Friday, August 13, 2010


I'm usually really good at distancing myself from my own pain when friends have babies. I genuinely share in their joy and I have no trouble wishing for their own happiness despite my own painful journey. Their journey is different and I would never ever want anyone to walk this path.

Today things were different.

I fully recognize the blessing that my friend and her husband have gotten and I truly feel nothing but joy for them, but there is a dark shadow that hangs over her name in my mind.

We've been friends since middle school. She lived an hour away and I only got to visit her when I stayed with my grandmother, but when we were together we were great friends. When Hubby and I got married Hubby went to basic training and I stayed with my grandmother while he was gone. When he came back we got the only real positive pregnancy test I have ever gotten. My friend at the time was pregnant and I was overjoyed to be able to share such a special time with her.

By the time I got to the doctor I wasn't pregnant anymore and she still was. It made my loss even more painful. I felt like the only girl in class that didn't get a birthday party invitation. I haven't talked to her since. I follow her on facebook, but I carefully avoid all of the pictures of her little boy, and I don't actually talk to her, I just keep up with how she and her family are doing.

Yesterday she gave birth to her second son. I'm so happy for them. He's beautiful and I couldn't help but look at her new profile picture. I clicked on it to see it in full size and all I could do was stare.

The new baby didn't upset me, but looking into the eyes of that new big brother took my breath away. All I could think of was "My baby should be that big."

I looked at his hands and his ears thinking about how our son or daughter would look now and a familiar ache settled into my heart. I hate that I can't be as close to my friends as I used to be. I hate that pang of jealousy I feel and the anger and frustration that almost always follows these moments.

It's days like this that I realize infertility robs us all of so much more than just holding our child in our arms.

As if that wasn't enough.

1 comment:

Kristin said...

Oh honey, I wish I was there to give you a great big hug.