My best friend is having a baby.
Have I mentioned this? I must have at some point…
Anyway, she found out she was pregnant about a week before I did in August, making her due date about 10 days earlier than mine was. It was exciting to be pregnant together, even though this was her second child and she and I had started trying at the same time nearly four years ago. We were even talking about having our ultrasound tech friend perform our gender scans at the same time so we could find out together what our babies would be.
And then I miscarried. My baby died.
Thankfully, hers is still healthy…
Now I feel like it’s hard to talk to her… Not at all because she makes me uncomfortable about her pregnancy – it’s quite the opposite, in fact. When we talk, she doesn’t bring up her pregnancy at all, and I feel like a jerk when I hang up for not asking how she is feeling, or what’s been happening in that regard.
I know she doesn’t think I’m a jerk, and I know she gets how awful the miscarriage was, and I’m sure that she understands how difficult it must be for me to hear about her milestones when I know that’s where I should be – would have been – too.
I got a text from her last night, letting me know that baby # 2 is another little girl.
I thought Gummy Bear was a girl, too. They would have been besties, just like us.
I was so sad last night… I try really hard not to have pity parties for myself, but that just caught me off guard. I know that Thanksgiving is going to go by in a blur because of the move, but I think that once we are settled in the new house, Christmas is going to be a little tough. Holidays that are all about children are difficult to navigate for us Infertiles, and even more so for recent miscarriage survivors.
I had plans for this cute pregnancy test Christmas tree ornament and everything. Ugh.
Maybe I’ll just gold-plate a Menopur vial and hang that on the tree…
At least December will bring back the cycling routine, and with it, the feeling of working toward that take-home baby once again.
To my friend, if she is reading: I love you, and I love your kiddo and that new baby girl you’re carrying. Life is hard, and you’ve known me for most of mine. I will get better, one day. Until then, please stick with me and know that I’m really trying.
Every day I walk that razor-thin line between “happy for you” and “sad for me”.
Someday things will be less bitter, and more sweet.
Someday… hopefully soon.
Just Stop Trying and It Will Happen... 