my emotional baggage:

I need to talk to someone, not my husband, not my sisters, not my mom, and none of my in-laws. A friend may be a good option, maybe, but which friend? The one that I go to when something is going really good or really bad? The one who just had a baby less than a month ago? Or the one that I’ve complained about, felt hurt by, and still patching things up with? Perhaps my HR rep/payroll/friend at work can help. In fact, I almost did message her, right before she sent me a text asking me to join her in a prayer for her sister as she continues to fight against stage 4 cancer. All of a sudden, my own issues feel more like mere complaints.

Hear me out, or read I guess. September 2018, my husband and I found out we were expecting. Four extremely short weeks after that, he drove me to the emergency room where they told us we had lost our baby. I took a week off work to heal emotionally, but that entire week felt like a lazy time off work.

You see here, I had a feeling the day before my miscarriage. I had began spotting lightly on a Tuesday morning while I was at work. The following Saturday while my husband was working, I had a quiet, mourning. Coming to think of it, it might’ve been the morning of. I turned the TV off, the lights, and curled up on the couch in the dark, I put my hands over my slowly growing belly and I quietly cried. I remember praying and crying, asking God to set my mind at ease and to show me I was wrong, to let me be wrong. I started cramping as I typically do on my period and by the time my husband got home, the cramping had doubled. I tried not to worry him and kept the pain to myself and tried not to show it. With my mom’s advice, we drove to the emergency after the spotting became actual bleeding. When the doctor came in to tell us the sad news, I didn’t react. I felt like I knew it since before we even got there.

It’s been just over seven months, and my cycles just regulated two months ago. In these past seven months, one of my sisters in law (SIL) and my friend gave birth to their babies, and my older sister and two other SILs found out they are expecting and my husband and I are still here, waiting.

With every baby announcement, I’ve cheered, jumped and celebrated with the parents. I’ve also cried on my way home. Excuse my selfishness, please, I don’t mean to ruin your moment, the thing is; every baby announcement reopens my unhealed wound.

I understand that God’s timing is perfect and that I need to be patient and wait for my turn, but I’m growing tired. Tired of putting up an excited face when I show up to family events. Tired of attending baby showers that bring me envious joy. And tired of hearing about the size of your growing babies week after week. I know what it’s like. I felt it, too. I lived it, too. I was that excited, too. Can’t you be just a tiny bit considerate?

I guess I’m more angry than I realized. More jealous for sure. I’m not mad at God anymore. I think He understands. I’m just tired. I feel like I’m hanging by a thread, I feel the brokenness. I’m so full with doubt, why? Why us? What could I have done differently? What did I do for this to have happened? Why do I still feel this weak after all these months?

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