Tag: pregnancy announcements
Status

Fertile Vortex II: Return of the Baby Bumps

I don’t know about all of you, but it seems to me that things in life happen in big waves.

In my mid-twenties, my friends and I all started pairing off into more stable relationships… moving in together, joint checking accounts, co-pet-parenting, and all that jazz.

That was followed shortly thereafter with engagements.

Then bridal shower after bridal shower after bachelorette party.  Dress shopping, wedding planning, alterations, rehearsal dinners…

Weddings.  Upon WEDDINGS.  UPON WEDDINGS, OMG.  (Seriously, the year I got married, I was in three other weddings, attended five others, threw four bridal showers, two bachelorette parties, and that doesn’t even include the four bridal showers and bachelorette party of my OWN I attended.  GAH.)

I was on track with the curve of adulthood back then.  Everything in life was coming together, and my friends and close-in-age family members and I were all set to start moving onto the next step…

Babies.

Of course, you’re here, reading this blog, so you know that this particular step is where the husband and I got a little hung up.

…And five years later, we still are.

So our friends and family members went on to start having their first babies.  That was the Great Baby Influx of 2009-2010.  It was a time whose insanity could only be rivaled by the Matrimonial Stampede of 2008.  It was a time of chaos and joy for all.

Well, most everyone.  We were of course very happy, but a little… put out, I suppose you could say, that our own baby influx was taking some time to ramp up.  Somehow though, as does life, the madness waned, and we were no longer drowning in newborn baby high tide.  We breathed a little easier, and got to work.

We survived those next three years by aggressively pursuing treatments, in a desperate attempt to catch up to those who had left us behind on the parenthood track.  You know the story… We tried, had a small success, but ultimately failed.

That brings us to now.

I have been feeling for some time that the tide is rising again… I think the time of the second (and in some cases, third or fourth) babies is upon us.  All beware the approach of the Fertile Vortex: Part Deux!  (starring Jake Gyllenhaal!)

Dun dun DUNNNN.

No, seriously.  People in my life are having second and third babies all over the place right now.  Even some of my fellow Infertiles are fighting their way out of secondary infertility and giving their first miracles a sibling or two!

Don’t get me wrong, babies are a blessing (and no offense, but the babes of Infertiles are an even slightly bigger blessing!), and good news is GREAT.

There are some of us, however, that can’t physically take good news without a healthy portion of sadness, though…

I wish I weren’t one of those people, but alas, this is the life I’ve been dealt.

As if you hadn’t had enough of my vague metaphors, I feel just like I’m afloat at sea with no view of the shore.  Every baby announcement that comes my way pokes a tiny hole in my boat, and I’m staring to lose hope that I’ll ever make it to dry land.  I fear some days that I may drown in good news.

I will end this morose entry just by saying this:  You guys, this blog, this blessed outlet… you all are my salvation in a rough and unforgiving sea.  Hope may not be visible some days, but because of you, I don’t feel so alone in my struggle for survival.

I’ll make it.  We all will.

 

Status

Growth

A few weeks ago, I got two phone calls on the same day.

Not unusual, I know.

However, they were both pregnancy announcement phone calls…

Actually, because the calls were from people with whom I’m very close, the calls were both handled rather delicately, considering the subject matter, and the receiver of the news.

Actually, both of the calls were handled in exactly a way I’d want to hear that kind of news:  over the phone, and rather bluntly.

Look, if you’re going to tell me you’re pregnant (pregnant again, in both cases), then just do it already.  You know?  The beating around the bush, dancing around the topic, and general easing into it are not fooling anyone, let alone this particular Infertile, who suspects that EVERYONE is pregnant constantly.

Now, in both of these cases, I had expected the news to come at some point.  I can’t say that I was surprised, and I feel like I handled the phone calls rather well.

Then again, I think I always do.  No breakdowns till after we hang up, promise!

But then the strangest thing happened… I got off the phone, and I didn’t break down.

I was okay.  I was happy.

I was happy for these people I love, having siblings for their little ones.

I was happy that others don’t have the problems I do…

I can’t say that I didn’t feel that familiar old sting of jealousy, but it didn’t last.

I was okay.

I am okay.

I don’t know why I didn’t get upset… I usually do.

I just know that since that day, and those two calls, I have felt less… bitter.

It’s freeing, in a way, to know that I can be happy about babies again.  It’s nice not to feel like I have to run and hide from the pregnant girls in my office, or tune them out when I hear them talking about their pregnancies.

(Don’t get me wrong, if you complain daily about how much you hate being pregnant and how you can’t wait for this to be over, I will block your Facebook posts.  I mean, I’m strong, but I can only take so much!)

It’s nice to feel less negatively affected by others’ good news, but it worries me a little.

