baby blythe

d + r = baby b


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I randomly came across a blog today and found something that spoke to me so clearly. This blog documents one couple’s struggles with infertility and while I’ve only begun reading, I can already tell that it is going to be a great source of comfort for me. Now, I’m not sure if I can even say that David and I are struggling with infertility, as I know we have only been trying for six months, but it is one of my biggest fears.

Below is an excerpt that really jumped out at me.

Understand if you are pregnant that I may need some space. Especially if it happened so quickly and you can’t empathize with what I’m going through. It’s nothing against you personally, it’s just hard for me to be around you a lot right now because you’re a constant reminder that I don’t have what I would give anything for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so incredibly happy for you that you are on your path to motherhood and I wish you nothing but the best but the constant pregnancy talk and growing belly is a painful reminder that I’m not there yet.

I felt guilty when I read this, and in fact, I’ve felt guilty for the past 14 days (has it really been two weeks since the first day of the miscarriage?) One of my best friends is pregnant right now. In fact, we both got our positive pregnancy test on the same day. Our estimated due dates were only a few days apart. I simply cannot put into words the conflicting feelings this causes.

Following the start of the miscarriage, there were a few days when I was a complete zombie, and I barely talked to anyone, let alone her. We are co-workers and spend a lot of time together (we were even voted teacher BFFs by the student body for the teacher superlatives) and while I didn’t want to avoid her, it was–and still is–painful to see her knowing that her tiny baby was still growing inside of her belly and that mine was not. With every day that goes by, I think to myself that however far along she is, that is how far along I’d be right now if I wouldn’t have miscarried. It’s painful and it sucks, and I know it’s okay to feel this way–hello, 7 stages of grief!–yet I feel such extreme guilt over these feelings. I want to be happy for her; I AM happy for her, but I’m so sad for myself at the same time.

I honestly cannot imagine my life without this person, and she has forever changed me and my life. She KNOWS me; she GETS me; and we have so many eerie similarities and commonalities that we both joke about how it was our fate to meet at CHS. The feeling of joy I felt when she told me “Okay, so I’m pregnant” cannot be described, because I had a secret, too. I was pregnant, too. And when she told me that she found out just the day before (the same day as me), our friendship was reconfirmed in such a special way.

But now we don’t share that. We won’t share that. Even if I get pregnant again soon and we go through part of this journey together, it won’t be the same.

But…I have to be okay with that, and I will be. It’s just going to take some time.


One thought on “Guilt

  1. Pingback: Guest Post: The Pregnant Friend’s Perspective on her Friend’s Miscarriage | baby blythe

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