The life of the body is a heart at peace, but envy rots the bones. — Proverbs 14:30
Last night, we were spending time with a group of friends when one couple started playing a video. This couple makes funny videos fairly regularly, so this wasn’t odd. (Though I’m sure anyone reading this can see what’s coming). Sure enough, the climax/surprise of the video was that our friends are expecting a baby, due in October 2010. A beat, then squeals of excitement, hugs, and congratulations filled the room over the triumphant music coming from the the TV speakers.
This is a great couple. They are going to be wonderful, fantastic parents. Their announcement was nothing but pure and completely good news. I wanted to be happy for them. I should be happy for them. But I wasn’t. I felt sick inside. I put on my best smile and said “that’s awesome” and “congratulations,” as well as asking some appropriate questions. But I did not feel happy for my friends. At all. Instead, I felt a clenching tightness in my upper torso, a real physical sensation of…well, at first I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, exactly. Not sadness. Not anger, or resentment. Not annoyance. Then it struck me: it’s jealousy. Pure and simple. And I felt it — felt it physically — in a different way than I can recall feeling any other emotion. A hollow knot was growing in my chest. In my throat. And it felt awful.
As I sat there, smiling and doing my best to appear excited and happy, I began to feel sadness. And this is important: my sadness was not over the fact that my friends are pregnant with their first child, and I am not. I was sad because I had no happiness for my friends in this wonderful moment. None. I was devoid of one shred of a joyful thought for these truly good people, who had something truly good happen to them.
I will not let infertility do this to me. This is not who I am going to be. Though I may be walking in this “weirdly inverted world where an unwed teenage mother [is] envied,” I will not become someone who is dominated by jealousy, such that I cannot muster up happiness when good things happen to people I love.
I want to call this out for what it is: Envy. It is not anger at injustice (which would perhaps be a more apt description of the unwed teenage mother example). It’s not a righteous indignation that something good has happened to someone undeserving, or who doesn’t want it, or who won’t appreciate it. Thomas Aquinas described Envy as a kind of sorrow: “sorrow for another’s good.” That’s precisely what I felt. And I think that whoever wrote the above Proverb (Solomon, perhaps?) was wise to say that this feeling will rot the bones. It is the opposite of a heart at peace.
Writing this all down has already helped me. I actually just started feeling a bit of joy creep in, thinking about my friends’ pregnancy, and I am thanking God for that. It is a beautiful thing to feel true happiness for another person. Perhaps even more beautiful when it is coupled with one’s own unfulfilled desires for that same good news that has not yet come.
**as an aside, if you haven’t read the Modern Love article I linked above, please do. It is truly excellent, and a beautiful example of a marriage strengthened by infertility.
7 comments
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April 14, 2010 at 8:03 pm
Andie
Thank you for your incredible honesty and beautiful writing. I am a person who struggles with envy and the proverb and quote will really give me lots to think about. Just like youl, I want to reject envy and the “rot” it brings into who I am – I want to chose love, life, to the fullest. For me, part of the struggle also involves pride, humility, guilt, and a feeling that life should be fair (is that feeling entitled?) and figuring that part out.
I have just said a prayer for you … your courage in facing this insight is the first step towards change, and I believe that God wants to bring you joy – although you are suffering so much right now. May God bring you through this struggle and bring you peace. Thank you for blessing us with your writing.
Andie
April 14, 2010 at 11:39 pm
Hillary
Beautiful post, and envy is something all of us infertile women struggle with. Thank you for putting words to it.
April 20, 2010 at 8:24 pm
Kathryn
I so identify with this. We lost our only confirmed pregnancy a little after our 1st anniversary. We did so want children.
The doc i work with married 3 years ago & they now have a daughter who is 14 months. I worked monthly (i’m a massage therapist) on the doc’s wife when she was pregnant – & i understood Cain & Abel better than i ever had before. I was SO envious. I would cry thru much of the massage.
It isn’t that i didn’t want them to have a child or other good things. I just wished that we could have that TOO.
I wish we could all “fix it” for each other. But somehow, this is something we have to walk thru.
May 19, 2010 at 6:49 pm
Elizabeth
I feel for you. I am thinking about deleting my facebook account because every time I log on someone else I know is pregnant or announcing their twins. I wonder if it ever gets easier…or if it is possible to get even more bitter than I am right now? Maybe not bitter, probably just jealousy like you said. Whatever it is it makes me cuss like a sailor.
May 19, 2010 at 10:17 pm
Elizabeth
I have had countless similar situations myself recently. I have been having near consuming episodes of panic. The day after our first appt with the RE I cried the entire way to work, spent 15 minutes in the car composing myself just to walk in and have one of my coworkers shove a picture of her 2 adorable little boys in my face. I’m sure I appeared rude because I simply nodded and said “How cute” before walking away. I think envy is the perfect word for my feelings. Thank you for helping me understand myself better =)
July 3, 2010 at 3:44 am
iamstacey
This has started to happen to me, too. And I’ve never been one to feel unhappy for anyone else’s good news, whether it was finding a special someone, getting married, having kids, promotions, etc. My happiness with my own life was never tied to what was happening to other people, so it was easy to feel happy for them. So like you, it’s been disconcerting to start to feel pangs when I hear baby announcements. I hate it that I feel that. It’s not me, but … now it is me.
August 16, 2010 at 1:19 am
Anla
This post says so many things about the way I have felt on several occasions. Thanks for writing the things that many of us feel but are unable to say.