Yup. Due February 25, 2011.
I'm happy for her. Mostly. I think.
Yes, definitely happy for her, but, sad for me. I wonder how long it will take for that sadness to go away. I keep thinking, here we go, another baby shower, another trip to the hospital maternity ward where my son was born and I wasn't there to hold him.
My son was born to a drug addicted mother in September of 2007 in a local hospital. I had been to that hospital just nine months prior, to see my best friend's firstborn son less then 24 hours after his birth. I was the only person outside of family she would allow into the room, and I'm sure that this next birth will be no different. Except that it will be different. I am different.
That day I went to visit her, I struggled with my emotions as I was in the midst of a waiting game - diagnosed with infertility, and waiting for my adoption placement. I cried on the way to the hospital and I cried all the way home.
It's been nearly three years. Nearly three years since my son was born in that same hospital to the drug addicted mother. The same hospital that my best friend will give birth in and my future god-child will take his or her first breaths. The same hospital that I will be expected to visit.
I imagine walking down the hall, wondering if this is the same room that my son was born in, if these were the same nurses who held him and cared for him. I'll pass the NICU and feel the pangs of guilt that I wasn't there to hold him when he was there, struggling. I'll watch mothers leaving in wheelchairs holding their newborns close, protecting them from harm, and long to share that same memory.
Yes, I'm grateful that I have my son, and I'm grateful to the woman who gave birth to him. But I don't know how I'm going to walk into that hopital knowing that I couldn't be there when he needed me the most.
Yes, I'm happy for my friend, but this time it will be different, because I'm different.