I See Pregnant People...

The months after I lost Andrew, I saw twins everywhere. They were in the stores- in the park- in our church. When I drove I found myself always behind a 'Twin Camri'- When I shopped I found myself staring at "Twin Packs" of food items.

How I longed to be pregnant again- to feel that way again- and just like 'twins' were everywhere I looked, so were women who were pregnant. They were everywhere I turned. I would look at them and remember that ignorant bliss I felt when I carried the boys. I remember thinking my biggest fear then was how labor would feel- not how losing a baby would feel.

I would watch them, the pregnant people, and part of me wanted to run to them- to tell them- don't be so sure- don't be so happy- Listen to what happened to me! I would watch them shop for clothes and strollers and part of me wanted to run to them- to tell them- don't buy those things- they are so hard to return- it is so hard to have those things when you don't have your baby.

That's how I felt in those early months. I hated seeing twins. I hated seeing pregnant people and I found them around every corner. It seemed to be some cruel joke.

The morning I learned that Baby E was gone and my heart had broken again, we decided to take our children for ice cream. They had seen their parents cry a lot that day and it seemed that something sweet would make things better- at least for them. It was a fall day and we sat licking our ice cream cones and I noticed they were there. Pregnant people. Five cars pulled up with passengers who wanted ice cream and every single one of them carried a woman who was expecting a child.

Again there was that cruel joke- I went back to that raw place- those feelings I felt when I lost Andrew- I wanted to tell them- I was pregnant- I was pregnant just like you- just yesterday...

And then I looked around me-
Three children sat near, enjoying their special treats. Three children close in age. Three children and their mother... me.

Had anyone looked at us, they would have never suspected, never guessed, never believed that I, a woman in my early thirties, had had my heart broken twice by children who left me. I was a member of that secret society of broken hearts and I suddenly looked at the women and wondered if perhaps they were members of the secret club too. But I wouldn't dare ask. Not anymore. I'm healing- but I did wonder...

We've talked about it at meetings. So many of us felt it. Those of us who have been walking this path for some time... We could look at pregnant people and be happy for them. I could look at pregant people and be happy. But as happy as I was for them, I was more sad for me.
I wonder if that's right,
or wrong-
and I think it just
is.
My reality.