I think to myself, “Is this growth, or am I subconsciously giving up?”

Now I know how ridiculous that sounds, that just because I don’t feel so overwhelmingly ME vs. THEM lately, that must mean that I no longer want a baby so badly.  It’s just an evil little thought that’s crossed my mind…

And it’s not even a little bit true.

I do want a baby.  Several, if possible!  I know that the road to get to this point has been rough and fraught with potholes and grief, and there may still be a long journey ahead, but my desire to be a mother is definitely present, full and strong.

Maybe I am growing.  Maybe I’m learning to cope.

Maybe I’m just tired of being depressed about what others have and what I do not…

Maybe I’m so totally over living in fear of ultrasound photos popping up on Facebook.

Maybe I know now that since I’ve been to the bottom of the barrel, I can handle anything else life throws my way.

Maybe, just maybe, I will come out of this thing with everything I want, including my sanity, relationships, and my own family.

Maybe.

One day.  🙂

 

 

Status

Crybaby.

September 13th, 2011.  CD14.

*Warning – Pity Party Ahead*

I’m really tired of getting happy, joyous, absolutely wonderful news from people I love and then feeling terribly sad about it.

And I’m tired of feeling guilty about feeling sad.

And I’m tired of eating my feelings.

…Okay, that last part’s not entirely true. I do love ice cream, and even pregnancy announcements from very dear friends that make me happy and sad and guilty do not diminish my love for frozen sugary treats.

Anyway, on my drive home yesterday, I received “the call” from someone very close to me, who shall remain both nameless and description-less so as to protect her happy news from going public before she’s ready… Someone who I know is reading this post now, and has probably been anxious about my reaction since the day she found out she was expecting. Someone who is such an important part of my life, and who has had her share of ups and downs on this road to motherhood, that it makes me feel like absolute dogshit to even feel anything but pure joy at her news.

I’m selfish. I try not to be. I try to give it to God and all of that. It’s just hard to hear other people’s good news and not feel bad for myself and my dried up, lonely uterus. It’s also hard to feel like such a burden to the people close to me. I hate the thought that they have to think about how they will tell me about their pregnancies and take into account how I will feel when they have just received the best news of their lives.

I should be the last thing they are worried about… But infertility puts me–and my fertile loved ones–in a delicate position.

And so, I cried a little in the bathroom at work today.

Not because this news hurt me to hear, or because I’m an emotional mess who does this a lot, but because I realized, almost 24 hours later, the overwhelming enormity of my situation.

Of my five closest friends, four have conceived in the past three years. The only other one who hasn’t, just got clearance from her oncologist to proceed in the baby-making direction after a nine-month battle with lymphoma has left her in remission. I pray that the radiation and chemo didn’t damage her reproductive system, and that she won’t have to go through treatments to have the child she so desperately wants.

But when that happens, I will probably cry again.

And If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it clearly now: I am not a crier.

It must be that it’s harder to hear from the people closest to you. I see pregnancy announcements on Facebook all the time, and while they annoy me and eat away at my confidence a little, they don’t make me feel so desolate.

My workplace is also filled with people celebrating pregnancies and babies and their children’s milestones.  I get emails at least twice a week announcing coworkers’ new additions, complete with smiling hospital photos of mom and baby.  As I type this (on a break at work, of course), the guy sitting behind me is on the phone with his wife apparently figuring out that no, she is not in labor, but the doctor wants to schedule an induction for Monday if baby hasn’t yet arrived. A whole group of male coworkers has now gathered and is asking questions that sound so humorous to me…

“Has your wife had an exam this week?”

“Is she effaced at all?”

“I bet the doctor will strip her membranes before they try anything else.”

Ew. And also, LOL. Men shouldn’t talk about membranes unless they have an “MD” after their name.  They should just hand out cigars and be done with it.

New life is everywhere…  Everywhere except my midsection, I guess.

I really shouldn’t complain. My friend’s pregnancy will be high-risk, and I know that the road ahead is going to be a tough one for her. I will do everything I can to be there for her, regardless of what is or is not going on inside of me at the moment.  The same way she has been there for me through all of this, and the same way she took such great care to be sure I didn’t hear her news from anyone but her.

I’m so happy for her, truly. Seriously. Ecstatic. And supportive, and understanding, and excited!

…And yet, I’m sad for myself. And craving carbs. I might eat a loaf of bread for dinner. And cry a little. Because being bloated and puffy-eyed is exactly what our robot-sex-life needs right now.

And when I’m done with my pity party, I will pick myself up off the floor and start thinking up ideas for my friend’s baby shower, because she’s one of my favorite people, and she and her little person deserve the best darn shindig this barren broad can possibly throw.

 

As sad as I am for myself, I am happier for you.

I love you, Admin. 

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