Right Number, Wrong Table

I was talking to Chowder last night and told him he was right. After this pregnancy is said and done, I'm done. I've had enough. I'm crying uncle.

I'm not particularly sweet and sentimental about my lost babies. I never picture them as little angels or being rocked in God's arms. Sadly, I picture them as simply lost. As I was thinking on and praying about this, the number seven suddenly jumped out at me. This will be my seventh lost one. I'm beginning to think that the dining table in my dreams is actually my Welcoming Table. And this dream is my way of visiting with them. Well, this loss will fill the last seat at the table. So, I think it is time to just sit down and eat.