When you've suffered a great loss, even a simple thing like reading a newspaper becomes difficult, as you're never sure where you're going to encounter fodder for heartache. I've learned that even in the sports section, you can find something that just sucker punches you in an unexpected way.

I was reading about Ty Wigginton, a player for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, and the story was about how he delivered his second son. Just reading about him and his wife, and their shared experience reminded me of everything I missed out on, and I'm still missing out on. While I love Baby Girl more than life itself, I was never the "I want a bay-by!!!" type of girl. I wanted a baby with him.

It might seem like that's the same thing, but it's not. I wanted us to share doctors' visits, to be awed together at the picture of the sonogram, to be able to tell our kids about the night they were born. I wanted to see him cuddle his daughter, to see them fall asleep together, to take pictures of the two most important people in my life.

And all that was shattered in a the blink of an eye.

I don't know what tomorrow holds. I don't know if I am going to have more kids (I do hope so, though). All I do know is that even if I do have other kids, I know the fear that I will lose one of them, or the father, will never be far. It'll always be lurking around, skulking in the corners. And even if we do all the couple-y stuff (going to the sonogram together, our first picture as a family, etc.), that won't change the fact that I was supposed to have all that with Pablo.