This morning we got an email from our friends in San Diego. They just had their second child–another son–whose name, coincidently, is the same as Mi.Vida’s.
And I felt that feeling, that feeling of being left behind.
We know five families having babies in October, four of them are having their second child. All of those four have children around Isa’s age. I feel like I’ve messed up somehow, like I’ve forgotten to do something, like I was in a hurry and I missed a step and now I’m looking around and seeing that others didn’t mess up and I feel silly and strange, like I don’t fit in.
Except I didn’t forget. Not at all. I just couldn’t do what they have done. Not yet anyway.
I sometimes go back to posts from a year or two (or now three) years ago and I read what I wrote, to see where I was. It’s an interesting exercise, one I rarely regret doing.
Today I went back to September 1, 2009 and read this post. So fitting; it seems I’ve been here before.
But I must say, it doesn’t hurt as much this time. The pain is dulled. It’s like I’m in that same desert but I have sunscreen and a sturdy hat and canteens full of ice cold water and good shoes to protect my feet and so it’s not so awful trekking endlessly, peering in on the little oasis’s of perfect families built without concern or distress. I don’t feel so raw from it. And that’s nice. I appreciate remembering that it’s not nearly as bad this time around. It helps some how.