If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that I have three sisters. And starting three months after we found out we'd never have children of our own, each of them got pregnant. When it was all said and done, I endured right around 20 consecutive months of at least one sister being pregnant and welcomed two nieces and a nephew in just over a year. If you think that sounds like some special variety of hell, trust me when I say that it was. If you're not familiar with the narrative, click here, here, here, here, here, here, and quite a few posts in between.
Which brings me to why I'm bringing this up.
One of my sisters is pregnant. Again.
Am I surprised? Not completely. I just didn't anticipate it would happen this soon. They had trouble conceiving their first so I (incorrectly and naively) assumed that the second would take a long time too. I thought I'd have more time before dealing with this again.
How am I taking the news? That's more complicated. Compared to how I took the news a couple of years ago, better. Though "better" is relative.
I am being reacquainted with feelings I don't wish to be reacquainted with. I am feeling sorry for myself. And I'm angry with god or the universe or whatever. Because none of this is fair.
Just when I thought I was in a place where I was doing really well, this happens. Fan-fucking-tastic.
If there's a silver lining in the situation, it's that there is no chance of having more than one sister pregnant this time. The other two have their tubes tied. Yay for small victories.