Followup to "Envy"

Some commenters say that my fertility envy will fade with time. Other commenters say it will never go away. Some say when I get to my ideal family size I'll feel better. Funny, I always wanted four children, which I'll have after this, but I never considered that it would be only one pregnancy. I suspect that it varies from person to person... there's no right answer here. And I definitely don't begrudge most people their pregnancies. Not even fertile myrtles. Not even, heaven help me, Michelle Duggar. But I grieve my inability to just BE pregnant. I grieve the freedom to say, as the Duggars say, that I'll have chilren until God tells me not to. I don't want 17 children per se. I want the freedom to make that choice. And I grieve the loss of that choice.

One anonymous commenter wrote:

It will fade, you will feel better over time.
For me pregnancy was almost the time to rehash and process all my infertility feelings. And of course, you're not a mother yet. Sure you wanted pregnancy, but what you REALLY wnated is the small head in the hollow of your neck, a baby nuzzling at your breast, a toddler shouting MUMMY and running over to hug you.
Those are the things that will heal you, not a terbutaline pump in the leg and bedrest.

The thing that struck me the most was : And of course, you're not a mother yet.

Oh but I am. If you're newish to my blog you may have missed it, but I have a beautiful almost-four year old foster son. He's not really a foster son, exactly, because he was a private placement, but I'm his legal guardian. I may not be his biological mother, but I've been his mother for almost 3 years. He knows no other mother. I could not love him one teeney bit more if I had given birth to him. I have no doubt that I could adopt a dozen children and love them just as much. I also know that I still would have grieved the loss of this pregnancy experience had I never gotten this far. Even though it makes no difference in how much I love my beautiful boy. J will probably be with us forever. He is my son in every sense except the legal sense. He knows no parents but us. There is no greater joy in this world than being a parent, and still, the pain of infertility is as raw as it ever was.

It's rare that it is someone else's pregnancy that brings out the pain for me. It's usually something far more personal, something intrinsic in myself. This time it happened to be someone else's pregnancy. Someone who got pregnant within six weeks of getting married. She certainly didn't do it to upset me. And it's certainly not her fault that it did. And most people in the community don't even realize that I COULD be feeling left behind in the child-bearing department. After all, we've been parents for three years. And now we're having triplets. So how could we possibly feel remotely out of place amongst those having their their third, fourth, fifth...?

It's true though... it's these babies that will ultimately heal me, not the terbutaline pump and the bed rest. The terbutaline pump and the bedrest do nothing but remind me that this is NOT a normal pregnancy and that I'm STILL set apart from most pregnant women. But I'll love these babies. Of that there is little doubt.