I'm tired. weary. sad.

I'm cleaning out the basement.  Something I've been trying to do for almost a year.  

Mostly there are baby clothes, maternity clothes and baby toys that I need to go through.

Most of the maternity clothes are brand new, from a baby that only lived inside of me for eight weeks.  There are tiny brand new clothes clothes were meant for a baby that I can't hold in my arms right now, a baby that is only a memory.  There is a dress that is 16 years old.  There are two teen boys out there that once hid inside that damn ugly maternity dress that I can't get rid of.  I wish I could see those boys this Christmas.  I can only dream about it as I have for the past 14 years.   

Such an ugly dress.  But so beautiful really.  That girl was beautiful.  What was inside her was beautiful.  That smile, it was not clouded with the trauma that befell her just weeks later, trauma that haunts me today.  The picture on the right was from the Elya.  That picture is beautiful to me too.  A beautiful tiny little life inside me that no one will ever know.  Elya's presence is missed in the house today.  Would she be annoying me trying to take the ornaments off the tree or marveling at the lights on it?   

There is no hope for any more children to come from my womb, and so I want everything out of my house.  It's just stuff.  It will never replace what I've lost.  I want to stop the pain.  I want to be free of the hurt that I know will never go away.  I hope that getting rid of these things will help, even though I know it won't.  

What I really want is my babies back, all three that I've lost.  I want to be a mommy to them.  I want all five of my children to be celebrating Christmas with us this year. 

But instead I'm just so very tired.