It doesn't seem fair that some of us have to struggle so very much to bring a child into this world. In my last post, I was being buoyed up by Julia's ever present wit. Now I'm weeping with her and her family as they try to move through this latest development.
I can remember reading the blogs of other infertile sisters who managed to achieve pregnancy. None ever really breathed easily, and most struggled with alternating feelings of guilt, fear and anxiety. I can remember thinking that if it were me, I would just be so eternally grateful for the pregnancy that I wouldn't complain or worry.
I want to hunt down each one of the bloggers I ever thought that about it and apologize deeply now. I so fully get it.
If I allow myself to feel truly happy and relaxed about this pregnancy, I'm convinced I'm cursing it and myself. The joy of the most blessed event of my life has been stolen from me. I can't figure out how to retrieve it and that sucks. I remember when Julia posted a semi-hopeful post and I cheered! Yay and hurrah for hope!
We do deserve to feel joy and hope. We do have the right to be excited about these babies we have loved into existance after so many years of trying. We should be able to shout from rooftops. Yet, as Mony so eloquently wrote, we strap on our orange belts, but still kind of keep them hidden under our folded arms, afraid that if we breathe too loudly, our orange belt will be repossessed.