Time Travel, and Other Impossibilities

I'm crying. I just saw yet another pregnancy announcement on Facebook and it hit me. Hard. And it's suddenly all too much. I'm spotting, because my period is coming. Because I'm not pregnant anymore and it's awful and I'm sad and I'm crying. I just wish things were different, that I hadn't lost our baby, that my faith wasn't crippled by an overwhelming sense of despair.

I want our baby back. I want to go back in time and relive those 2 weeks all over again, those two precious weeks when we thought we were going to be parents. When our dream had become reality, finally, after so long. I want to go back to reading pregnancy books, and pouring over name options, and the happiness, oh my god, the sheer joy, it was intoxicating. Those two weeks were so short, and went by so fast. I didn't appreciate them enough. I was so worried about miscarriage, so preoccupied with the possibility of my pregnancy ending that I didn't revel in the NOW enough. But the now has become something I wish I could erase and all I want to do is go back in time to Sept. 19. Maybe if I could go back somehow, it would have a different outcome. Like in the movies, maybe if I did one thing differently, the now, today, would be different, too. Maybe our baby would be growing stronger by the day, maybe our dreams wouldn't be shattered in to a million tiny little fragments of light.

I want something I can't ever have. I can't go back in time. Nothing I do will change what is. I feel like I spend so much time on my knees, begging, pleading, praying to God for a child. I got my child - yes, my prayers were answered - but our child is in Heaven, and it's not right, it's not how it was supposed to end, and yet...

And yet.