I want a baby so badly that it hurts. I'm terrified I won't ever get that chance. It's not like they come easily to me; some people just seem to pop them out, no problems, no consideration, no base IQ level necessary. It makes me wonder why God would put Jerry and I through so much. It's that very last part of winter, when I feel like spring is never going to come and nothing good will ever happen to us. When I feel like I'm not going to make it: through nursing school, marriage, or my life. I feel so alone sometimes, so tired of fighting. Next month would've been my little boy's fifth birthday. I wonder what he would be like today, where we would be if he hadn't died. What would I be like? Five years later, I am still amazed at the complete fallout, the destruction that has ensued in the five years since. That loss seems to epitomize every aspect of my personality, my daily life-and not in a positive way. I wouldn't take knowing him away for the world, but sometimes I wish that loss wasn't always the first thing in front of me when I open my eyes in the morning. It feels like longer than five years since I've seen him and much shorter--like five weeks--since he was taken from me. I had fifteen days. That's it! How can I miss someone so deeply who was here so briefly? I miss him so badly that it hurts to breathe. If I was able to apply the "break up rule" to this situation, I would've been over this in fifteen days. It takes the same length of time you were together to get over it, right? I figured out a long time ago that I won't be getting over it. Everyone will just assume that I am and shrug and say, "What's her problem?"