HELP – The Whole World Is Pregnant

Ok – the WHOLE world isn’t pregnant, but it certainly feels that way.  While I was pregnant and still filled with hope for the future, the fact that so many people around me were pregnant or had young babies was exciting.  I’m not one to fixate on fitting in normally, but this was something I was looking forward to.  My husband’s twin sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, my godson, back in January.  It was just days before we broke the news that we were expecting a baby that would join this adorable new generation.  My nephew/godson is amazing.

A few months ago, my husband’s younger brother and his sweet wife announced that they too were expecting a baby around Christmastime this year.  I was so excited.  I couldn’t wait to help her pick out maternity clothes and to have someone else join this little club.  We were all having babies in the same order/timing we got married a couple of years ago.  This felt so right.  At the same time, 3 out of 7 wives in my husband’s group of southern friends were pregnant.  One gave birth just the day before we lost Isaac.  Her daughter is precious.  Another is due just two weeks after I was due in September.  Our kids were supposed to grow up together.  Even celebrities seem to be joining in on the trend.

This situation was perfect . . . when I was still part of the club.  Now it is torture.  I am so painfully jealous of my friends and family with their perfect chubby babies and still cute baby bumps.  I don’t do well with pregnant women and babies at the moment.  I have avoided baby sections in the few stores I’ve visited like the plague.  The grief specialist had to take me in through the back entrance to ensure I didn’t see any of the mothers with babies that the other doctors in the practice treat.  I haven’t even been able to talk to my still pregnant sister-in-law since we lost Isaac.  I’d love to call her and vent and let her know how much I love her, how much I hope she is doing well.  Right now, I just can’t bear it.

I want to be these girls, but instead, I am sitting here wondering if I will ever know what it’s like to give birth to a chubby screaming baby of my own.  My mother promises me that I will, but no one can promise that.  I have an unfortunate collection of genetic “stuff” and now a history of Preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome.  I have a 1 in 4 chance of getting sick again, and if it happens, it is likely to happen earlier in pregnancy.  At 32 weeks, Isaac would have needed some NICU time, but had such a high chance of survival.  Earlier will complicate things.

All I want is to turn back the clock.  I want to rejoin the pregnant girl/newborn baby club.  Having so many pregnant women around me doesn’t feel as amazing anymore.

5 thoughts on “HELP – The Whole World Is Pregnant

  1. I feel you! They are everywhere, and like you when I was pregnant I was so happy that Cora (our daughter) would have so many friends. Now people due after us are just around the corner and it stings like hell. Of course I want them to have a healthy baby but we deserved to too! It’s so very hard and I just hope one day the jealously will subside….it’s hard to see now though!

    Like

    • What a beautiful name. I’ve heard the jealousy can be long lasting. I do hope it passes. I think our friend and your friends do understand though. The lady at the store with her newborn baby may not understand my jealous glare but as long as I don’t break down until I’ve gotten to my car I call it a good day. So sorry you are going through this.

      Like

  2. Pingback: When You Have to Avoid Your Favorite (Internet) Things | Letters to Isaac

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s