The Deepest Sorrow

I wish I felt anything but anger when I see a pregnant woman, affectionately caressing the home in which her baby grows safely. Pain wears the veil of anger so as not to be seen. It buries itself deep in the heart of me where it is safe from the eyes of others. I feel my stomach fall and hot tears prickle my eyes. They are cautious; refusing to fall and expose the pain. Anger surfaces in its place. Who can wear this anger for me? Who can take it off my hands and lessen the load? There is no one to give my anger to. I sit here and wear it, wishing it wasn't mine. I run my hands over my broken and battered body; the body that couldn't make a home for the babies I loved. Loss after loss after loss. My body fails again. Silent rooms and empty ultrasounds plague my mind. Rivers of unforgiving crimson rush from my body and tell me it's over. With them, they take a part of my soul never to be returned to me. Sterile white walls of hospitals become witness to the deepest pain I've ever known. I don't think I can get up again. The pain is just too much to carry. Am I being punished for being home to depression? Can you not be home to the deepest sorrow and the most exhilarating love at the same time? Is there someone out there who would have loved harder and laughed more often? Does she get to wake with hope each day instead of crippling fear? Would that make her a better mother? It doesn't seem fair. I know I can walk alongside my depression and love fiercely at the same time. I have all my life. So what makes this different? Do I not deserve to feel the depth of this love? Families grow around me one by one. Babies are born and lives are changed. And still I sit here as anger masks the pain I don't want seen. The world shifts and changes around me and I'm stuck; unmoved. I smile as friends share their news and allow the tears to fall freely in private. I question how I will live through pain that feels so permanent and unchanging. And while it feels impossible and beyond my capacity; I do it. I walk through the rawness of the pain and continue to live. I have thought I shouldn't be alive because of my broken body and hateful mind. And yet I am here living. Instead of the pain making me wish I could leave, I now know how to carry it and live alongside it. But as I sit here in the cafe watching the expectant mother caress her stomach with loving anticipation I wish I felt anything but anger. 

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