Mi Isla Sola

So, I belong to a board of women, mostly moms now. Just a message board that began as a wedding planning board, and evolved as we all entered motherhood. This past week, 4 healthy baby girls have been welcomed into the world. I am bitter, angry and jealous.  How is it that these women just assumed they’d get their healthy babies, and they did. Not one of them said “Thank god she arrived safely” or “we’re just so relieved nothing went wrong”. They were the standard baby announcements… “so and so arrived at x weight, y length blah blah blah..” Why would it have been any different? I hate hate hate that. Why can’t people realize what a god damn gift it is to birth a healthy, living baby? Why can’t they be more grateful for it when it happens? Why do I have to be the one whose baby died? Why indeed.

Even as I sit here halfway through a subsequent pregnancy, progressing seemingly well so far, I am bitter and jealous of them. It’s not just their pregnancies, obviously, but their naivete. I hate that I’ve been alerted to another entire way of living through pregnancy. I wonder will there be a heartbeat at the next appointment.. will the baby be immersed in a swamp of mec like my daughter was, when they do my c section? Will this baby be stone cold silent like she was? How come I have to worry about these things? Why can I not just wonder how his/her eyes will look as they stare into mine for the first time? Why can I not just be curious about fingers and toes, instead of brain damage and umbilical cords wrapped around necks?
I feel so robbed of the opportunity to enjoy this very special time. Try as I might to just “be” in the moment, I fail.  I just can’t throw caution to the wind and assume all will be well.. There are no guarantees, and sadly, I take this very much to heart. I hope the baby can’t feel all my anxiety, bitterness and anger, as my therapist believes, because if so, it’s going to be one fucked up little soul. I just want to know everything will be fine, and dive into pregnancy bliss headfirst.

Yet I can’t, and it just makes me so sad.