Not Part of the Club

I couldn't believe my ears on Tuesday. My friend, also pregnant, rushed into the copy room to tell me the news. Another girl at work is pregnant. That would make 8. I asked questions, how far, natural, due date. She rushed off the answers. I was generally happy for the girl. She had been trying for a while. But it still hurt to know I was left behind again and surrounded by 8 bellies!

I took a moment to breathe when the girl strolls into the work room, right up to my friend. The words that came out of her mouth cut like a knife.

I am now part of the club!

My mouth dropped. I tried to smile at her and say "congrats". I am not sure what I actually looked like or said. I am sure the plastered smile on my face looked more like a smile of someone about to vomit.

Then the pictures cropped down before my friend. 8 week pictures. 8 weeks stings for me. I lost my angel to heaven at 8 weeks. My friend was nice, asked questions and moved her along. I stapled papers in silence trying desperately not to cry.

Once the new club member was gone my friend grabbed me and repeated how sorry she was over and over.

I am not part of the club! I can't get those words out of my head. I don't belong with those girls, the 8 girls.

Last night I went to the Casting Crowns concert. The first guy talked about his family and praying for his kids and blessing them. Of course I wasn't part of that club either. As the night went on and was about to end the band members prayed for the crowd. One prayed for the young men. Another prayed for marriages. It got to the young girl and I thought, she is going to pray for the club members. Yep she did, but not the belly/kid kind but the IF/childless kind. She too is struggling and has lost an angel. Tears streamed down my face as I finally didn't feel left out. I knew one of their recent songs had a line about a wife longing for a family. I didn't realize why.

I am better at the end of the week. I am better with my non-membership. I know, my time is coming, according to the rest of the world. I am not sure I like hearing those words. I know they are trying to be helpful but a pat on the arm or a squeeze is enough for me. Maybe I can fake being part of the club and just get fat!