It seems everyone is having babies. Every where I look there is a baby bump or belly. It's baby fever! I know I've surpassed the dating phase. Everyone has already gotten married. I realize I'm now at the age where everyone around me is either trying to get pregnant, due any day, bringing home a newborn, learning their baby's routines or dealing with a toddler. I get it and I'm very truly happy for each and every one. That's the honest-to-God truth. Really.
But, I'm also sad.
When the day comes for Shawn and I to have a baby, it will be bittersweet. It will be amazing, exciting and life-changing. It will be stressful, chaotic and sleep-depriving. It will be a wonderful bonding experience for us, our friends and our family. But, someone will be missing. My heart literally aches every time I reflect on the fact that Dad won't get to meet my kids. Or in the same token, my kids won't get to meet my Dad, their Grandpa Miller. There are no words to surround that void.
This has been one of my biggest struggles for me when mourning the loss of my Dad. Aside from the mere and simple fact that I just miss him.
I can't get into it more because I'll fall apart. It's just what's been on my mind. No, I'm not pregnant (I KNOW some of you were thinking it!) but everyone else either is, was, or is trying to be so it projects my mind to the distant future. I know Dad will be watching from up in heaven and he'll have good seats for when it happens, but selfishly, it's not good enough for me. It's not good enough for my future kids. So today? Today I'm wallowing… and probably emotionally eating.