The Eternal Guest Room

My little sister is having a baby tomorrow.

She’s scheduled for a c-section in the morning. As much as I knew this day was coming, it still hit me harder than I expected. She’s 5 years younger than me, has been married for 4 years, and still doesn’t seem like she should be old enough for either. Well, it’s probably more accurate to say that I don’t feel like I’m old enough for her to be at either of those points.

Tomorrow I will become a third-time aunt (for those that don’t know, I’m the oldest of 4). Each time stings, but each one also gets a little easier as the passage of time numbs my heart a little more.

I feel like a horrible person. I feel no joy in these children entering my world, and I hate to admit that; writing it for the world to see makes me feel like a monster. But it’s true. After they are born, when I meet them, I love them, of course, but when they first make their arrival I can’t see past my own ridiculous grief. My mom says “I understand that this is hard for you and it hurts, but I know you’re happy for your sisters.” I don’t have the heart to tell her that I am not.

I wish them every happiness, every joy – but I can’t say I feel happy for them.

I know that time will lessen this pain, and that someday, it probably won’t really matter. But every new baby that enters the family makes me feel less a part of it. Everyone else is full of joy, so excited and happy, sharing each others’ elation – and I’m alone, grieving, and hating myself for feeling the way I do.

When I was in college, a friend died on my 20th birthday. The pain was so raw, so intense, that I couldn’t ever see another moment without it being in my future. As I sobbed, a good friend hugged me and whispered, “this too shall pass.” And it did. Not the sadness or the feeling of loss, because 12 years later I still think of him and remember the pain, but the sharp, heart-wrenching grief has subsided, and I remember his life more than his death now.

I know that this, too, shall pass. I know that this time in my life will not last forever. I know that I will love and adore each of my nieces and nephews (and I know that I will have a lot). I can look ahead and see that things will not always be the way they are. For this I am thankful. And it’s probably the only reason my selfish grief hasn’t swallowed me up yet.

For now I am saying “it isn’t fair” and “what about me.” I use these births to mark the passage of time for us. I know it’s wrong, but that’s the thing about feelings – they don’t really care if they’re appropriate or not.