Since September, when I found out that I’m pregnant, I have been riding high. When you plan a pregnancy and maybe when you don’t, I don’t know there isn’t a minute of it that you take for granted. Yes, remaining positive and joyful has been made easier for me because my symptoms have been so mild and because I tried really hard to get pregnant with these babies. Also, I’ve overall been feeling really darn great, both mentally and physically.
So when sadness snuck up on me yesterday, I found myself feeling guilty for feeling sad. I have so much to be thankful for. I have so much goodness in my life. What right did I have to be unhappy? About anything?
This time of year can be difficult. I lost a really good friend two years ago on December 28. She was walking across the street to get bagels for her family when a driver ran a red light and killed her. It sent shockwaves through our close-knit group of friends. I never lost someone so close to me; I had been blessed. I never knew anyone who died so young. It hit us hard. It hit me hard. Our friends have gotten together each year in December to remember our dear friend, as her birthday was also this month, the 13th.
This year, three of us are pregnant. Three of us are on the verge of becoming mothers, starting families, and continuing on in lives that our friend will never know. It’s a strange feeling to celebrate new life while remembering a past one.
Perhaps it felt sadder this year in light of last week’s tragedy and the gravity of what happened to those families in Connecticut. Or because I know Christmastime isn’t always joyful for so many other people who are lonely and struggling. Or because my wife’s relationship with her parents is strained because she’s gay, and I don’t know if our children will have a relationship with them at all. Or because my body is swimming with pregnancy hormones. Whatever the reasons, it all just seemed too much yesterday. And I cried. A lot.
In my sadness, I couldn’t help but miss “home.” I’ve lived in Albany for almost three years now, and I’m still waiting for it to feel like home. My job is here. My wife is here. Our house is here. Our dog is here. I have new friends here. Our children will be born here. And still, it doesn’t feel like home.
I miss my friend who died. I miss my friends who are still alive, because even though I only live an hour away, it feels like oceans away at times. I miss living close to my family, and feel sad that our twins won’t live close to their cousins and to my parents. I miss having a healthy and positive relationship with my significant other’s parents (not that I ever have with my wife’s parents, but I have with past relationships and it’s so wonderful to be recognized and loved by them). I miss the comfort of the Hudson Valley and the love that I know there.
Yet, through it all, I know that I am blessed. With a healthy pregnancy. With a supportive family. With a loving wife. With dedicated friends. With a solid job and even more solid healthcare. I know this feeling will pass. I know I’ll wake up one morning with a great big smile on my face and hope in my heart. But until then…
Read more of Aela’s writing at Two Moms Make A Right.