A Confession

I have to admit something.

But before I admit it, I think it's important that I tell you why. We live in an online world where people tend to gloss over hardship or never mention it at all. There are university-level studies that examine how people present themselves on social media. STUDIES. People pay for that shit.

I spend a lot of time online because of my job, but also...because Facebook. And sometimes I just wish that more people would talk about their trials, because it helps us all connect. So in an effort to find more of this authentic human connection in the vast world of cyberspace, here goes.

Almost every time I hear that one of my good friends or family members is pregnant, I cry.

I'm not talking little tears. I'm talking big, giant, overpowering elephant tears. Or alligator tears...whatever. I'm talking space tears. (You know...as big as space.)

The tears come on suddenly and in private and they're uncontrollable. The embarrassing thing is that I've often written about being the infertile person you don't have to tip-toe around. I realize that babies happen and the entire population of Earth isn't going to stop getting pregnant because of me. And I also am really happy for all of my friends. I get it all logically. But emotionally, every once in a while...sometimes it's just too much to bear.

Two of my relatives had babies this week, and my friend (who, naively, I decided to start "trying" at the same time with) is pregnant with her second child. And it just reminds me that I could have two children in my arms by now. And my soul weeps for the body that can't make that happen. It weeps for the temporary death of a calling I've felt tugging at me my entire life. It finally weeps for the bottled up tears that never come every month I know for sure I'm not pregnant...for all the times I could cry but decide not to. And it weeps because one person just can't be so strong all the time.

When this happens, I don't try to suppress it. I feel my feelings. I let the sadness wash out, and I feel strong again. I think it's ok to cry sometimes. I think it's ok to admit that I'm jealous of mothers. And it's ok to show weakness. So here I am, showing my weakness.

EDIT: After I closed the computer and got ready for bed, I wondered if maybe I shared too much. And I kept thinking about the "I could have had two kids by now" mentality. I got a distinct impression that it's faulty for many reasons, but mostly because God's eternal existence doesn't deal with manmade time constructs. My kids will be mine eternally, so a few years of waiting is negligible in the grand scheme of things.