I've been trying to bury this debilitating feeling for months now.
This is the eve of the due date for the baby boy that will share my history, my very DNA. The baby that I may never know is even born.
It's, for lack of a more descriptive word, anger.
Anger that I'm allowing myself to find less joy in the baby girl that my nephews beautiful wife will have in a couple of weeks. An event that will probably always remind me of the potential birthday of my oldest child's son. A son who deserves to call Chris daddy and know how very much he is loved by an invisible family.
Anger and sadness that overshadows the magical and nearly miraculous pregnancy of my precious niece. A niece who is my heart, the daughter I couldn't give birth to. The sweetest mommy-to-be who I am over the moon happy for but who reminds me that I'm just an aunt not a gramma.
I'm angry at the women who is keeping me from fully participating is all of these wonderful events because of a selfishness that I will never understand. I want so badly for my heart to be as full as it should be.
Loving my great nieces will be easy (I already do)!
I'm searching desperately for the faith that I'll be able to replacing this deep, soul crushing pain and anger with something much more healthy.
In the mean time I'll smile through the tears and celebrate each moment that they allow me to share. Because each moment will be a gift that I can't repay.