"They were sportsing pretty hard out there. They did the thing, and won the points."

I work in a hotel renowned for being haunted.  You can rent ghost hunting kits for your stay.  The maid's closet is at the top of the stairs, with a perfect view of the ac vent.  During the summer guests come up, spot me folding sheets and say in awe; "Do you feel that?!  There's a cold draft as soon as you enter!!"  They are lucky to get an "Mmmhmmm.." from me.

If I want to see ghosts, I do it in my own house.  The baby cardboard books I have kept out for far too long. (The idea was she would be able to practice reading with them.  Then she just skipped right over that need and is reading like nobody's business.) The plastic kitchen G is almost too tall to enjoy.  The gender neutral tricycle 'in case the next one is a boy'.  We cleaned out the downstairs storage room to sheet rock and paint it and I spent the entire time leaking from my eyeballs.  Just rivers flowing down my face.  All of G's baby stuff, conveniently stored in case it is ever needed.  Easy access.  Tears leaked from my eyes the entire time.  And I was caught completely off guard. I wasn't getting rid of this stuff, just moving it from one place to another.  But with that movement came the realization that I will have to go through these things, choose what to keep, what to save, and what to get rid of, because none of it will ever be used again.  

At some point.  I will have to utter the words; No, we have unexplained secondary infertility. in response to the well intentioned question Will you be having more kids?  

G is an only child.  G will always be an only child.  Genetically speaking at least.  My BFF tentatively asks how I am doing with the latest loss and the decision my husband needs to get a vasectomy.  "I still haven't given up hope the universe will make this right somehow."  I haven't, inexplicably.  I wonder how the apology will manifest itself.  Silly self important human.   The universe owes me nothing.  My cup runneth over.