It’s not envy; it’s absence
I am crying as I read this. Each and every word is so very true. It is just how one feels out and about. The pretending nothing is there so that you can just make it through the store for the loaf of bread and milk to get out before shedding a tear. The void. You are so excited on the inside to hear and see that child and it’s mother. To see the relationship they have and the joy. Hear the laughter in their voice. But then there is a void.
It has been nearly 2 years since I touched or held a child. That child was my own. I am not able to hold another one. I cannot replace the last memory I have of my child with another. That space is his and his alone. I am not strong enough. I just do not have the inner strength to change it.
Thank you for these words. I could never have expressed my feelings any better.
Today at Trader Joe’s, I was surrounded by women my age or younger, all of whom had babies strapped to them, or toddlers in the cart, or little hands inside theirs. One mother beside me was picking out bags of nuts from the shelf, just like me, except she had a cheerleader in the cart beside her, a two-year-old boy going: “Yah! Yeah! Yahhh!!!” every time she tossed a bag of nuts into the cart.
“Yah!” the mother cheered back. “Nuts! Yeah! Woo!”
“Yeah!!!” he cried, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.
They went on like this for ages, grinning, absolutely smitten with each other.
I moved away from them, and felt that empty space in the front of my own cart yawning wide.
I adjusted my eyes so that I couldn’t see any details around me—shifted my eyes into “middle distance” mode. I usually do this…
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