Sisterhood.

Sunday was my step-mom's baby shower.  She's terribly considerate; she stopped to have some private time with me to make sure that I wasn't upset about all of this, the shower, going through baby stuff, watching her get more and more pregnant everyday.  I was really touched; here she is, with a transverse breach baby that is bound to be enormous by now (my brother was a 9lb 8oz baby and I was 8lbs 9ozs, my dad is 6'5 and she's about 5'5), she was in the hospital last week with regular contractions and a highly elevated blood pressure, she's got four kids at home to manage while they're out of school for the summer, and she watched our little guy last Monday while I was in the hospital, but she still has the time, energy, and clarity of thought to be considerate about how all of this might be upsetting for me after the recent revelation that I won't be able to do the whole pregnancy thing.  It was really sweet.  Thankfully I could honestly answer that none of this is bothering me.  

I think that a big part of it is that I'm already head-over-heels in love with this baby.  It's a bizarre feeling and I can only imagine how much incredibly stronger that feeling is for a pregnant woman, but this has been "our" baby throughout A.'s pregnancy and it's kinda been burned into my mind that way.  I know that I will have virtually unfettered access to spend as much time with the little one as I want.  I know that my presence is not only welcome, but desired during her labor and the birth.  And I know that this baby is just going to bring so much joy to our newly formed family.

If this was one of my girlfriends that I had to watch grow bigger and talk about birth plans with I don't think I would be okay with it.  I would try.  I would want to be happy for her and want to be supportive, but it would hurt like hell.  There would be that It should be me feeling.    I feel robbed of those kicks in the ribs, the inability to breath normally, a smooshed bladder and all of the other wonders of pregnancy.  I already feel like some great big cosmic force has cheated me out of my right as a woman to be a life giving vessel.  Which is hard to feel because I really do believe that life is here to teach us lessons, to help us grow, to make us the people that we're supposed to be.  This is just a really shitty lesson and I don't get what all of this crap is teaching me.  To be a stronger person?  To be better in trying situations?  To cope with loss and grief better?  Sometimes I'd definitely take far less character if it meant that I could just be a normal 24 year old woman with normal 24 year old concerns.  I wish I was applying for jobs rather than disability.  I wish BF and I could fight about who's turn it is to take the house rather than whether or not it's fair for me to want to have a baby if I could die in a decade.  

Hmmm...this started out as a much more up beat post.  I was feeling elated.  I only have a few weeks left until this little person shows up and I get to see it dressed in all of the adorable little outfits that A. got at the shower on Sunday, that I get to gladly take it whenever she needs to deal with the kids, or say, take a nap and a shower?  I'm happy about this, really happy.  It's the sun that's broken through a bank of storm clouds.  It's a concrete reason for me to feel that life does in fact go on, stupid freaking disease ridden body or not.  So I'm clearly still torn about my feelings about the whole "barrenness" thing, but I am absolutely certain that I'm thrilled that A. is pregnant, that these two great parents are going to be doing it all over again, and that this new little life is coming into my life.