Disclaimer: this blog post may sound like it's about you. It may actually BE about you. Please know that if it is about you, or you perceive it to be, I love you very much and I am very happy for you. If this is not yet about you, but there might be news to share, don't refrain from telling me because you don't want to make me feel bad -- I can take it, and I want to celebrate with you. And I'm gonna find out anyway.
I strive to be a good person. To give others the benefit of the doubt. To own my crap. And in this struggle to become a mom, I think I've been pretty damn graceful. Since I have a glass-half-full mentality of the world and since I try and gather a life lesson at every opportunity, I think that helps. But some days suck. And sometimes they suck because it feels like everyone has what I can't get.
Over the last two weeks, at least 87* people I know have announced that they or their partner/spouse is expecting a baby. Some were trying. Most weren't. Some have been married for 1/10 as long as Bill and I have been married. Some probably got pregnant on the first try. One announced a pregnancy pretty darn early, which is awesome for her, but a reminder that I was so jaded from our losses and terrified at each pregnancy that I would NEVER have announced until at least 12-15 weeks, had I ever made it that far along. One shared that his wife is expecting their third and while my lips said, "that is SO wonderful! congratulations!" my head said, "your third?! Don't you think you're being a bit greedy?!"
Babies are awesome and all of these people are pretty cool, so their kids will also be cool and it'll be really cool to have so many more cool people in the world. (Maybe we've just solved the global warming crisis by bringing all this cool to the earth. You're welcome, Al Gore.) And I know that logically all these pregnancies and babies isn't taking a child away from me. But it's hard to believe in some order to the universe, some greater karmic give and take, when I feel consistently denied parenthood at every turn on this journey while others have too much tequila to ring in the new year and are now sharing the good news about little Jose Cuervo** who they expect to arrive in the fall.
If you think I'm mad at you, read the disclaimer. No. I'm just pissed at the unfairness of the situation and I'm sick of waiting and I have a house full of baby stuff and a sweet nursery and I just want to be a mom before I'm 87***, dammit.
I'll hug you. I'll go to your baby shower. I'll get you a pretty fabulous gift, since I am probably the only non-parent expert on baby products. I'll bring you a great big casserole this fall or winter when little Jose is born. And I will do all of this out of love for you and your super cool baby, even if on the inside, sometimes I want to scream.
*numbers may be inflated for effect. I don't care.
** joke stolen from a friend who did once say she should name her son Jose Cuervo based on his conception story.
*** numbers better be WAAAAY f@$&ing inflated, or I'm going to kill something.