1 post tagged “seven deadly sins”

I'm almost halfway through the seven deadly sins!  And I just started working on this project 90 minutes ago!

By rights, I should be calling a friend or family member to unload on them.  I might be just a little too proud to admit that I need a shoulder to cry on.

Oh!  Oh!  Pride!  That just leaves wrath, greed, and lust.

I might be able to work my way up to wrath.  Greed and lust...hmmm.  That'll take some thinking.

In all seriousness, though, I'm going to unload on this poor, poor blog.  Beware all you who may look here.

The husband and I got pregnant in February.

I miscarried seven weeks later.

It's not a big deal.  In fact, I thought I was okay with the whole thing.  After about six hours of misery, of the emotional type, both the husband and I were able to look at the situation, shrug our shoulders and say "Well, better luck next time."  We're young and had barely been trying to get pregnant.  It's not as though we'd been working really hard at the whole thing, nor was a I pregnant for very long.  It wasn't a true pregnancy (according to the rule of thumb my doctor mentioned today) in the sense that there was never a fetal heartbeat.  No heartbeat=No pregnancy.

So there you are.

I had a call from my (younger) cousin today.  She and her husband are pregnant - 8 weeks along, had the first ultrasound with pictures, fetal heartbeat of 171 beats per minute, could see things like the umbilical cord, arm buds, head, etc.

I am happy for her and her husband.  I really am.  I know that they started trying about the same time that we did, and I know that everyone in the family is ecstatic about the baby.  And why not?  Babies are wonderful things.

Do you know how often I have to stop and remind myself that motherhood is not a competition?

I'm so bound up with envy for her situation, and I feel awful about it.  I was okay with the fact that I miscarried, but dammit, I wanted to be next!  There is a big part of me that feels like when (if) the husband and I do manage to procreate that the whole thing will be no big deal for my family.  Something like "Oh, you're going to have a baby.  So what?  Your brother did that (well, his wife did, anyway), and then your cousin did.  That's not so special."

Where the hell is this ugly competitiveness coming from?  I won't be the first nor the last woman to have a child, and there was never a thought in my mind - as we talked about choosing to become parents - of "I'll become a mother and that I'll really BE someone."  That's ridiculous.  I can see how ridiculous that is.  And yet...

Envy.

And here I sit, sobbing over her good fortune - and feeling like a complete heel. 

I've consumed more cookies than are good for me (my stomach says so...gurgle, gurgle): Gluttony.

I've decided that I don't want to workout tonight because I'm just too miserable: Sloth.

I feel incredibly low, but I won't call any of my friends and family because, dammit, I've repeated over and over that not being pregnant isn't a big deal.  I'm okay with it.  I am okay with it.  These things happen, and I am okay.  To call any of them up now and whine about it...well, it just isn't going to happen.

Pride.

Simultaneously, the worst and the best thing was the choice I made to not tell my cousin, as she was bubbling over with joy, that I miscarried three weeks ago.

It's the worst because I do want her to be aware...part of me wants to be able to talk about what little pregnancy I had (very little, but there were some symptoms), another part of me wants her to...not to edit herself because of my experience (which isn't any big deal, right?), but just to be aware that I might feel envious, even as I wish her joy.

It's the best, because at least I didn't give into my selfish tendancies and rain on her parade.  Now that would have been almost unforgiveable. 

God, I wish my husband were home.

I wish that stupid little imp in my head would stop joking about how this is going to make me a better, more patient person.  I really don't think that that's possible.  It's pretty obvious that I'm a heartless, selfish beast who only thinks of myself...how things affect me. 

No, no...that's the depression talking.  I'm a decent person who happens to be human, and therefore flawed. 

Dammit.  I hate the whole world and wish I could throw breakable items against the wall.  I think the smash would be most satisfying.