I read something on another babyloss site that struck a chord with me.
I am going to try again. But I can’t imagine having a healthy, living baby. I also can’t imagine having another dead baby. I can’t imagine either situation, not in the least. Both seem outrageous, one seems impossible, the other too unbearable.
One thing I can imagine, and it haunts me day and night, is a graveyard full my dead babies. Avalon’s stone next to another stone, next to another stone. I see them filling up our family plot, those other stones just waiting for another name.
But I can’t imagine living through all of this again. I can’t imagine bearing the pain. I am more unlucky than I ever imagined I could be, and naively perhaps, I can’t imagine being that unlucky.
But a screaming, living baby born alive, placed on my chest, or handed to me pink and breathing all bundled up? It seems the stuff of mere fantasy. Those things happy to lucky people. Not people like me.
Mother of All Things 
I feel the exact same. ‘Surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to do this to me AGAIN./OF COURSE it will happen again! How could I expect anything different?!!’
Living through two funerals, I can testify that even after having two babies die the want to be a parent doesn’t diminish. The question is, Do I dare try?