Envy has made me a bitter cow

For ten months now, Adam and I have been trying to create another little life to love. I’ve had a few glimmers of hope. But that little light keeps being extinguished too soon and my own inner light has dimmed.

No one ever warns you that trying to make a baby can hurt your body, your self-esteem, your view of yourself as a strong woman. If my high school sex ed classes taught me anything, it was that it only takes a solitary sperm casually placed to result in a pregnancy. Sometimes it’s not that easy.

After months of trying to conceive and having suffered six early miscarriages, I feel like a wounded fertility veteran. My ability to bear children – the very reason we all still exist – has been called into question. I find myself looking at the pregnant women around me with a mix of envy and venom. Why can she have what I’ve longed for for so long? The fires burn even brighter for those who don't seem to appreciate the blessings they have. I have become a bitter cow.

I’m lucky that I’ve found an amazingly supportive group of ladies online who I can cry to, vent to, heal with. While those around me offer kind words of sympathy or advice, it’s one of those things you have to live through to understand.

I'm surrounded by pregnant women in my life right now. Each swollen belly makes my own ache. As my sister-in-law nears her due date, I’m reminded that if we hadn’t lost our first pregnancy, I would have a babe in arms already. And yet here my womb waits. Empty. Longing. Hoping.