Micheal and I say, "Fake it till you make it." I don't remember when we first used that phrase, but I tell him I do it when I know that whatever I am feeling won't serve me. I'm doing it now because his mom is pregnant. It turns out that Micheal will have a brother or sister afterall, but it won't be my child. I know that I will hear about it as I do now of the cat at his mom's house. I will hear about how it's growing, what it's doing, how it makes him laugh and maybe I will always think that it is not my child. So I am faking it, pretending I don't feel anything, or pretending joy, inviting love to be the feeling that I have for all of life that arrives, in whatever form. Because ultimately, in the end, it will be love that I have wanted to feel more than loss and more than sorrow.
