I’m a good person. It’s true. I really am. A friend just got pregnant. On her first try. And I am all at once so relieved and happy for her, and sad and bitter for myself. I would not wish this on anyone. But it still feels a bit like salt in the wounds. The wounds I can’t seem to heal. I always wonder when it’s not going to hurt so much every time a friend gets pregnant. When I am going to stop begging the universe and asking why that can’t be me and just be happy for other people?
I wonder if that will ever happen. What I do know is that it hasn’t happened yet. I’ve watched so many people get pregnant and have babies in the time that we’ve been trying – and it used to not bother me so much. But now it does. Now it’s just heartbreak, after heartbreak, after heartbreak – watching all of these people get the one thing that I can’t. And then I feel shitty for being so sad and bitter – because I sure as hell wouldn’t want any of them to have to go through this. I guess it’s just jealousy – in it’s purest, most ugly form.