Babies-pah!  Who needed babies?!'. Don't get me wrong he absolutely still is my one and only, but that stopped being enough.  I am now kind of regretful that it did because this year has turned out to be very, very, NOT what we wanted.

Something switched on and now its stuck in my head, like that song you can't get rid of.  I have to have a baby and every time I am denied I become more resilient.  I have to do this.  Not out of selfishness, but out of love.  Not for the fact that I fail, but for the very fact that I almost win.  Each time.

It becomes an obsessive.  An all consuming game where you are playing against yourself, striving to find the answer, without the foggiest idea about what the rules are.  This is not helped by the game not being played anything like the one you played with your dolls as a child.  Do you remember?  Your tummy got big (aided by an uncomfortable plastic-limbed doll being stuffed up your jumper), you went to hospital (bottom bunkbed), you came home with a plastic baby that used to cry when you pulled its dummy out of its mouth (until the batteries ran out) and broke when you made it 'drink' water.

It is hard not to become fanatical, immediately running to Hobbycraft to buy those dyed pink feathers that you read somewhere would sustain a pregnancy if you wore them strapped round your waist whilst running down the street naked.

You become a believer in all kinds of unbelievable, the stuff I used to pull my 'no way' face at.  I believe now.  In all that stuff.  Any kind of stuff.  Just stuff.  Give me the stuff.  I need to make him happy, I have to make him smile again because it isn't fair that I found my soulmate to only make him the saddest man in the world.

Funeral is Wednesday.....I say it again.  I cannot wait for this year to conclude. 

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