Strapped down, drugged, and tired I watched as my husband left the room. I still split open. Him carrying my beautiful Sprout. The pressure of hands diligently putting me back together tugged at my empty belly. I kept my breathing light, waiting for the words that I’d prayed for, I’d begged for. When they came, I was left dumb. “Are you certain you want to do this?” mumbled the voice of my OB, bringing me the opportunity I’d longed for in secret. The opportunity, I reluctantly and painfully, turned down. The room went to work and I asked my anesthesiologist to put my guilt-ridden heart to sleep. After not desiring…