I care for five children here on earth plus the one growing in my belly. I mourn one and I struggle with envy. I envy people their perfect mix of boys and girls. I envy people their frivolously happy lives. A life I once lived. I envy people who can walk down the street holding their daughters hand without wishing for another hand. I envy especially people with a pile of boys and a girl at the end. The people we used to be.
I'm old and I'm envious and I grieve. I grieve my daughter. I grieve the life we would have had if she had lived. All our children potty trained now. No massive beluga of a van. No sideshow as we walk through costco. No belly crushing me with yet another boy. A boy I am grateful to have but can't help wishing had been a girl.
I'm done in these days. Maxed out beyond belief. Envious, grief filled and resentful. Resentful of other peoples miracles. Why them and not us? Why any child but especially why my Eva? Why would God bother to give me my heart's desire and then snatch it away so quickly? And I'm done in, done in and exhausted...done being pregnant and so I grieve that too because my heart's desire will only ever be a figment...a mist on the horizon.
In case you hadn't noticed I'm old, I'm tired, I'm envious, I'm grieving and I'm plain old sad tonight. Missing all the should have beens that swirl around me...