And cry down the phone to your girlfriend for 10 minutes whilst you literally say nothing. Just holding your phone to your ear and sobbing. And she’s just there, listening, telling you to breathe.
I needed that last night.
A close friend messaged me to say she was pregnant with her second child.
It was so out of the blue. Instinctively I felt my chest get tight and tears prick my eyes. I didn’t message her back because she was amazing and said she wasn’t expecting me to. In fact, she was fucking amazing with EVERYTHING she said and how she said it – even down to the fact she messaged me rather than telling me face to face, because I wouldn’t have appreciated breaking down in tears in a pub lol. She couldn’t have been more sensitive, or compassionate or understanding if she’d tried. And she’ll be reading this right now. I messaged her this morning. I was able to be honest with her and tell her that I cried a lot last night, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t happy for her. I told her I wouldn’t be up for asking lots of questions about her pregnancy and she was cool with that. She’s cool full stop. That’s why she’s such a good mate.
But my god did I cry.
I cried to the point that there were no tears, just pained wet eyes, an open mouth, and silent wailing. I laid in bed, staring into the darkness until gone midnight.
I woke up with puffy eyes that stayed with me all day. I spent the day exhausted from lack of sleep. I had horrendous period cramps reminding me that it wasn’t me who was pregnant.
But I got on with my day. Like I always do. I’m not some fucking Greek tragedy. I don’t walk around wailing ‘poor me!’ And it’s certainly not like I wear a bell round my neck like a leper warning people ‘STAY AWAY FROM THE BARREN ONE!’ I have dignity for Christ’s sake.
But I tell you what, my heart has had enough. It’s had enough of being patient. It’s had enough of being happy. It’s had enough of the monthly disappointment. It’s had enough of being the only one left. It’s bruised, and battered and scarred. It feels heavy. It feels burdened. It feels bitter.
I wish I could send it on holiday. I wish I could pack it a bag, send it to a spa resort on Bora Bora and tell it to get wasted, sleep with gorgeous waiters and not to come back until it was properly recovered. And it would come back refreshed, with a tan, a happy glow, and a sassy attitude that said BRING. IT. ON. MOTHERFUCKERS.
But I can’t send my heart on holiday. It has to stay here with me. It has to learn to take the news of my friends’ pregnancies (and there will be more, of that I have no doubt) and it will have to learn to be strong and suck it up.
But right now, it’s hurting again 💔