Just when I start thinking that I'm doing better and that I've figured out this grief thing, I'm struck down again, with tears flooding my eyes and darkeness consuming my heart.

Yesterday, I got a text message from a friend, sending me pictures of his newborn baby. Everytime I hear that a friend is pregnant or in labor, I say a quiet prayer, hoping that all will go well for the parents and the baby. I worry more than they do. They go into the hospital expecting to leave with a baby in their arms, but I know that that's not always the way the story ends. I know first hand that sometimes you need to hand the cold body of your newborn to the nurse, go home and make funeral arrangements.

Thankfully, that didn't happen to my friend. I congratulated him, of course, and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that things went well. But despite this happiness and relief, I felt sad. It's hard to explain...of course I wanted them to go home with a healthy baby, but every new beautiful baby that is born brings me back to the question "why did I get to go home with my baby?". I think I narrowed it down to jealousy - I always found jealousy to be such a horrible, pointless emotion. Nothing good comes out of it. It's not productive, it's not healthy, it's just so ugly. It is really hard for me to admit it, but it's true. I'm jealous of all the new parents who have a perfect newborn to hold and love. I'm jealous that they have a normal and beautiful little family. I'm jealous that they get to take pictures of their baby as he or she discovers the world. Most of the pictures I have of my son were taken after he passed away. I have dead pictures of him. That's what I'm left with.

So, when my friend texted saying that it had been a complicated day for them, I don't know what happened within me. I just lost it. I know that every situation is different and I'm sure it was exhausting, stressful, scary for him...but don't tell me that you had a complicated and tough time at the hospital. If you end up taking your baby home, then you didn't face an ounce of what I went through. Having your child die in your arms is tough. That's a freaking complicated and messed up birth story. I don't know exactly what they went through, but I'm certain in pales in comparison to what we went through. So my reply to him was "at least you have a happy ending".

I feel bad to have written that. I know he was just sharing his experience with me and as a friend, I should have listened and said the right things. I got bitter and angry and that surprised me. I didn't expect to feel so hurt, but I did. I hate that I wasn't a good friend to him...and I also wish he had been sensitive enough to not send me pics of his perfectly newborn baby and to not complain to me about his experience.

Sometimes I wonder how long it will take before my happiness for others is not tainted with some sadness, pain and jealousy. I really hate that I can't just fully share in their joy. I was told by my support friends to be easy on myself, to accept that these are my feelings and that I'm still grieving.

Grief sometimes brings out a side of me that I don't like at all. I'm trying to work through it. I'm trying to get out of this dark place, but it's harder than I thought. This abyss is deeper and darker than I could have imagined. There are days where I see the light and it shines brightly on my face and in my heart. But other days, like yesterday, I feel like I've fallen even deeper and that I'll never get out of it.