It’s here. The moment I have been dreading since September last year. In September it dawned on me that while I would not be having a baby in April/May other people would be. By people I mean women, of course. Women who had not lost their baby. And not random women. Women I know. Lots of them. Oh well, I thought. I won’t care, I’ll be pregnant again by then.
So the time is here. The baby’s have begun arriving. Beautiful, healthy babies. Two boys and a girl so far. With more to come. And I wonder. Would we have had a boy or a girl? Would they have been chubby and squishy? I wonder how we would be coping right now with a newborn baby. Especially given recent events in our household. I just wonder, you know. What it would have been like for us to parents right now.
And we aren’t. Right now we are not even close. I am not pregnant. And I am sad. Sad for what could have been. For all the plans we made in those short weeks that we thought there would soon be three of us. And most of the time I don’t think about it anymore. I gave up trying to get pregnant. I decided to get healthy and let it happen as it happens. But this past few weeks have been really hard for me. No one else seems to remember, you know. It doesn’t occur to the outside world as a heartbreak. They didn’t count forward to figure out a due date back in September. They had no idea a small timeline had opened up in my mind forming the next 9 months and onwards in my head.
They don’t know by now I would have been a Mum. But I’m not.
Doesn’t that just break your heart a little. The expanse of thoughts, upsets and memories in my mind that has no future only the past playing over and over in my present. It is not a productive place to be, let me assure you (Hence this big write out). It isn’t even making me feel better. It is like my body remembers and is on auto response. My friend said that. Do you think she was on to something? I feel sad. I said that already didn’t I. And ripped off. I forgot that. I feel massively ripped off.
But is this little ode to me too much? A bit dramatic. Totally self indulgent? No, I’m not asking you to tell me how to feel but what would you say to a friend? Someone tell me that it passes. That every April I won’t feel my heart break a little. That it’s ok to be sad but if I turn into a giant ball of boohoo there is nothing useful about that. You know, cry it out and suck it up honey.
Suger 
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