Still not over it

We’re supposed to go see our friends this weekend, the ones who had the baby a couple weeks go. I scheduled the visit so I can’t blame anyone else for it. It’s entirely my fault.

The thing is, I THOUGHT I wanted to go. I really did. When I made the plans I was excited. It’s been ages since we’ve seen our friends. I want to meet their new addition.

And then today I came across the mom’s new Facebook profile picture, of her family at the hospital on the day their son was born. Everyone looks so happy. The scene is positively idyllic. It really pierced me to my core. It put me in a sour mood and every time I scrolled past it I felt worse and worse. By the end of the day I was curdled milk.

The thing is, I don’t really understand WHAT upsets me about the photo, about my friends’ good fortune. I mean I’m pregnant, right? Shouldn’t this kind of stuff not faze me anymore?

And yet it does. It fazes me. A LOT. It still hurts, really bad sometimes. It still makes me feel like crap. It still reminds me of what we went through and all we still have to get through to bring our own baby home. Seeing what they have just shines a hot spotlight on all the pain and heartache. It just makes it raw and tender and achy again.

I can’t say that I totally understand it. It still surprises me, how much the families that grew while we remained stagnant manage to hurt me. Luckily there aren’t too many of them, only five that have children my daughter’s age or much younger than her with second children already born, some already walking and talking. Luckily there aren’t too many that happened to have children my age or younger who then so easily conceived and birthed their second babies. Their children are 18 months or two years apart. Mine will be 3.5 years apart and I know how crazy lucky I am for that, what so many SIFers would give for such an abbreviated spacing. And yet seeing the families that thrived while we suffered, it still hurts me.

I don’t want it to. I want to have moved on. I want to have complete faith in this pregnancy, in the future arrival of this baby safely into my arms. I assume that certainty would quell the jealous that rages deep inside. I want to feel confident that all will end happily. But I don’t. And seeing these families is a reminder that this is it, our one and only shot, or final chance at having the family we always dreamed of, or at least a version of it. None of our friends understand what that’s like. None of them can know the desperation of letting go of a dream and then having it tentatively handed back to you. They can’t possibly fathom what this means to us, and how fragile it all feels.

These friends, the ones were supposed to see on Saturday, have proven time and time again that they just don’t understand. They’ve exposed their ignorance of our experience at almost every opportunity. They are not unkind or insensitive, they just DON’T GET IT. And how could they? I know if we see them they will be all smiles about my baby bump, gushing about the possibility of our second child as if it were as certain a presence in our lives as the son they cradle in their arms. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve never seen a negative pregnancy test. Never lost a pregnancy so easily achieved. They know nothing of that pain and so they have no reason to fear it.

For some reason I just don’t know if I can be around that right now. I’m just not sure.

I’m not stressed out about canceling  It’s easy to get out of a newborn visit with patient zero in our home; we can easily say that Isa fell sick and we don’t want to expose the baby. It will be easy to bow out and I don’t worry about disappointing them. Disappointing myself, however? Well that will be very easy to do. In fact, it’s already been done.

3 responses

  1. I guess one thing I would try to keep in mind is that maybe you don’t know for a fact that they have never seen a negative pregnancy test (or maybe you do with this couple but not others that you spoke about). Just because kids are appropriately spaced out doesn’t mean that they got pregnant the first month they were back trying. It may have happened three or four months and they did get a few negatives. That being said, I’m not saying that it is entirely like what you went through to get pregnant with your second child. If they are ignorant of your experience maybe it’s best to stay home so that you don’t have to hear uneducated musings from them?

    • I do know that this particular couple did get BFPs the first month trying both times, at least that is what they told me. I’m assuming what they said is true. For the other families I’m not sure.

  2. I understand the feelings you describe. I really do. I get the envy and the anger and the resentment. After all, I have never even been pregnant.

    One thing I do to try to stop myself from being consumed by such negativity is to remind myself that we all get different cards dealt to us in this poker game of life. None of us get 100% great cards and none of us get %100 terrible cards. Yes, they got the fertility card. Infertility is not a hardship they have to face. But don’t kid yourself – they will face others. Just as you will enjoy wonderful blessings they might not. You may not even know if they’ve had other troubles – maybe a cancer scare or a death in the family or an autistic diagnosis or some other awful thing. You may even know about it, but you may not “get it”, and that’s okay. We can be supportive of one another even if we don’t intimately understand each other’s pain.

    I only say these things in the hopes that it might help you to look at this situation with different eyes. It’s okay that you don’t want to go. But please try not to beat yourself up. Try to be kinder and more generous with yourself, and remember, too, that some of your feelings may be heightened because of your hormones – be gentle with yourself, my friend.

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