I always thought there was some sort of order in life. I guess it was easy to think that given the way I had lived my life. I graduated high school, went to college, got a job, moved out of my parent’s house, met a guy, got engaged, moved in with him, married him and bought a house. It all went how it was supposed to go.
There’s that phrase again: “how it was supposed to go.” It’s been the never-ending thought in my end for the past five years. “This is not how it was supposed to be.”
When we started trying to start a family, I thought there would be an order to it all. I thought it would be like taking a number at the deli counter. We started trying so we’d be the next ones to have a baby. Sure, maybe someone would get pregnant before us but it would have just been a mix up with the numbers. And once someone at the deli counter realized their mistake, we’d be next again.
I had no idea that it would be a lottery. I had no idea that I would pick a number and that people who showed up years after me would get their baby first. I had no idea that people would come back for a second and third number after me and still get their numbers called before mine.
I went to a baby shower yesterday and the person kept talking about their long road to this. Yes, she had a long road and many losses and it was difficult for her. And I am so happy for her that she finally is pregnant and having a baby. But in my head, I thought if you think two years is a long road, try being on it for five. I don’t think I deserve it more than her. I just think that standing at a deli counter for five years is torture.