This post first appeared on Bagged & Beautiful.
Let's pause a minute before I commence, because I need to warn you... it’s about to get real up in here.
I mean real and I mean ugly.
Because, as the title indicates, this is going to be the most unattractive and selfish blog post I am likely to ever construct.
I have been a bit hyper-emotional lately (I blame it in part on the return of This is Us) but there has been one subject that has hit me in my gut lately. Maybe it has been the onset of announcements, the influx of adorable pictures, the cute families gathered together, the birth of babies or the gender reveals. Whatever the case, just call me “jealousy” – the green-eyed monster – because while I am genuinely happy for the couples with their children or soon to be babies, I am also admittedly envious, and at my worst, angry.
Because I cannot have children.
I know, I know — I was the individual who said they would never have a kid, never desire a baby, never want to go through pregnancy. You are all free to call my bluff on this one because, at this point in my life, there is nothing I want more. I adore my stepchildren, but I truly want to be able to have a child of my own. I want to be responsible for a life, to have my life mean more, to put someone else's needs way before my own. I want to go to sporting events for my own kid, attend PTA meetings, teacher conferences, do the "parenty" things with my own child, and I cannot.
After my ileostomy surgery, my doctors told me it would be unsafe for me to ever attempt to get pregnant. I met with a gynecologist recently after a problematic event who informed me that she would not even refer me to a high-risk OBGYN because it is vital that I never get pregnant for my own safety. Although I knew this deep down, hearing it again really broke my heart into a million pieces. When you are unable to have children (you know, the one thing a woman is actually supposed to be able to do) it truly cuts you inside in a way that is incredibly difficult to articulate.
So, as I scroll through Facebook and Instagram and see my friends with their new children, I can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy in my heart. I am so, so happy for them, yet incredibly envious at the same time. Why can't I post pictures of my baby bump progress? Why can't I have an exciting gender reveal? Why can't I show off my newborn photos? I have cried and cried about this on multiple occasions.
My husband and I are looking into adoption, yes — and that is SO exciting to me to be able to have the chance to adopt. However, at the same time, it scares the hell out of me. Not the adoption, no; but I begin to second guess my health and worry that there may be days where he will have to do everything because I'm simply too sick to help out at all. What if, even with adoption, my health will prevent me from being a good mother? I require so much more sleep than the average person due to all my conditions... what if this means my husband would have to get up more often than me in the middle of the night to take care of a baby? I want to pull my weight and be able to do all that I can for a newborn. I want to be able to be there for my child 24/7 and the last thing I want is my sickness to prevent me from doing so.
I don't know what the future holds. I wish I didn't have this jealousy, fear of the unknown and most importantly, I wish I had a healthy body. I know we are handed the cards of life we are dealt for a reason and maybe, in the end, I will understand why.
Until then, I will continue to love my family, because I'm so incredibly blessed with a wonderful husband and two handsome, sweet (when they aren't fighting 😉) stepchildren.
I know God has a plan. We'll just wait and see!