I’m not sure you ever totally get over it. You become accustomed to it. You accept it. You may become content with it. But perhaps you never truly get over it.
When my friends were pregnant, I wished I could experience that. The feel of life inside me was something I would never know. When my friends had infants, I longed for sweet baby cuddles. The 2:00 a.m. feeding was something I would never experience. When my friends had toddlers, I wanted to laugh at the funny ways a little one pronounced words, or experience the happiness of watching them figure out the world. And I did, sometimes, with their children. But it was always from afar.
As time passed, the pain certainly lessened. There would be days, then weeks, then entire months when I didn’t really think about it. We worked on our house, got dogs, then rabbits. I found a job I love. We moved out to the country and got chickens, a tractor, and the sweetest cat in the world. I started graduate school. We designed a house plan and began working toward building.
My friends have pre-teens and teenagers now. There are athletic events to attend, homework to help with, dreams to watch unfold. I’ll never be a soccer mom. I’ll never go on a college visit.
Our niece and her husband have a two-year-old daughter. Our nephew and his wife are expecting a boy in the spring. It is sweet to watch them experience these things, but as always, I watch from afar.
My life is good. It is full. It is blessed.
But there is a small emptiness, even still.