Through the Debris

I received news late last night that a childhood friend delivered a baby girl. Mother and child are healthy. This was especially wonderful news because she’d had an extremely difficult pregnancy and ended up having her labor induced out of concern for the life of the baby. This is a girl with whom I grew up, whose mother has been best friends with my mother since they were 12 years old. I am truly happy for their entire family.

But forgive me for feeling a little bitter.

I’m beginning to feel like everywhere I look family and friends my age (and younger!) are having children. Expanding their families. Living the dream. The dream I desperately wanted.

And I blew it.

Logically I know it’s not all my fault. And that the only thing worse than going through this divorce would be going through this divorce after having had a child by this man, which would mean being tied to him forever (or at least 18 years).

But I see my parents excitedly congratulate their family members and friends as they become grandparents. It’s happening more and more often. And now it will never be their turn to receive these congratulations in return.

So I not only blew it for me, I blew it for them.

If I ever had a son, I wanted to name him after my father. It was a secret I kept to myself (along with my former husband) because I wanted to be able to surprise my dad if the day were to ever come.  If I ever had a daughter I wanted to name her after my great-grandmother – a feisty redhead who immigrated to America in the early 1900s, never really learned to speak English very well, yet managed to successfully take very good care of herself and her family, even fighting off a mugger when she was in her 70s.

Those imagined children are now fading into the mist. Just like the rest of my dreams.

I know, I know, it’s time to focus on new dreams. Unfortunately biology is a bit unfair in that women don’t have forever to have children. Yes, adoption is an option, even for single parents (an option I will seriously consider when I’m nearing 40 with no partner in sight.) Still, call me selfish, call me self-centered, call me petty and mean and anything else under the sun (I deserve it). As heartfelt as my congratulations are to parents everywhere (and they really are) I can’t help feeling the sting of losing what I never had.