Please

It's like an unspeakable itch that can't be fully scratched, this desire for a second child.
Like a a broken faucet drip-dropping in the back of my head but cannot be stopped.
Everywhere I look, there are either family with multiple children closely set in age, or a pregnant mom with a belly big and round in front and a toddler no older than my own following her.
When I had the false positive a while back, it was not a sense of excitement that went through me, but a serenity. I was fulfilled. A missing piece was found. I was whole. I was content. I could let go of my baby making obsession. Everything was as it should be. Yes, the house still needs cleaning, work still needs to be done, and the laundry that's been sitting in the baskets since Sunday still needs to be folded. But, a second child was coming, and the world was all right.
The sense of completeness went down the toilet, figuratively and in actuality within two weeks.
Here I am, again, tilted. Weighed to the side by the burning want to bear a sister/brother for my oldest.
Calendars were consulted. Actions were taken. Omens were sought. If only it would happen.