I hope that you can forgive me for this, because it is not done out of jealousy, pettiness, spite, or shallow competition- it is done from a place of literal self-preservation.
So, I am sorry.
And I am happy for you.
But I will not be there.
When you announce your pregnancy with a stylized photo on Instagram, a punny post on Facebook, in a card, or even in person – I will feel two things.
First, I will be indescribably, over-the-moon, giddy-glad for you.
And then, I will need to escape.
I’m Happy for You, But I’ll Still Cry
Exit out of social media, minimize the page, throw the card in the trash, get in my car and drive away – far far away – from every single shred of pink, blue, pastel, stork, streamers, confetti, stupid, happy celebrating.
I am happy for you – I promise.
But I won’t be there.
Because I CAN’T be there.
When you invite me to your baby shower, and I’m unable to make it, please know that I am happy for you.
When you want to talk about the flutters and kicks, or nausea, the swollen ankles, the nursery, the receiving blankets, the list of names, and I derail every conversation by changing the subject to anything non-baby, please know that I am SO happy for you.
I don’t want to dim your light, and I don’t want to downplay your joy, and I don’t want to be the rain cloud that crowds out all of the infectious mom-to-be sun, but also I can’t be part of it.
Baby Shower After Loss or Infertility: Handling the Happiest Invitation at the Saddest Time
I want you to have it and feel it and cherish every moment, but please, as gently as I can say it, I beg of you to leave me out of it.
Because I am SO happy for you, and I cannot be there.
I’m not asking you to understand because I don’t think that’s possible until you’ve carried a child who didn’t get to come home.
But I am asking you to be forgiving, and to be okay with my absence, to extend grace and compassion, to know that none of this is personal; to know that my heart is with you, and your precious teeny tiny one.
It’s simply with you from a distance because that is emotionally safer for me.
I’m not asking you to hide or be less excited or be guilty of having what I wish I had because that wouldn’t be fair, and also, I truly do not want that for you.
I’m just asking you to be sensitive, to be cognizant, to remember that some of us are surviving pregnancy loss as a trauma every single day, and read the room.
For example, if I change the subject of babies and pregnancy and nesting, please just let me do it.
Please.
If I leave the room when you’re gushing over pregnancy euphoria, please know that I’m not rude; I’m doing it out of respect and kindness for you so that you don’t have to stop.
But I can’t be part of it, you see.
Because I am happy for you, but I cannot go there.
If I go there, I might not make it back.
So please accept my congratulations and know how thrilled I am for this most beautiful and exciting time in your life. I wish you nothing but happiness, health, a safe delivery, and a thriving baby.
But I won’t be there.
And I hope you can forgive me.
{Your Thoughts}