And then there were two

I adore my nephew.  I would give my life for him because I love him so and because I’ve no children of my own, he is the closest I’ll ever come. (I’m no weirdo.  I do not – nor ever have – fantasized or pretended that he is MY child.)

My nephew needs a sibling.  He is, because of all of us who love him, a spoiled boy and would do well to have a life-long buddy with whom to share everything with.

My sister and her hubby have been working on it for some time and as much warmth as it gives me to say she shared last night she learned yesterday morning is 6 1/2 weeks pregnant, I am equally (as usual) as heartbroken.

She was terrified to tell me.  But we are sisters and she knew she had to share her news.  In terms of our family, she & I pretty much only have each other.  

She told me in a panic.  By sending me a text message which included the sonogram photo and an apology for delivering the news that way but admitting she didn’t know how to do so.

I was 10 minutes away from meeting a friend for dinner.  Which I can now tell you is not enough time to recover from the shock.  

I know she didn’t mean to hurt me.  I believe 100% she had no idea how to tell her only & big sister that her dreams of adding a sibling for my nephew are coming true, while my heart aches for even one child – an ache that cannot be fulfilled.

I know I will love and spoil the new baby.  I know my heart will hold lots of pride for him or her. 

But I also know my heart can not be filled by my sisters wonderful news.  Her news that where there was one, there are now two.


I know what you think


You think I am moody, or selfish, or maybe, you just think I’m a bitch. You think your announcement has nothing to do with me, and therefore should not affect me.  That I should respond appropriately and smile and congratulate you, then ooh and ahh along with others.

You think it’s personal that I could not get more than one word out of my mouth, or even smile. It hurt your feelings when after sitting for as long as I could – which felt like days had passed to me – I excused myself and not only left the room, but left the office.

What I want you to know is I may be moody.  I can be selfish.  I often scold myself for being bitchy. I want you to know that I know your announcement has nothing to do with me.  And I want you to know that my reaction to your announcement in kind, has nothing to do directly with YOU.

What I want you to know is that more than a year after I was told I can not have children, I am not regularly able to watch television.  I go days & weeks away from social media and decline most invites from friends to avoid announcements like yours, photos and videos of babies & children.  

I want to tell you that I cry more than once a week – like last Friday night, at a busy restaurant, while having dinner with friends and their 3 month old.  And that more than once a week is an improvement from more than once a day. 

I want you to know that while I can be obsessed about my young nephew, I sometimes am not able to spend time with him because his little face and sweet voice hurt me deeply.

If I thought you could even remotely grasp the pain I felt ripping through me when you called an “office meeting” to announce you are pregnant with your fourth child, I would tell you that my entire body began shaking.  That I began to sweat. That I needed to run, but that I couldn’t move and then, when I could move, I knew I would be thought to be the asshole, so I sat and I endured for as long as I could. 

If I thought you could fathom how I struggled to breathe, or how I barely made it outside of the building, dropping my cellphone while trying to place a call to someone to talk me off the ledge, I would tell you that it was then that I sobbed.  Hunched in the corner of the downstairs lobby near the bathrooms.  The tile floor was frigid cold, but all I could think of was laying down there.  So I fled to my car, and sat crying on the phone with my husband, knowing there was nothing he could do but desperately needing the sound of his voice.

I want you to know that I cried again when another co-worker sent me an email later, acknowledging how shocked they were with your news, how it was delivered and how they said they were praying for me

I want you to know that I cried my entire 50 minute drive home. And that I went straight to bed when I got there.  Drenching my pillow in tears.  Then sleeping.  Then waking and crying.  And waking and crying. Cursing God.  Cursing my body.  Cursing the hand I’ve been dealt.

I want you to know that I’ve been up since 3am drinking coffee and looking for a new job just to avoid being in the presence of a pregnant woman while at work, 5 days a week for the next 34 weeks.

I know what you’re thinking about me, you think I am jealous and you wonder why I can’t just be happy for you.  

I want you to know that I AM jealous.  And while I think your news is lovely for you & your family, saying I am “happy” for you would be wrong.  Because I can’t remember the last time I was happy about anything.  

I want you to know that moving on with my life as a non-mother is not enough for me. Having the freedom to do whatever I wish with my time & money because I’ve no one to care for or plan a future for, brings me no consolation.  That going to work and returning home to care for only my husband – no matter how deeply I love him – and our home, does not completely fulfil me.  And though I know there are temporary things I could do or participate in to try to fill some void, they will not replace the longing in my heart to be a mom.  To have a child to love & care for forever.

So while you think I am jealous and moody and selfish and bitchy because your announcement has nothing to do with me, please remember that I know it doesn’t.  Which is why it does.