After my ectopic pregnancy, I do not deny that there are things that changed. These changes, no matter how subtle they are, creep up on me when I least expect them. Like when a friend announced she's pregnant. Or when a former colleague posted pictures of her newborn baby. Or when another friend tweeted about a home pregnancy test that came out positive.
I cannot bring myself to be sincerely happy for them. I cannot bring myself to even pretend I am and post a comment on their Facebook pages.
I feel guilty for being selfish this way. But my reservations to rejoice about the happy news of bringing forth a bundle of joy can only be explained by my body's betrayal. My body betrayed me. Me. My own body. No matter how I force myself to see it otherwise, to remember that my failed pregnancy is not the end of everything--that I can still conceive--I still feel the pain. I still feel betrayed. I still feel that tiny pang of frustration and hurt. I still feel envious of other people's happiness in the form of a tiny baby. There's this little voice in my head that says "You should have been experiencing her joy, too. You should have been going through that crappy morning sickness now. You should have been shopping for cute baby clothes now. BUT YOU ARE NOT. You are here wallowing in self-pity. You are here trying to deny the pain. You are here trying to push these thoughts away, but you know very well that these thoughts will always haunt you, nag at you, until that day you become pregnant again--and normal."
So forgive me if I can't rejoice with you. Maybe soon I will have enough courage to be sincerely happy for you, dear friends. For now, allow me this.
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