I figured out what it is, that thing that has me yo-yo-ing between ok-happy-sad-sadder-ok-sad-happy...people keep having babies!
They're everywhere! Little pregnant women with popped out bellies. Big pregnant women looking glow-y. Celebrity pregnant women. Mean pregnant women.
Ok, so not really any mean pregnant women. But I wish they would be mean just so I could justify these feelings.
Don't get me wrong. I love that people are having babies. (I am pretty sure I've typed that before. Probably more than once.) I mean, someone has to keep things running in the future when I am too busy mashing up my food before I eat it. Plus, babies are cute. Ridiculously so. Chubby cheeks and soft hair and little button noses. That's the reason people keep having babies, really. The cuteness. (If a three year old popped out, people would definitely have fewer kids. If any at all.) I'm happy for people having babies.
And I really thought I was over this. That I had set the fruitless hopes aside. That I had finally talked myself into acceptance and joy for what I have.
What I have is great. Truly.
I still, from time to time, trick myself into thinking "Well, maybe."
The disappointment used to be so crushing when I was wrong.
And now it's just...expected. Where once I was so hopeful, every time, now I am hopeless. Every time.
It's really hard. And, while I realize, on the grand scale of things to be sad about this isn't really very near the top, hearts don't listen to logic. Hearts lack common sense. It hurts me, it changes me, it affects me, it crushes me. And the cycle of heartache-guilt (because I have so much)-joy-heartache-guilt (because I have so much) is a very tricky roller coaster ride indeed.