Ow, The Guilt
It hurts so deeply.
I talk to various people on the Internet, on my blog, on twitter, in forums, people from all walks of life. Following their journeys and reading their stories breaks my heart. Some desperately long for a child to hold, many have suffered devastating losses. Experiences that I cannot even begin to comprehend. Women that have had to raise families alone, been raped and beaten, held their babies as they slipped away.
And here I am, wallowing. Putting myself through agony by dwelling on experiences that I didn’t get to have. I have been blessed with the precious gift of a healthy daughter, one that I’m dreading looking after. Instead of savouring every moment being with her, I’m clock watching, counting the minutes until bed time so that I can hide away and not face life.
I know nothing of hardship. I need to be thankful that I can hold my daughter tight, kiss her feet and sniff her hair at leisure. I just wish I could hang on to that when the depression monster inside of me is clawing it away. How could I possibly think such dark things about my wonderful child? Some days I struggle to even look at her. I’m so undeserving of her existence.
I can only apologise. To the mothers that long for a baby, to have their child here with them. And to Moo, for not being the parent that you want and need.