So here I am in Colombia, where violence and terror have destroyed thousands and tens of thousands of lives, feeling sorry for myself. Doesn’t really make sense. But I can’t deny the slice of pain I feel for what isn’t.

This morning at church I noticed a young couple a few rows ahead of us both looking across the aisle at a toddler and simply beaming. For some reason I thought, “she’s pregnant” – but then I thought, well maybe they’ve just started trying. Or my preganoia is acting up. Only then during a hymn she sat down abruptly, and her husband sat down next to her and started rubbing her back. Definitely pregnant, I thought. After church someone we were talking with confirmed my suspicions.

As I walked back to the place we’re staying with an older gentleman who is on our consultant team, he started talking about different phases of his career, and how hard it was to travel when his kids were little. He went on to talk about his son and DIL who are expecting “their first child” (as it happens, I actually know the couple, and know that they lost a baby at about 16 weeks several years ago, so not technically their first) and how he doesn’t think they realize how much it will change their lives. He said “I don’t know how old you and T. are,” but his son is 38 and DIL 37, “so the clock was ticking.”

I said nothing at all in response to all this, nothing at all. I couldn’t tell how much of the distress I felt was over the unspoken warning in his words, and how much was due to the intense stomach cramps I was feeling at the moment, I just knew that it hurt.


2 Responses to “”

  1. Caro Says:

    Oh Elizabeth.

    Huge hugs.

  2. SaraS-P Says:

    People often just don’t get it.

    Sometimes I want to shout, “We aren’t doing this to please YOU!” even to people I admire.

    Oh, and I beam at toddlers all the time. I am sure I did it even right after my miscarriage. They are just so adorable. That’s why we want our own, right?

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