My breath completely escaped me. I fought to restrain the lump in my throat that was creeping up, which I dare not let out, since it would only bring sobs of painful embarrassment. Her words punched me so hard in the gut I was physically winded…. I had only just met her, how could I hate her so much already?
I miss the old me. The one who was excited for baby announcements. The me that couldn’t wait to go shopping for her friends baby showers. The me that was loving that moment in life when all her friends were getting married and having babies, because that was the period in time in which we were in. It was exciting. We were growing up, falling in love, creating families and doing it together. I miss those days or putting a a pillow under your shirt to help imagine what you are going to look like when you are pregnant….now I put a pillow under my shirt because I fear that this will be the only way to ever see what I would have looked like if I had ever been as lucky as my friends.
On my way to work, I was stuck in traffic on a very icy, very dreary and very cold Chicago morning, when a Jeep went past with the saying “You get one life, live it well” on it’s spare tire. I started thinking about how I wish people were more excited about life…you know, like in the 1920’s, when women would get giddy to go out and meet boys at a dance club. Now it’s just women dressing up like whores, going out with an “I’m the hottest girl in the bar, don’t think about talking to me, I’m better than you” attitude. Where did the excitement go? And then I thought about facebook. The posts of stupid things like, people taking pictures or 54 degrees on their car thermometer to show everyone the temperature in January. (We know…we can feel it.) Or the one-hundred-thousand pictures of your friends dog in different sweaters and poses. How about the pictures on there of college graduations, weddings, and yes, those dreaded ultrasound pictures. Then it hit me. People ARE excited out there. We post thing on facebook, because we are excited and want to share. Have I ever taken a picture of the 5 lanes of taillights bumper-to-bumper in heavy traffic and posted it? Of course! Stupid to most people, I am sure, but I was excited because, being from a small town, it’s a picture of pride. A picture of “Look at what this small town girl is doing! She’s running with the big dogs, shes driving, swearing and jamming out the the radio during Chicago Rush hour traffic!!”.
We shouldn’t take the excitement away. We need more of it. I know the announcements kill us, and take our breath away, but imagine if you were the one posting it.
Once I arrived (late) to work today, I logged into my computer, and herd my boss gather up the people I haven’t met yet, to bring them around to meet me at my desk. As we went around she introduced me to a much younger girl on our team. She seemed nice. she told me her name followed by, “I’m pregnant, so I’ll only be here for a couple of months” and she rubs her still-flat belly…..how, how is this girl who can’t be more than 21 pregnant. She’s not married and she lives with her parents. Why, why not me?! After I tried bringing the oxygen back into my lungs, I said, with an Oscar-worthy performance, “Oh! (smile) how exciting!”… in my head I was thinking ‘Must fucking be nice, now tell me how the fuck you did it!…also, I fucking hate you’.
Then she did the unthinkable to an infertile. “Do you have any kids?”, she asked…perfectly harmless questions, unless you’ve been fucking trying for three god-damn years! …why, WHY does that bother me so much. It’s like they judge. YEs, I’ve been married for 3 years, yes I’m 27 years old, yes we own our house and no, we don’t have kids…..I wanted to kick her in the shins and run to the bathroom and cry. Instead, I gave her the same line I’ve been practicing and telling everyone, “Oh, (smile) not yet, we’ve had a lot going on the last couple of years”…and by “a lot going on” I mean peeing on a stick to see when I’m ovulating, taking my temperature every god-damn morning, chocking down meds that make me hormonal and sweaty, offering-up my vagina monthly to my doctors for them to poke and prod at, getting blood drawn, and did I mention countless hours of weeping and feeling angry, bitter and empty?
But she’s excited…why would I take that away from her. She doesn’t know what I’ve been going through, we met 5 minutes ago.
I brought an OPK today to pee on at work. Negative. In fact, they were starting to get darker, and I had the starting of EWCM, and now it’s all gone. What the fuck is that. I’m on CD 16, and nothing. 100 mg of Clomid and I still manage to fail epically.