Today, I was burbling Emma's tummy, kissing and loving on her. Ever since we had walked into my MIL's house, she wanted nothing to do with anyone but me. I loved every second of it, and before I thought about what I was saying, I called her a"momma's girl."
I looked up and saw the look of pain in my sister-in-law's eyes. I knew RIGHT THEN the full truth of the matter: I have become one of them. I am one of the belly-rubbing, diaper-bag-toting, kid-snot-wiping FERTILES. With not one, BUT TWO, children.
Except I am not.
Because at that very moment, watching the pain in her eyes, I hated myself as much as she did.. . for hurting her, for causing her the same pain others used to cause me.
Later, I talked to her, let her know that not a day goes by that I don't think of her and those two baby girls. She cried and so did I. She is still bleeding, still producing milk, still grieving. I told her I was sorry for earlier and that I know that watching that would have killed me four years ago. She nodded and admitted, "It is hard."
At least we can talk about it.
But it still is awful.
And I hate it.