(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 me...it 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.