Yesterday afternoon, I received a text message with a photo from my Aunt (yes, she’s THAT modern). The photo was of my cousin’s minutes-old baby and the text was a proud boast from my Aunt about being a grandmother again (this is number 8).
A few years ago, this exact message would have made me jump for joy, run out to buy a present and hop in the car on the way to my cousin’s place to go give that baby a squeeze.
Now things are different. Instead, I deleted the message and spent the rest of the afternoon in tears.
Not only do I mourn my babies that never were, but I also mourn the ability to enjoy other babies. I truly wish that I could have looked at that photo and felt joy. I wish that I could look beyond the fact that I was pregnant at the same time as my cousin and that she got to keep her baby. I wish that I did not resent her for holding a baby in her arms as I choke back tears. I wish that I could see, squeeze and cuddle all of my friends’ kids. I’m still not ready.
I’m trying. I was very proud of myself for cuddling my friend’s one year old the other day. That is a huge step for me. I may have cried on the way home, but I did enjoy it in the moment. Maybe there’s hope for this lady after all. I’ll accept the tears when they flow, try to stay positive even when it’s impossible and look forward. I will have a family. I can’t choose when.