Maybe it'd get better

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, next month, we'd get lucky.

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, once we get married, legally blessed.

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, when we move into our new house, a new life.

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, soon, when IUI works.

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, as long as whatever works, to make me carry a baby just like so many other women.

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, when I see that CC is still living.

Maybe it'd get better, I thought, if I can just find a perfect OB at a perfect hospital to make sure that CC and I would be perfectly fine.

Now CC is 9 weeks old, in my belly, growing. I really thought I'd be happy by now. I thought I'd be smiling this moment, dancing the next. But I worry things would go wrong with CC. I worry something would happen during delivery. Perhaps when CC finally comes, I'd then worry that he'd get sick. I'd worry when he grows bigger and wonders off from me. I'd worry when he wants to go on his own life adventure.

Maybe it'd get better, when the next good thing happens, the next worry eases. But the last good thing already happened and the last worry eased. When is the time for me to finally smile and dance? To finally relax?