Jack, 8 days old. Did I even realize how precious and beautiful the baby was that I held in my arms?

I held two newborns this past week. One was two weeks old, the other just three days from his mama’s womb.

For me right now, that’s a big, big deal.

The first was almost forced upon me. But I’m glad she did, because when I held him and gazed upon his perfect little body I didn’t respond like I thought I would. It was easier than I expected it to be, but I find most everything is easier when you’re not crying. I soon detached myself mentally and physically from him because the tears were welling in my eyes and the fears were coming fast and there were people around. He felt awkward in my arms, and I was jittery and nervous. It’s a good thing he was hungry and our time together was short, but it was enough to instill inside of me a few drops of longing again.

The second was a long-awaited day that came all too fast. Didn’t I still have months left to prepare myself to hold him? I knew the day would eventually come, but even with the prayers in my heart I found myself unprepared when I gazed upon his naked little body, so similar to Amelia’s. I also found myself strangely unprepared for the amount of love and affection Jack showed toward the baby. I cannot seem to erase the vivid memory of joy and pride that swept across Jack’s face as he gently held and admired the new babe. I can’t erase the tender kisses he gave, so thoughtfully placed on the baby’s forehead, and the soft way in which he caressed the baby’s hair, clearly in awe. I can’t erase the eagerness Tyler had for weeks to hold the baby, and the subtle wetness in his eyes as he smiled at me when he finally did. He was happy, but didn’t he too wish this was us?

It took every bit of me to keep the tears at bay during our short visit.

But then later the ugly cry came; it always does when I try to escape feeling for too long. I tried to hide my feelings of bitterness and jealousy – these weren’t emotions I ever thought I would feel. After all, my sister had two healthy babies last year while I had none, so it was kind of an emotion I had to get over really quick. Life isn’t fair and you deal with it.

But I was feeling it now – apparently the level of numbness I’ve adapted to can only keep certain emotions at bay for so long. I shouldn’t feel jealousy. I’m embarrassed and ashamed – this isn’t an emotion I want to feel towards some of my dearest, closest friends. I fell down on my knees to my Heavenly Father – where did this come from and how can I make it stop? But it has still been creeping up inside of me like a weed, unexpected and unwanted. And though I do my best to stifle it, it still hurts me deeply inside.

Can’t I have one, too, right now? Where is my baby, my little newborn Amelia? Where are my long, sleepless nights? Where is my skin-to-skin time and baby bubble baths? I don’t know what I want, or what I expect. This is a foreign feeling I have to work through and come to terms with. I’ve never felt so much shame to feel an emotion. I’m embarrassed and confused. I’m uncomfortable with myself. Is this to be expected as part of the grieving process?

But I held them. I held two babies, and I didn’t cry in the moment I did it. I felt the joy and love that comes from a squishy, wrinkled baby’s face, and the peaceful heaven that surrounds the home in those first few days.

And I finally want that again. I want to be them, but be me, with my own child. It’s different when it’s your own. And I think in the end, if any good is to come from this, I finally want what they have.