Damn Right
It should have been me all along.
It should’ve been me who got pregnant.
Me who carried your child.
Me who felt life growing inside me.
It should’ve been me.
Lately, I don’t even recognize myself.
My eyes tear up every time I see a happy couple— A husband kissing his pregnant wife’s forehead, A baby being held with so much love.
And I hate it.
I hate how it breaks me inside.
God, I sound so damn whiny.
But it’s not because I regret the decisions I made.
No— I don’t regret walking away from that marriage.
Not one bit.
I’m just human.
A woman who feels deeply.
Maybe too deeply.
A little too raw, too cracked open by it all.
When my sister-in-law told me the news— That she’s expecting—
I smiled.
I really did.
It is good news.
For her.
For the family.
But deep inside, I felt this sudden sting.
Like a tiny voice whispering: “That should’ve been you.”
But who am I kidding?
After everything that happened,
After all the silent wars and sleepless nights,
I know better than to wish for that kind of future now.
And truth is— I should be grateful.
Grateful I’m not pregnant.
Because if I were, Maybe I wouldn’t have had the strength to finally walk away.
Maybe I’d still be stuck, half-living in a half-love.
Alhamdulillah.
I made the decision.
I chose peace over pretending.
And only Allah SWT knows how hard it’s been.
How many times I’ve forced a smile,
Laughed like I wasn’t breaking,
Told people, “I’m fine,” When I felt like screaming.
How I go through my daily routine like clockwork, So no one starts to worry.
How I fake excitement, Fake joy, Fake strength.
All while my heart is a mess of broken glass.
I hate this act.
I hate pretending I’m okay.
Hoping this is just some cruel dream
And any second now, I’ll wake up in a world where none of this happened.
But let me be clear:
I’m not backing down.
I’m not undoing the decision I made.
I’m just caught in a moment.
A wave of emotion.
A quiet storm.
And that’s okay.
Bismillah.
I’ll walk through it.
One step at a time.
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