Mourning Someone Else's Loss

It has been an emotional few days. I never thought I would get to this point....this pregnant point, and feel anything but elation and excitement and be wanting to sing and dance around. What? I like musicals, don't judge me. Right now I am experiencing something I never thought I would experience, I am mourning other women's losses. I know in part it is because I am just crazy emotional in general right now. Example one: on Friday night I repeatedly asked Andy why he was fighting with me and being so mean. We had just finished watering the dirt that would soon become our lawn (post to come) and I was unloading the fertilizer from my trunk. He said 'why don't we get it in the morning?'. And I said 'because there is going to be so much work tomorrow I am just trying to make it easier tonight'. Then he said 'but what if it rains and it is sitting out in the back yard?' then I said 'why are you fighting with me? I am just trying to eliminate steps for tomorrow. Why are you being so mean?'. Okay so I see that he wasn't actually being mean, he was just being him. But sometimes it comes off harsher in my head. So I realize I am extra sensitive these days. But it is more than just that. I am really connected to the women that I have met through this process. I didn't really want to talk about my infertility issues on my blog and at first I really avoided it. But the more I found and read about other women's struggles the more I realized that I wasn't alone. I wanted them to know they weren't alone. So I went ahead and let it out. Well kind of. I still didn't really go into the painful parts. The struggle with month after month of disappointment. The constant feeling of not being a woman, of not working right, of wanting to crawl into a hole to die. I tried not to convey that here. I tried to keep a semi-up-beat perspective about what was going on, but some of it snuck through. Some of you saw the cracks and you supported me through them. And even when I couldn't tell you what was going on, your blogs pulled me through. Your joy and hope, even your heartache and disappointment, showed me that I wasn't the only one feeling these things. We were in it together. The moment I found out I was pregnant it seemed like so many of the other woman were on the upslope too. I was flying at the idea that all our dreams would come true at the same time. They just had to. We had all struggled for so long and been through so much that it would just be perfect for every one of us to get our dream at once. I actually thought that could happen. But then the clouds rolled in. One by one I found these women, MY women, at the beginning and facing the darkness. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to get our dreams together. We were all supposed to forget our pain and heartache together and move into the happy new stages of pregnancy. We were suppose to swap stories about trying not to vomit on the table in front of our inlaws when the waitress brought out their dinner. We were supposed to laugh about saying the most ridiculous things imaginable and falling asleep during conference calls.  
It isn't that I am not happy, that I am not absolutely appreciative that it finally happened for us, but I genuinely feel like these woman should be here too. I don't deserve it more than them. In fact, in some cases, I think they deserve it more than me. These are wonderful, beautiful women, who will be some of the best mothers on the planet. When I saw a woman on the train last week yell at her toddler, tell him he is stupid and curse at him for his book falling on the ground. I wanted to beat the crap out of her. I wanted to make her feel as small and insignificant as she was making her son feel. I wanted to tell her she was a horrible person and didn't deserve the gift of this child. I thought of my women. The women who would do anything to be her right now. Who would just laugh and smile if their son dropped a book or got out of his seat to come sit next to her. They wouldn't tell him 'go sit the fuck down!'. Their hearts would swell if their child wanted to be closer to them because this is what we all want. We want to be mothers. Probably more than anything we've ever wanted in the whole world. It is just so heartbreaking to me that they aren't here too. I am not giving up hope. In fact I will hope even harder for them from now on. Maybe I wasn't really applying myself last time. I am going to be there for them just like they were here for me. But right now, at least for today, I am just in the mood to mourn for them. I want to crawl up into a ball, let the tears flow, and feel the loss these women are feeling.