I try to be super positive on this blog. I want this space to be about health and hope. But I also want to be honest. And if I’m being honest right now, I’d say that I’m having a crappy day. So this is where I’ll issue a warning: if you don’t want to read a Debbie Downer post, halt!
I’ve always been an envious person. Of all the seven deadly sins, I’ve got that one on lock. I am not at all proud of it, but there it is: my biggest fault. Now that I’m so keen to have a baby, and it hasn’t happened for me right away, I’ve been trying hard to keep this bad tendency in check. I mean, there’s always going to be someone I know who’s pregnant. And there’s always going to be someone I know who got pregnant in the first month of trying. I could drive myself straight into the nuthouse if I let myself be envious of every pregnant woman in the universe. Usually, I do a good job of containing these feelings. I am, after all, truly happy for the women I know who are having babies. And I do believe that it will happen for me too at some point.
But today, I don’t know. Blah.
A few people I’m acquainted with, in the blog world and otherwise, have had babies in the last few days. Baby extravaganza! And as I’m sharing in their excitement, I’m listening carefully to what they’re saying. Sometimes they say things like “I didn’t really know love until I held my child,” or something along those lines. A cliché, yes, but all clichés are rooted in some truth. And while I do not begrudge these new mothers their joy, I can’t help but feel envious of it. The green-eyed monster is like, oh, hello.
And if it’s at all true that one does not really know love until they’ve held their child, then where does that leave me? And where does that leave the women who can’t have children? While I’m sure none of us are loveless, are we missing out on some elemental part of life?
It’s these thoughts, my friends, that are bringing me down.