Two Pink Lines

She whispered, “I have something to tell you.” I knew before she said anything, but here I was holding my breath. She slid something across the table, and I barely saw the two pink lines through my tears. She whispered again, “I’m sorry, I know how long you’ve waited and how much y’all have tried. I just needed to be the one to tell you. I’m so sorry, I really am.” As tears fell down my cheeks, I whispered, “You should be so happy right now, not worrying about me. I’m so very happy for y’all.” 

            I truly was happy for her because I knew she wanted another baby, and she got her wish. But yet my heart was breaking over and over again. It seemed everyone around me was having babies. We were at that age where it was the next step in our lives. She was right, we have waited a long time, and we have tried over and over. We have tried all the ways, from natural to the help of doctors, and it resulted in loss. I craved seeing those two pink lines that have consumed me for years. Every time I saw someone who was blessed, I’d cry; every time I’d hear a horror story about abuse, I’d get angry and cry out to the universe and to God, why wasn’t I the one blessed? I’d never abuse or neglect. 

            As time has passed, all my friends have had their children who have grown up, some even seeing those two pink lines themselves. Yet here I am still waiting. I have made excuses over and over that maybe it was because I am sick, yet I see people who are much sicker than I see those pink lines over and over. I have tried to be at some kind of peace with it, but I am still just as angry and heartbroken as I was in the beginning. I’m at the age now where it doesn’t make sense to try and have a baby myself, but I could adopt, but a lot of agencies won’t allow it because of my age and my sickness. So, I am stuck in this sadness and anger, not an everyday bubble, but it comes out now and then. I’ll see a news story about some child who was abandoned or mistreated, or well, you get the idea, and my heartbreaks all over again. 

            There are long nights when I simply cry until I fall asleep. There are days that I go without thinking about it; those are the ones that consume me most days now. I am starting to realize that my time has passed, but there is still that ache that will exhaust me for moments to days at a time. I read about these women who are older than me and see those two pink lines over and over; it is deemed a miracle. I still cry out to God where is my miracle and I receive no answers and no miracle in the form of those two pink lines. I realize it is a miracle that I am alive and functioning since I have so many autoimmune diseases that create a crippling life for most, and I am so thankful that I truly can be walking around. I still cry out that’s not the miracle I wanted or needed, but God had disagreed with that, and I don’t know why, and I am not sure I’ll ever know this side of heaven. I am thankful for the life I am living, but I still yearn for two pink lines.