Yes.  Painfully so.

I am jealous.  And I am sad.  Another one of my co-workers announced her pregnancy at 6 1/2 weeks.  She hasn't been to see a doctor yet, but figured it was in her best interest to explain why she was eating or puking so much.  So, she announces it with a cute little poem letting all in our school know that there are now four babies due by September of this year.  Four beautiful bellies full of life and love.  And not one of them is mine.  :(

I know, I know.  I do not know their stories.  But yes, I do know most of them.  Actually, all of them.  There haven't been any losses.  No one has been actively trying for a long time.  And yes, I do want to be happy for all of them.  No, I am happy for all of them.  But it hurts.  Still.  After all this time.  Yuck.  Jealousy sucks.

Four babies.  Four babies that I want to go home with their mommies when they are ready.  Four babies that are so wanted.  Four babies that are the talk of the school.  I try so hard to be supportive.  I want so desperately to be excited and share in their excitement.  But I can't....not everyday.  It just exhausts me.  I can't handle complaints about being sick every single day.  I don't want to hear talk about how you are so glad that you are having this first baby in your twenties.  I just don't.

I tried to have a baby in my twenties...and I was sick almost everyday of that pregnancy, but my baby didn't live.  My story no one wants to talk about.  No one wants to hear about how it was for me.  It scares them.  I hear comments about how "normal" it is to be sick everyday.  I want to scream, "THERE IS NO NORMAL!  YOUR BABY CAN DIE JUST LIKE MINE DID.  OR JUST LIKE SO MANY OF MY FRIENDS DID."  But I don't.  I say hardly anything....until....

Yep, there was a point yesterday when I finally had had enough.  The age comment came up again, and I had just had it.  I tried to be tactful, but I was frustrated.  So, I pointed out to my pregnant co-worker (who is also a friend) that there were people in the room who did not have children and were in their thirties.  I regretted it immediately.  I had put myself into that category.  I had said or admitted to not having children.  My co-worker kind of laughed it off, and said, "I was talking about me."  Oh, yes.  The pregnant mother who only thinks of herself.  How soon I forget.  (On a side note, I apologize to any BLM who is reading this and is currently pregnant with your rainbow baby.  This is not a tirade against you.  Circumstances are different.)

So, last night I came home and decided that it was okay to be sad.  After all, it's February.  Kennedy's due date month.  The month I lost my Grams.  The month that my cousins are expecting their first child, a girl (same due date as Kennedy).  Besides,  I have like a bazillion other people in my life who are expecting baby girls who aren't baby loss mamas. My job is very stressful.  An old co-worker of mine is dying of brain cancer.  Etc. Etc.   So, it's starting to wear on me.  Just a bit.  Actually, quite a bit.

I'm incredibly jealous.  I just want things to be easy.  I want them to be simple.  Sweet.  Wonderful.  Is there such a thing?  Is there such a time?  I want my cake and to eat it too.  When will it be my time?  I want to be blissful.  Full of love.  Full of happiness.  And full of dreams that came true.  Why does it feel like so many others get that, but I don't.  Okay...the more I write, the less I like myself.  So, I should probably stop.  Again, to reiterate, it just hurts.  Jealousy hurts.  It hurts most because I feel like there is nothing I can do to make it better or make it go away.