There are certain things in life that should be full of joy. Christmas comes to mind. Birthdays and graduations. And baby showers. Unfortunately, baby showers just make me sad these days.
I'm very happy for my friends who are welcoming a new little one (or sometimes, ones) into their lives, but it just reminds me that I'm not going to experience that again.
Little P is our miracle baby. A beautiful, smart and really funny little girl. We are truly blessed to have her in our lives. And I know there are a lot of women who can't get pregnant, and I really am thankful I was able to experience it once. I know I really shouldn't be greedy and want another miracle. But I do. And I know it just won't happen again.
Logically I know it's nothing I can control, it is what it is. And most days, I'm okay with that. But the thought that I can't give Little P a baby brother or sister just tears me up sometimes. I feel like a failure - as a woman, as a wife and as a mother. I know I shouldn't, but with things like this, knowing doesn't make it any easier.
For the most part, I'm at peace with it - I guess it's because I'm don't have to face it on a daily basis. But some days, like today, it's just really, really hard. To be surrounded by women who are pregnant, and trying ever so hard not to become a hot mess and burst into tears in front of them, takes all that I have.
I want to be able to 'ooh, and aah' over the adorable little clothes. I want to giggle over the cute little shoes and the itty bitty hats. I want to share in their joy. But it hurts.
Lately, I find myself avoiding the baby section in stores, making excuses not to spend one on one time with friends who are pregnant, and just in general, trying to prevent the flood gates from opening. Today, however, was just too much for me to handle.
I contemplated not going, reasoning that I'm just putting myself into a situation that I can't handle. And to be honest, I didn't. While I was there, I was so pre-occupied with Little P (who was far from her normal, happy self) that I was able to delude myself into thinking I was okay with this. And then it hit me. Surrounded not just by the couple whose shower it was, but by at least three others, it was just more than I could bare.
Fortunately (?), Little P hit melt down mode, and I was given the chance to escape. I barely made it to my car before I was a balling mess. And baby girl? Her melt down ended the minute mine started. 'What happened?' was all she kept asking. And her blubbering mother couldn't do much more than say 'It's okay. Mommy's okay.'
By the time we got home, I was cried out, and Little P was cranky once more (my, how the balance of power sifts so quickly). I know it's going to be a long road. And short of living on an island somewhere, I'm always going to see pregnant women. I know that. I accept it. I just really, really don't like it.
So, my dear friends, bare with me over the next couple of months. Those of you who are expecting, please don't think I'm ignoring you when you invite me to come to lunch. It's really not you - it's totally me (and trust me, when I get the water works going, I really am a hot mess).
Okay. Enough of this.
Time to switch it up.
Here's something to look forward to - my next post - it's about poop!
Till next time - keep the kleenex handy, I'm gonna need it.