I’ll never forget receiving the message that day, over a year ago. It was textless – a sound file. When I increased the volume on my phone, I heard them: strong, rapid, healthy heart beats. One of my best friends from high school – a woman I look up to, live life beside, and never let slip too far in my rearview mirror – was sharing the news of her pregnancy!
This wasn’t the first time I had experienced a pregnancy announcement; in fact, I’ve been able to celebrate with my family and many of my family’s friends throughout my life. With this announcement, though, some unexpected emotions manifested.
Let’s be real: I do not want to admit this, but it’d be a dishonest reflection if I did not. And it wouldn’t show the enormous heart transformation that has occurred since then.
So here it is.
The amount of envy that infiltrated what should have been a purely joyous moment was deeply disturbing to me. It was the first time that it had happened, and I know why.
This was my peer in just about every sense of the word: though she was a grade above me in high school, we were track and field teammates, both ambitious students, and subscribed to the notion that women should help each other rather than create more drama for each other. I knew the moment she called to tell me about the guy she had met that she was going to marry him: “It’s in your voice. The love in your voice. This is your guy.” We got to see them get married on such a gorgeous day and now it made complete sense that they would be welcoming a baby into their lives!
But Cody and I had been trying for a baby for a year at that point, and the tears that I tried to swallow when my friend sent me that message were really awful. The sudden feeling that it was somehow unfair was the worst. Unfair? How was it unfair? Even writing it down for the public to see is terrible. But I know this is common. I know this is a thing. I didn’t WANT to feel the way I did, but I DID. Now the question was, How could I stop it?
I don’t want to be blinded to what I have because I’m too busy looking at what I don’t.
I vowed then that I would never allow someone else’s joy–and their desire to share that joy with me–ever be soured by bitterness or envy. It couldn’t be. Not feeling complete joy because something absolutely wonderful is happening is NOT the way it should be. It’s not the way I want to live my life. I resolved that there had to be a better way.
Being grateful for what I have RIGHT NOW is 98% of it.
It has taken a dependable group of friends, women who know my heart – who know I don’t have bad intentions when I tell them I feel sad and happy at the same time – and women who have experienced the waiting. It has taken a husband who doesn’t put pressure on me or who reminds me that it’s not my fault that it’s taking us a little longer than it might take other couples. It has taken parents and parents-in-law who don’t remind us at every turn that we should probably be giving them grandbabies at this point. It has taken my own willpower to resist snapping back at those who try to reassure me saying, “But you’re so young. You have time” and believe them, instead. It has taken the power of prayer to keep my heart calm and peel away the frustration that things aren’t happening on my own time.
Ultimately, here’s what I know as truth. And it’s this truth that grounds me and keeps me positive, happy for others, and guards me against that awful feeling that might threaten to creep up every now and then:
I will have the perfect baby at the perfect time. I’ll know, looking at my baby, why it was meant to happen then and not necessarily when I wanted.
That’s it.
How do I know I’ve had a mental and emotional transformation? Well, you know how we’re able to test our physical health and progress through competition, or measurements, or other tests. But what about mental health? How do I know I’ve improved so much?
Well, this last week, I not only visited the newborn of our very best friends, but the next day I visited another newborn of a good colleague of mine and then, the very next day after that, after that first beautiful heartbeat message, I got to celebrate Remi’s first birthday. With either of the visits, there was no bitterness, no sadness, no anger, no jealousy. I got to watch one of my very best friends celebrate her daughter’s first birthday. I was able to play with Remi, cuddle and giggle with her.
Does the yearning still exist? Absolutely. But there’s a comfort in the waiting now that wasn’t there before.
Thank God for that.
