The days leading up to tomorrow have been hard, emotionally hard. I’ve been trying to stay afloat, to keep it all together, because life goes on. I wake up in the mornings and go to work, a job I genuinely enjoy going back to. I do the dishes, the laundry, and try my utmost best to manage the household I share with a wonderful husband. I feed Chubby, my sourdough starter, who is both spoiled and stubborn. I keep myself busy, learning new things, creating, doing my best to fill the void. But the harder I try not to think about it, the tears are always just a thought away.

It’s been ten years now. Ten years of grieving something I never had. Of losing someone who never even existed. It sounds invalid when I say it out loud, and yet I’ve lived this life for ten years now. I noticed I haven’t shared a blog in two years. Maybe because I’m married now, busy with work, and a “vacational” stepmom. But beyond being busy and lacking time, I also became more cautious, thinking about how my sharing might affect those around me or the people involved in my stories. Still, I miss processing my feelings through writing. I could keep a journal, of course, but there is just something different about sharing.

Life has changed so much. I’ve gone through many trials and errors on how to move forward with this life, and all of them been paving my path ahead. Notice how I’ve changed the name of this blog… I’m still biologically childless. Unfortunately. For ten years now, I’ve known the chances were small, yet for most of those 120 months I held onto the hope of a small miracle.

Most of my friends are raising their second child now. Some are just figuring out motherhood with a newborn or a toddler. Others are childless by choice, or still trying. My mom-friends are often exhausted, longing for rest, sometimes even wondering why they started this journey in the first place. And they carefully share those feelings with me. I can imagine how they feel and sometimes, if I’m honest, I’m even glad to be biologically childless.

But every story has two sides. As exhausted as mothers might be, I know they are also grateful for the chance to be a mom. And as much as I’ve accepted my situation and learned to live with it, I still can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a child of my own. I’ve only dreamt about it three times already and I’m ready for the next, because that’s all I have. My childless friends don’t share as much (as I do). That’s understandable. This journey can get quiet lonely sometimes, even with all the love, support and understanding I receive from those around me.

Bearing this grief has gotten easier. You learn to live with it. You learn how to navigate the hard days and the occasional comments. I guess practice does make perfect after so long. Some days it’s more present than others. Maybe less noticeable on the surface now, but deep inside, it’s still there. A small part of, an other than that, pretty great life.