What do you feel when you hold your best friend’s baby?

Best friend, sibling, co-worker, whoever hands you a wiggly, coo-ing, blanket-wrapped little one.  They fit snuggly in the crook of your arm. Instinctively, you smell their head. OMG. That smell! There’s nothing like the smell of newborn hair.  Your eyes close, allowing the scent to permeate your entire being. A small smile crosses your lip, and a ping and pang in your ovaries. And then…the knowing that this is not your child. It did not come from your body. You must return this child to its parent and leave with empty arms. 

I have been working in-home in varying roles supporting families for many, many years. Last week, grief surrounding my own loss and inability to carry and birth a child was heavy. I was rocking a sweet-mannered 3-month-old baby girl, settling her for a nap. Emotions had already been on a high that day.  Grief comes in waves, and this day, the bombardment was relentless. It overtook me. I felt sadness, anger, resentment.  Towards the woman whose child this was. Towards the child for not being mine. Towards myself for feeling broken.

 Questions and thoughts of…

“Why them and not me?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Why couldn’t I have one?”

“When is it my turn?”

“Why am I not deserving?”

“Am I not worthy to be a mom?”

“I’m fucking tired of taking care of other people’s kids. It hurts.”

These and more ran through my head and heart as tears ran down my cheeks. Crying silently so I didn’t disturb the baby’s peaceful slumber. I couldn’t even look at her.  The flood of emotions wouldn’t allow me. I was a disconnected shell. Shutting down my own grief and emotions just to get through my shift to care for this child and not allowing the Postpartum mother to see my vulnerable hurt that I felt was unhideable.  

That night and the following day I cried. I cried myself to sleep. I cried when I woke up. I cried driving to work. I cried at work (taking care of children). I cried driving home. I cried so hard I hyperventilated on several occasions.  I didn’t return calls or texts for 36 hours. I simply sat with the wave of sadness and grief I had never felt before. I have done a great amount of inner work on this before, but this…this took me to a deeper level I haven’t experienced before. 

For the most part, this wave was done alone, as most of the waves have been through the decades. I have done this alone.  Most of my grief and emotions surrounding my losses, I keep to myself and only share bits and pieces with a few. Because who would know? Truly, who would know how I feel? This is isolating. I have felt so alone. My logical brain knows I’m not alone; women experience this every…single…day. Yet, my heart…my heart feels alone.  Alone…without a child of my own. 

These are the Sacred Whispers of my heart.

No child of my own