This has been plaguing my mind for days now. Ever since I heard that a friend of my husband’s is expecting a baby with a girl he doesn’t really know so well. They were just messing around and now they’re planning a family and a future together. And then I heard that two other couples we know, who just got married, are now expecting. I also have three girlfriends who are about to give birth in the coming weeks. And recently a girl I went to school with, who got married on the same day as me, just gave birth to a baby girl. The storks have been busy this year, for some people. None of them experienced IF issues and all got pregnant quickly.
So you can understand why some days it just seems that everyone is pregnant. Except me. I know this is an exaggeration. I know a lot of couples are going through IF too. My blogging experience has shown me that. All the wonderful people I meet through the blogosphere, who have been and are still on their IF journeys, helps me to realize I am not alone.
But in my life outside of the blogging world, it really feels like I am the only one. I’m so tired of not being the one with any good news. And it especially hurts when I hear about a pregnancy that was not even wanted, when it’s problematic. Recently a fellow blogger, Through the Eyes of a Stranger, blogged about her experience at the clinic where she and a 16 year-old girl went to get tested, sadly Stephanie got a negative, but the 16 year-old was positive, and she was devasted.
Why does it work this way? Why do people who desperately want children, who are completely ready to give them a loving and stable home, remain without, no matter how hard they try? And why do people who are not ready for a baby, who are totally unprepared, seem to get pregnant at the drop of a hat?
I don’t want to come across bitter. I do sympathize with those who have become pregnant in difficult circumstances - I used to work as an activist for young women’s reproductive health issues. I get it, I do. But recently I’ve found it harder to accept given my current predicament. And with every pregnancy I hear about it just brings home our emptiness, our failures. I don’t want to be this woman. I want to be happy for people when they are expecting (when that’s what they want). I want to take it all in my stride and say to myself, one day it will be your turn. One day.
For me the biggest challenge will be this upcoming Summer. There are two family weddings in July. One from my side, one from Mr. T’s. There is always a wedding from Mr. T’s side of the family. At least one, every year, since he has over 70 cousins, and over 30 aunts and uncles. His Grandma had 11 children. And the older generation of aunts and uncles had at least eight kids each, too. You get the picture.
And then there we are. Mr & Mrs Barren Von Barren. At last year’s weddings, we had only been married for 6 months, so nobody expected to see any babies yet, but a pregnancy? Yes that was asked about. By nearly every one of the 400 people at the wedding. But at that point we had no idea we had a problem. We thought it would all happen in due course.
Now I am faced with the imminent prospect of having to reappear at another family wedding, with the same people, all asking the same question. But this time it will be more intense. This time I’m sure people will ask ‘What’s wrong, don’t you want children?’ I don’t think I can face that. Even if people are nice about it and instead give us a knowing smile and a reassuring hug. I don’t think I can take our infertility being under such an intense spotlight, while the next generation of children are running around and the new babies lie in their mothers’ arms. My heart aches just thinking about it. Am I going to avoid going to this wedding because of this? I just don’t know.
The other wedding, the wedding from my side of the family, will not be like that. It’s a different culture, with different expectations, and most of my very very small family, especially in comparison to Mr. T’s, will not ask. The only person who will have a problem with this is me. I’m the one who set up a TTC schedule in my head. I’m the one who has a problem with passing another birthday (in July) with still no pregnancy news – thirty is looming over the horizon for me and I always thought I’d have my first child before then.
I’ve got to learn to let go of all the pressure I’ve built on myself, to stop caring what people think, to let the ill-thought words just wash over me and come out the other side calm and serene, ready to tackle the infertility path that lies before us. But of course, as many of you know, this is easier said than done. Much much easier.
How do you stay sane? Do you avoid pregnant friends? Friends with babies? Family weddings? Or does that just make you a bitter person?? Whatever I do in life I want to do it with compassion, hope and dignity, and that includes infertility. While I walk this road I want to do it with my head held high. But I can already feel my eyes staring at the ground beneath me, unwilling to meet the gaze of those standing on the opposite path, and every step I take on this lonely uncertain journey feels like forever.
