Sitting in the labour and delivery room at the hospital with my sister. My mum, who is also pregnant, just showed up. I’m smiling, and carrying on conversations, but inside? I am in hell.
I guess I’m a very selfish and mean person because I don’t think it’s fair. I don’t think it’s fair that I was the one who was actively trying to get pregnant, but instead God not only blessed one of my family members, but two with the gift that I had been praying for, for YEARS.
I hate feeling this way. I am beyond happy for them, but at the same time I’m over here struggling to keep my composure and not burst into tears. It’s not fair that I’m the one who has to go through this pain. It’s not fair that each month I take dose after dose of medication and pray so fervently that God will bless me with a child.
I changed my eating habits, I changed my lifestyle. This was supposed to be my moment, or like my moment, where everyone shows up to the hospital because they’re excited for the new baby. But it’s not. It’s not my baby, it’s not my moment, and I won’t even pretend to understand why I’m in this situation. I don’t see in just black and white anymore. I look around and I wonder just how many women are in my shoes.
How many women go through the channels on tv and see a newborn baby on one of those nappy commercials, and you just feel your heart tear into pieces inside your chest. You can’t walk down the baby aisles because you know that if you buy it and it doesn’t happen yet again, you’ll be left looking at that item knowing that it’s still just an item and not YOUR baby’s. How many women have cried themselves to sleep at night because all they want is to start a family? I’m so happy, but I’m not.
Here I am, listening to them talk and joke around, but I feel like the joke is on me and sometimes I wonder if God is listening to me. Please tell me i’m not alone.
