To all the girls I’ve muted on Instagram

It’s not you, it’s me.

I’m happy for you, I really, truly am. I’ve always loved kids and babies, and I can feel your joy emanating through my phone screen. I will slap a big fat “like” on your pregnancy announcement post, leave a comment if we’re reasonably close, then mute you for the foreseeable future.

I don’t know your story, and jealousy is definitely Not Very Christian of me. Maybe your journey has been long and tumultuous, far worse than mine, but I just can’t hang around to know. During the big “baby announcement holidays” (which is pretty much all of them, but especially Christmas) I try to stay offline altogether.

Milestones are hard, right? Whether it’s other people growing their families, getting married, traveling the world or standing in front of a how-the-hell-could-they-afford-that? piece of real estate somewhere in the suburbs. I think we all subconsciously compare ourselves to our peers–people with which we were, at one time or another, on the same wavelength.

It’s just so difficult to visualize something you’ve never had. I can’t see anything working for us, because it never has. I can’t imagine two pink lines or a “Pregnant” popping up on Clear Blue Digital, because I’ve never experienced that feeling. We can’t just intellectualize and manifest and envision one of these treatments working, because it’s the peak of a mountain with so many obstacles on the climb up. One day at a time is the only way to keep going, and the distraction of envy and self-pity is too heavy to carry.

Someday, I will be you. And I will unlock the new fears and anxieties that come with pregnancy, birth and parenthood. But for now, the feeling of being left behind is too much.

We all curate our own environments, and I’m sure I’ll come back to see how you’re doing things one day. But not today.