All I Can Think Of

Why when you can't have something, is it all you can think of?
The mothers to-be with bumps,
Babies in prams,
Toddlers with their smiles and tantrums,
Young children you can at last reason with,
Proud parents beaming at each other - look; we made that!

And me?
No bump.  Not anymore. 
Maybe never.  Hopefully someday.
The hint of one.  Twice now but never fulfilled.
Hopes and dreams stopped in their tracks;
No pram or crib buying for us,
No touching of a bump or the inquisitive questions;
When are you due?  How do you feel?  Boy or girl?

Empty. Lost. Alone. Sad.
Sympathetic friends and family.
No words can be found.
I understand.  I wouldn't have known either.
How can you grieve something that never was?
No breath.  No sound.  No presence.
I grieve the possibility.
The what could have been and what wasn't.
A son?  A daughter?  Who knows? 
My child.

Those smiling parents don't mean to hurt.
What have they gone through to get there?
I hope not much.
A physical pain wouldn't hurt as much as this.
So I smile at them, say the right things,
Coo over their newborns and laugh at their toddlers' antics.
I buy the baby gifts for the mum-to-be friends,
Ask all the questions I long to be asked.
They smile in return; 
But sadly.

Nothing anyone can say.
I and so many others carry the weight around with us.
Will it happen again?
The hope followed by the deep disappointment?
Will I ever be a mother?
I'd be a good mother.
Will I make my partner a father?
He'd be a good father.
All I want.
All I can think of.