Saturday morning, my mom texts “Have you heard about Jenny?” Immediately, my stomach dropped. Jenny is my step-sister, a 23 year old, immature, irresponsible, self-centered party girl who just got married last summer and now parties with her husband. Since we first started trying, I deemed “the worst that could happen” being Jenny getting pregnant before me. I gauged things by, “well, it could be worse, Jenny could be pregnant.” And now here we are; the worst has happened.
I realize it maybe sounds a bit melodramatic, but all the rage I have felt at undeserving people getting to have babies is manifested in my sister. It feels like such a cruel world for my younger sister, whose posts on Facebook consist of hoards of hard alcohol and drunken escapades, to get to have a baby before me. She wasn’t even trying. And want to know how she broke the news? A picture on Facebook of her with “baby on board” written on her stomach. She just found out she was pregnant. Real considerate of your infertile sister who just lost a baby. She didn’t even tell our family first.
The depression I’d been feeling before has multiplied exponentially. I can’t bring myself to congratulate her when I don’t feel happy for her at all. I can’t imagine being around her during the holidays. I’m sure my dad is thrilled, though. He was so excited when I was pregnant that he cried, and now Jenny gets to give that joy to him. Now, even if I get pregnant in the next few months, it’ll be in her shadow. Like some of the specialness and excitement is lost after the first. I should be the one announcing my pregnancy to the world. Why does life have to be like this?