The other day, a sister of a friend of mine just lost her baby. Sucks. She was 12 weeks into her pregnancy.
My friend was so teary-eyed when she told me the news and said, “You know when you know people who deserved, like REALLY deserve to be parents? These are those people.”
Then her phone rang and things got busy and we never spoke about it again. There was no “good” time to bring up the discussion but there was this understanding between us. I would look at her and feel the words, “I am so sorry.” She would look back at me as if to say, “I am, too.” People surrounded us and the day was just so unimportant in comparison.
I hugged my daughter so much that day, evening, and night. I woke her up at 1A. I did that just to hug her.
You know, I have felt in the past that when my daughter was born, the hell I went through to have her no longer mattered. It doesn’t matter. It’s done. That hell is not an issue.
But it IS an issue. Every day, I am an infertile woman and mother. I am who I am , despite having been so lucky. When someone is saddened by loss and grief and disappointment, I remember every ounce of every emotion because it is just THAT easy to relate.
We are all members of this club. There is some joy in belonging to this club with so many of us. Some of our stories are kooky and hilarious. There is also some sadness.
When I see my friend on Monday I will ask her how she is doing and how her sister is doing. I will tell her she WILL be an aunt someday because her daughter WILL be a mom.