Saturday, January 10, 2009


(edited to add: the girl I'm writing about (just to clear up confusion, and circumvent a call from my mom (HI MOM!) is fictitious and a generalized stereotype of pregnant women who have not experienced a loss)

I'm really, really tired of constantly comparing my life to other peoples' lives. It is getting ridiculous.
Here I sit, wrapped up warm in blankets, listening to my hubs play his guitar, enjoying one of those Saturdays where your only obligation is to remember to feed the cats (which reminds me) and I am stewing in jealousy.

All I've managed to do today is think of all of those other people who blissfully and naively have what I want most...but can't ever have. My whole family. My family of five.
I'm tired of myself. I'm sick of the comparisons.

There are a few women in my life who are pregnant, newly pregnant or very pregnant...and I'm sick of comparing my life to theirs. I'm so weary of seeing women with babies and feeling sick with bitterness and jealousy. I'm exhausted by the unfairness. Not just my own list of personal inequities, but all the women and men who have the rest of their lives to live without their cherished loved ones.
Compare my life to the girl next door (I'm sure you can think of someone in your own life who matches this description)...she's pregnant for the first time...a glowing pregnant woman with a beautiful baby boy, due in a few weeks. No complications. No worry. Biggest fear: the pain. (I can remember seeing my own reflection in this girl a few times). She's glowing with pride and excitement and every fourth word out of her mouth is baby.
Her baby is born (here's where our paths diverge) and he cries with shock...his mother cries with joy. Mom takes baby everywhere, proud and excited to show off her little bundle. Biggest fear: leftover baby weight.

Please don't misunderstand me. I don't begrudge her this joyous life.

I am simply exhausted by MY thoughts and comparisons. Why is she allowed to bring home her baby boy? Why is she allowed to get pregnant and be free from the worry and anxiety that plagues my every thought of pregnancy and delivery (by the way, the fear travels so far ahead, I don't see a reprieve from it as long as I live)?
I am tired of myself. I wish I could turn off this undesired aspect of grief.

If only I could understand God's love for me.
Why, God, why me?

If only I could reconcile my circumstances with His great, unchanging, LONG SUFFERING love for me.
All the same God, why, why me?

It is not my circumstances that dictate His love for is His circumstances. His choice to die on the cross and be subjected to the wrath that we deserve. This dictates His love for me.

His love for me is not dictated by my circumstances.

And He does not love HER (you all know who I'm talking about) more than He loves me...
...her child lives on earth, mine live in Heaven...

But He loves us both the same.


Amy said...

It is so easy to fall into comparisons. But we can never know their true reality. I do the same thing, play the same game. But then I think about how strangers may see me - a young women (if they don't look too close), thin (no signs of carrying chid), often smiling. But a stranger could never know the burden of grief I carry. I do have friends that cause me envy - little grief in their life, living children, both living parents, etc. It is difficult to not stew in those juices.

I hope that you can find peace in the guitar music your husband plays. That I can find peace in listening to football on the TV, my husband in the kitchen, my dogs under foot....

It is not what we planned on, but it is what we have. There could be people that look at us and feel envy because they simply don't know.

Sending love and peace...

Malou's Mama said...

I could have written this post. I completely understand what you are feeling. I am constantly amazed by the women I "meet" on-line who are so open and honest and willing to share.

Emily said...

Here are ways I've tried to explain the feeling you are describing... God gave me a scorpion instead of my son... This is a cruel joke... I feel like the brothers of Joseph next in a congregation of people with colorful coats.

Every once in a while, I consider the thought that God chose me to suffer, that I am blessed in a way that I won't see until heaven. But that doesn't bring much comfort now. And the thought doesn't last long.

Erin said...

I know this is about a year past due, but I just found your blog and have started at the beginning. I can totally relate to being sick of the constant comparisons you make, and wondering if God loves her more than me. Thank you for speaking truth--for preaching sermons to your soul and to mine and reminding me that His truth is more trustworthy than my emotions. I couldn't sleep last night, and just laid in bed praying for your sweet Hannah Mae. I will continue to pray until she makes her arrival.