Dear Emily,
We’ve never truly talked about your journey with infertility. It’s been an unspoken topic in our family, but I know you and your partner, Mark, faced years of challenges while trying to conceive before making the heartfelt decision to adopt your two wonderful kids.
I can only imagine the emotional rollercoaster you experienced—questions, heartache, and the difficult choices that lay ahead. Do you keep trying? Invest in IVF? Or choose adoption? You and Mark navigated through this together, and I admire how strong you remained, even when I know there were moments of deep pain.
I want to express my regret that I can easily get pregnant while you cannot. I’m sorry for the times I complained about my own struggles to conceive, which must have felt trivial compared to your long, painful journey. It must have been torture for you to listen to me, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d wanted to scream at me. Yet, you offered your support without hesitation.
When I first became pregnant, I didn’t realize how difficult it would be for you to witness my experience. I was hurt when I felt your disinterest and even mentioned it to Mom when you missed my baby shower. I was upset that you wouldn’t touch my belly or ask about my pregnancy. I see now how self-centered I was, entirely unaware of the storm you were weathering inside.
What does it truly mean to be a parent? You may not have carried a child, but you have so much wisdom and experience in nurturing and guiding your children. You’ve raised them into thoughtful and compassionate preteens, something I deeply respect. While I had the experience of carrying a baby for nine months, I’ve been inspired by how you’ve defined motherhood.
I feared that the tension from my pregnancy would affect your relationship with your new nephew, but when my son was born, it felt like a weight was lifted. Your love for him was immediate and unconditional. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Now, as I prepare to welcome my second child, I see the mistakes I made in the past. I shouldn’t have made everything revolve around my pregnancy when you were facing your own challenges. I promise to be more considerate this time. I won’t inundate you with texts about my pregnancy milestones, like the “watermelon” feeling or the first time I felt hiccups. I realize that what I thought was sharing joy may have caused you more heartache.
Lastly, I’m sorry that I’ll never share this letter with you. You’ve endured enough, and I don’t want to reopen wounds. I’ll navigate this pregnancy quietly, sharing only essential updates like the due date and baby’s sex. I’ll keep my personal experiences to myself unless you express an interest.
Soon, we’ll welcome this new baby, and I can’t wait for you to meet him or her. I know you’ll shower the baby with the same love you gave my son. You are not just a fantastic aunt but an incredible sister too. While I can’t fathom your pain of not being able to conceive, you’ve been a remarkable mother, and I’ve learned so much from you. You were my lifeline when postpartum hit me hard, guiding me through those dark moments.
Now that we are both on this journey of motherhood, our bond has never been stronger. I couldn’t ask for a better sister to walk this path with than you, Emily.
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In summary, while our experiences may differ, the love and resilience within our family remain unbreakable. I’m thankful for you, and I look forward to what lies ahead for us both as mothers.
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