Tuesday, 20 January 2015
My sister is pregnant, and expecting her little one in June. I am happy for her, especially because I worried that the same saddness spewing infertility that touched our lives may have affected hers too.
Luckily, it didn't, and it "only" took them 8 months to conceive. She said the month that she found out she was pregnant was the month she began to think that she might have infertility. That was the month that we brought Babykins home.
I had no idea they were trying. Or "not preventing" as she puts it. To an infertile, I feel like those are the practically the same thing.
Last night we found out the baby's gender. Babykins will have a boy cousin less than 8 months younger than him (he? I am confused about my grammar and I am much too lazy to look it up).
I am excited that Babykins will have a cousin the same age as him. I am excited to have the opportunity to share in our parenting experiences together. That is truly a dream come true, especially because our friends' kids were born 8.6 million years ago.
Here's the problem though. My sister is becoming one of *those* preggos to me, and it's getting harder for me to ignore. For example, she sends me weekly updates via text message about what size of fruit or veg she is now carrying. I'm running out of responses.
Her boyfriend created an oh-so-adorable video on facebook of a collaboration of family and friends' elated responses to their news. It was very touching and I cried happy tears when I watched it. And then, I swiftly had a little pang of something ugly and jealous in my heart.
To be clear, I'm not jealous of her pregnancy. I'm actually quite pleased that I didn't have to squish Babykins out of my vagina. I'm jealous of her naivety. Of her pure bare-faced happiness and confidence in her growing little navel orange, and perhaps in this world.
Digging deep, I realize that I'm the most peeved that she maybe doesn't treat me as an infertile anymore. Yes, I am a mother. But I also earned my nasty little infertile badge too. One does not replace the other.
I want to be rid of these feelings. I have ignored them for a while, but they keep announcing their presence, louder each time. So, I'm acknowledging them here, in the hope that they now can calm the freak down.
I hear you, infertile feelings. I get it. I know why you are here. I am still very inferile. I won't forget you. I will always remember my wounds and scars. I promised myself that I wouldn't forget and I won't. But this is my sister, and my nephew. Won't you please now get lost?