Five

My handsome nephew turned 5 years old last week. I am sad I am not with him since he lives in a different state, but confident that he did not notice. I will see him soon enough though, as I am planning a trip to visit him in the near future. I SO look forward to it. This boy is fun, inquisitive, and so sweet.

As much as I love this little boy, I hate hate his birthday - not that I do not want a day to celebrate his life -- because I love that part -- but because I am self-centered. As horrible as this sounds, the date tends not to remind me of his entry to this world (which was a true blessing), but instead seems to serve as reminder of the child I lost. You see, I found out I was pregnant shortly after my nephew's parents announced that he would join our family. Thus, his birthday, in some twisted way, serves as an anniversary of my own grief.

If things had worked out differently, I would have an almost five year-old child right now. While never confirmed, I always assumed the child was a boy. Today, I imagine him singing songs, playing in our yard, and reading books. I daydream that he would crawl into bed with us in the mornings, make a mess of our house, and expose me to squirmy animals I fear. I assume that he would follow his Daddy around -- tinkering in the garage and chatting with the old men down the street. I suspect he would have an incredible imagination, likely be a little too active, and would exhaust me. In a word, I think he would have been perfection. And...as stupid as it may sound, I miss him. I miss something I never actually had. I miss the hope and possibility he represented.

...And I am pissed. I am angry that I may never have the chance to have a child. I am angry when I hear my friends complain that their child (still in-utero) is not the 'correct' sex. I hate it when students 'accidently' get pregnant and then take that out on their children. I think, "How dare you take that for granted?!?". At the same time, I realize the anger is fruitless. I know it exists in an effort to mask my pain and grief. I know it persists because although my body has scarred from the physical trauma that surrounded my pregnancy, the incident still remains a fresh wound for me despite the fact that it occurred many years ago.

As I age, my chances of carrying a healthy child full-term decrease. As my health issues progress, the odds are also against me. With each passing month, the possibility of having a complete family decreases. I feel like a failure. I feel inadequate. I feel alone. While I do not wish to talk about it out loud, this breaks my heart.

So...for now, I will refocus.

I will forget about illusionary losses.

I will be less self-centered.

Instead, I will focus on my nephew.

I will plan a wonderful trip to celebrate his birthday.