The Saddest Happy

My sister is expecting her third child. And when I say expecting, I mean, she's going to have a c-section in about eight hours. She's having a little girl. I'm excited for her. Really, I am.

Sort of.

Mostly I am depressed as all-get-out. I'm almost too depressed to muster up even the slightest bit of enthusiasm for my sister. This little one is something of a miracle baby, since my sister had been told previously that she wasn't going to be able to have any more children. So, I mean, it's great and all. I'm happy for her.

And sad for myself. Because I am selfish, and I wish it was me. I miss my baby Roo. I've cried buckets today. Roo is just so perfect. So pretty and sweet. I love her more than words can express. I wish she were mine. It seems so unfair that she's not.

I hate playing the "life's not fair" card. I KNOW life isn't fair. I'm not stupid. I don't expect life to be fair. But at the same time, does life not being fair mean it has to be complete and utter tripe? Does it have to be UNfair? Why can't one tiny little thing ever work out in my favor?

Roo is a perfect mix of me and H. She got the best of both of us. For some reason I thought earlier about what it would be like if H and I had stayed together. I could see clearly in my mind a family picture of the three of us, Roo in the middle, her features a dainty little amalgam of the parents on either side of her.

I wanted to smack myself for even thinking of it. For thinking, even for a second, that H and I could have ever enjoyed any sort of quaint little domesticity. For thinking so selfishly. Roo deserves so much more than to have two complete screw ups as parents.

I wish I did deserve her. I wish I was enough for her, could have been enough somehow. I wish I could believe that someday I will deserve a husband and a baby, that I will be good enough, that people will tell me I'll make a great mother instead of telling me I have no right to be a mother.

I wish it was me having a c-section tomorrow, with my husband by my side and two beautiful children at home with their grandparents. I wish I could just be happy for my sister. I should be happy for her. I AM happy for her. It's just not a very happy happy. It's a sad happy. I'm getting remarkably good at those. And just as remarkably tired of them.

I hate that all I can think of right now is the insensitive and judgmental things my sister said to me when I was pregnant. I hate that I'm counting down until her baby is nine weeks old, and that what I want badly to do is to call her up that day and say, "Now, could you even consider for a second giving your baby to someone else? Do you have the strength to do that? I did. Don't you ever dare to judge me again."

Is it awful that I've been thinking that for days? That I've been tempted to throw her words back at her? About how I was being selfish and how if I really, really thought about it, I'd see that my baby deserved better. Try choking that one down when you're weeks away from your due date. Try not being bitter when you love your baby more than anyone or anything in the world, and your own sister tells you that, basically, this baby would be better off with any parents in the world but you.

Urg. I hate it when I get all crabby and emotional like this. But you know what else I hate? I hate how most of my family has this attitude like, "Oh, well, you know you did the right thing," and no one seems for a second to be able to empathize, to be able to think, holy crap, Jill did this impossible thing, this amazing thing, and she is such a strong, incredible person. I get that people think I did the right thing (and think that I was stubborn and screwed up before) and they're happy - for Roo, since of course no one is particularly concerned for my welfare - but just once I'd like my sister or youngest brother (both of whom have children) to say, my gosh. How on earth did you do it? How did you survive? I can't even imagine making such a sacrifice. You must love Roo so much. I am so sorry you've had to go through that. I am so sorry I can't be there with you, that you've gone through this alone. I love you.

I find myself at a loss. I am trying so freaking hard to be happy for my sister. I sat for over an hour in the temple Saturday night, trying to make peace with the situation. I found none. I felt God's love, as I always do in the temple, but I didn't get any answers to the questions on my mind - how on earth do I get over myself when I'm the only company I have? How do I put my hurt aside to find joy in someone else's blessings?

I wish I knew. I wish I didn't miss my baby so much. But I don't, and I do. And there's nothing I can do about it.