What if I spend the rest of my life looking in the eyes of every young boy I estimate to be born in January 2015 to see if he has my eye color or that of my son?
This isn't how I expected it would be. I was cautiously excited when I learned she was pregnant. I knew the circumstances weren't ideal, yet MY SON was having a baby. A child that shared my genes, possibly my hair color, maybe a tiny part of me. We learned the baby was a boy and they chose a name. Then she decided "yes, a baby was good by not with him".
I foolishly began to buy clothes and allowed my heart to get more and more attached. I know the statistics are against me ever having a relationship with a child that is being carried by a woman who is no longer involved with my son EXCEPT as often as I explain that to my heart I find myself wandering to the baby section of every store I'm in. I carry the itty bitty sleepers around for a few minutes before reality quickly reminds me he'll likely never wear them and I quietly put them back on the rack.
Everyday my heart shatters into millions of pieces and everyday I glue it back together with tears and pretend she isn't carrying a new tiny shard of it in her belly until he is born in January and I begin to watch for the face of the sweet boy that I will instinctively know belongs to me.