I just got back from a visit “back home” to see my family, which includes my two very fertile sisters and their children. I really enjoyed my time there, and it wasn’t until I was in the airport for the trip home that it struck me that it was a very painful visit as well. I really didn’t realize it the entire time–of course I was kept fairly distracted by lots of little people and conversations with big people and food and being home and having a cold, etc., etc.
So I sat there in the airport and realized that I had a lot of hurt just under the surface (well, by this point, it was pretty much at the surface and flowing over the top of the surface–yes I was the crazy crying lady in the airport), but I had still really loved my time there, and I’m not sorry I went.
I have a ton of new cute niece and nephew memories and they are both precious and painful to me.
I am so happy and proud of my sisters for the mothers that they are and that they are becoming and I am so angry that it was so easy for both of them to become pregnant and have children. I am so angry about that and I am so jealous and I love my sisters and I would not want them to have this hurt. And I am so angry that of the three of us only I have this hurt.
I love seeing how much my mother loves her grandchildren and I ache for her to love MY children like that.
I love hearing my dad tease my nieces and I am so scared that he will never get a chance to meet my kids.
So it is all mixed up and jumbled around, all the happy and hurt and proud and angry and sad. It’s all of that all at once.