Sunday, February 3, 2013


I pride myself on being happy for those who become pregnant after loss and/or infertility.  I rejoice in the news and await the birth of a healthy thriving baby.

Recently I was conflicted by a different situation.  A friend who was essential to whatever ease I could have in the wake of losing Trey.  I can never fathom the thanks she deserves for her contribution to our tragic situation.  So when she told me she was pregnant, every cell in my body leaped with joy.  I asked her how long she had been trying and she said only a month.  I was relieved that she had not had the problems that we have had getting pregnant.

When the news sunk in so did the jealousy.  I became envious of her good fortune.  I wanted to get pregnant on the first try, in fact I believed I was entitled to it due to losing my first born.

Over the next nine months I complimented her on how she looked and asked her how she was feeling.  I kept careful watch on  FB so I could see pictures of her as her belly grew.  I would find unopened this and that in our home that we wouldn't use and gave it to her.  Above and beyond my team's collaborative gifts I gave her a gift of my own.  I constantly was hoping for health and happiness.

Inside I was dying, from bitterness, guilt, jealousy, envy, regret, worry, and resentment.  I felt like the worst friend EVER!  This sweet friend who had done so much for me was creating a family at a time in her life when she was ready and able to assume the roll as a Mommy.

Such feelings have been wasted in the past on those who get easily pregnant but can't afford or aren't prepared for their unexpected fertility.  I had never felt this way about my friends and family.  I was always jealous of the fertility of others especially after losing Trey.  I wondered why fertility was not given to me, someone who had established a solid life for herself, had a wonderful marriage and was wanting to start a family.  Why did MY child have to die.

This is the black mark of grieving a child.  Most of the negative emotions that come along with such tragedies are warranted and forgiven but I cannot seem to forgive myself for these feelings creeping into such an essential friendship.  There is no excuse for it and cannot escape the shame of my feelings.  First off she is a friend.  Then you add her contributions into the equation.  Cap that off with establishing a solid life of her own.  100% of me should be happy, right???  Had this loss never happened, these feelings would never surface or even be.

I made a conscience effort to curb my unwanted thoughts assuring myself that this was karma for all she had done for me and that EVERYONE deserves such luck in fertility.  I also thought about my life's purpose and became relieved that we did not share the same purpose.  It would kill me if she had to go through what I went through, ANY of it!

The truth is, no one can gauge the emotions or the timing of them when dealing with this kind of loss.  I certainly am a stranger, even after all this time, to the ebb and flow of my grief.  I sometimes find myself sunk deeper due to the very same feelings that got me there in the first place.

I just have to resolve to, in the words of my sweet cousin, beat myself up with a feather instead of a hammer.  Until I tell her and she forgives me, I will remain ashamed.  Not sure if I could EVER tell her, so I guess the shame is what I am facing.

1 comment:

  1. I think what you are feeling is totally normal and you should give yourself a break. You're not a bad friend at all. You're just someone who has lost a child and dealt with infertility.

    I can relate because I've dealt with both issues as well and I always get jealous when I hear about people who just manage to get pregnant exactly when they want to and then go on to have their babies with no issues. I'm also super jealous of people who announce their pregnancy right after they pee on a stick with no worries about what may happen later.