Never Met (Revisited)

My favourite part of love? The "Falling In" bit. It's always the most exciting aspect of the bigger picture. The thrill of the chase. But when it's a friend, a lover or a child, the type of love differs. But one question remains: Can you love someone you've never met? Before their heart even beats? Before their eyes ever open? Ask any mother-to-be and they'll tell you. Ask any mother thats suffered the loss of their childs life, before it even began, and they'll leave you with tears in your eyes. Yes, of course, it's possible to love someone you've never met. If they're from your own genes, made with your own love, and grow inside you, then you already do know them and how could you resist loving them? But to spend months awaiting such a miracle, to have it ripped from under you, could only leave you falling. And what's going to happen when you hit the bottom?

I didn't wake up screaming. I didn't bolt upright in bed, hyperventilating. My eyes opened, and my heart raced, but I remained curled on my side, blankets over my head. Tears streaked my cheeks, sticking my hair to them. I sniffed miserably, and hugged myself tightly around the middle. It was unbearably flat. I felt hollow, empty. This brought on a fresh round of tears, and soon the sobs followed, shaking me from the inside out. I couldn't remember the horrible nightmare that I'd woken from, but I knew what it had to be about. I'd had the same dream, for months. It used to be a treasured glimpse of my future, what my life would be like when my beautiful baby girl arrived. Now all it did was remind me of what I'd never see. I heard rustling around my room, and the sound of a blind being tugged furiously, before it gave way, and wound itself upward. I curled in on myself, even though my blanket kept the dark out. I felt pressure on the bed to my left, and I rolled towards it as the matress gave way beneath it slightly. The covers were ripped from my hands, and I cringed against the light, and the sting of air on my hot tears.
"I think it's about time you got UP, Miss," He said, quietly, clutching my blanket in his hands, as though I might reach for it again. Like I had before....
I stared at him, through a tangle of hair, and for once didn't see a painful reminder, the father of my unborn and never to be born child. I saw the man I loved, tired and worn out looking. Deep circles under his eyes, and stress IN his eyes. Panic and worry creased his forehead into a frown as he looked at me. I reached out to touch his cheek, and was shocked to feel wetness beneath my fingertips. My eyes widened and tears welled. God, I was so selfish. Sure, the suffering was considered mostly to be mine. After all, I'd carried our child inside me for the extent of it's short life. But he was hurting to. I got to hold our baby, in some way, whereas he would never have that honour. And I repaid him by moping around, withdrawn and depressed, leaving him to do everything, as I ditched my routine to mourn. On top of all this, his grief, he had to worry about me. I sighed and realised, yes, he was right. It was time to get up.

We sat in front of the doctor, behind his desk, yet again. My hair was brushed, and I was dressed in clean clothes. In my previous visits, since the "incident" this had not been the case. As soon as we'd stepped through the door, the doctor has rushed at me with a box of tissues, anticipating the flood his presence brought on, but I shook my head, smiling weakly. How long had I been like this? A sobbing train wreck? I couldn't help but be disgusted with myself. And then more disgusted for not still being that way, still mourning my baby. Why should I live on, when I've had a full, happy life, and she had not? I blinked, and clutched at my fiancees hand. He squeezed back. The doctor smiled at me tentatively, still waiting for the tears. I knew he had something to say, otherwise we wouldn't be here. So I decided to give him a push.
"So, what are we here for?"
He looked at me, shocked. Had it been that long since I communicated directly? My disgust increased.
"I brought you here to discuss some options you have. Your.. Misscarriage.. was a one off. It had nothing to do with your or your fiancees genetics. It was merely a cruel act of nature. I was wondering.. If you might be willing to try again?" He finished, quietly, looking at me carefully.
My jaw dropped, and beside me my fiancees face lit up with hope. He squeezed my hand excitedly and turned toward me, so I quickly arranged my face into an appropriate expression, while my insides remained in turmoil.
Would I put us through that again?

Could I go through that again?