My original due date was next Tuesday. In the past few weeks I’ve learned that a lot of my friends are expecting; most of the other moms who were due around the same time as me have had their babies or are about to, obviously. It’s so hard to be reminded of the hospital bag I’m not packing, the epidural I’m not getting, the blanket I’m not trying to swaddle, the tiny fingers I’m not holding, the stinky diapers I’m not changing, the healthy baby I’m not bringing home.
When I read a few books on grief after I learned that Christian wouldn’t live, they talked about many women feeling jealous and resentful toward other moms, especially moms with new babies. I didn’t understand that I really would feel like I’d be glad to be desperately uncomfortable in the last few weeks of pregnancy – glad to be going through a long labor with a healthy baby at the end – glad to be spending sleepless nights with a newborn.
This is still miserable.