When friends don't get it.

On Saturday I spent the day with my friend K.  K is 6.5 months pregnant.  You may recall that she was the one who "accidentally" got pregnant.  I posted about her pregnancy here.  I know that things have been tough for her.  Things are not exactly perfect between her and her partner (he hasn't told his parents that they're going to grandparents yet!) and she has struggled in the past with depression.  While we were lining up at Sep.hora, she looked at me and said, "You know what?  I hate being pregnant.  I really hate the way I feel. Ugh."
Really?
You're telling ME of all people that you hate being pregnant?
Seriously?  

Courtesy of Google Images 

I've listened to her endless comments about being pregnant and the baby moving.  
I've gone into maternity stores, buying maternity clothes, buying baby clothes....
I've endeavoured to be a good, supportive friend.  
I've set aside the fact that it hurts me to be doing all of these things.  
I've set aside my pain because I know that she needs me.  
But to complain about being pregnant to your friend who is suffering from infertility is just plain narcissistic and ignorant.  
I looked at her and said, "I know you hate being pregnant, but I would do anything to be in your shoes."  


I think she realized what she said at that point and just shut her mouth.  A few long minutes passed and she said, "I am incredibly grateful to be pregnant.  Don't get me wrong.  I was just a friend speaking to a friend about how she felt."  
I acknowledged her feelings.  But I don't recall her acknowledging mine.
I wish she would just try to put herself in my shoes.  
She has no clue how much infertility hurts.  
How it has the ability to steal your light, your happiness.  
But I don't think she ever will.  


I don't think she has a clue about how I feel.  
About how much it hurts.       

Fitting in?

The day after I made my appointment with Dr. R. the clinic called to let me know that they could fit me in on Tuesday.  I don't know if it's to my benefit or not as he is squeezing me into a 15 min slot.  Can we have a meaningful conversation in such a short time?  I hope so.  On the positive side of things, I'm thankful that I can get started a month sooner in preparation for the next FET.  So rather than waiting until March 26th, I'm getting in almost a month earlier.     

Cartoon Courtesy of
Google Images

Speaking of fitting in, another blogger, Michaela, posted an eloquent piece about being an Outsider and how those who have been on this infertility journey for a while become war weary.  Her post spoke to me.  When I found out that we needed help conceiving, I felt alone and as if no one would understand me.  Then I discovered the IF community online.  I found women who knew exactly how I felt.  My need to belong and to be understood was fulfilled.  But as the months passed, as my treatments continued and failed, I became quite jaded.  Still am.  The IF forums no longer fulfilled my need for understanding and belonging.  What changed?  I don't know.  All I know to be true is that infertility has changed me.  My heart has been broken in ways that I never could have imagined.  I've cried more than I ever thought possible.    


Years ago, my mother took me to a psychic fair.  For my 21st birthday, my mother paid for my palm to be read.  After carefully inspecting the lines on my palm, the palm reader predicted that would have three sons.  I recall being so shocked and dismayed.  "I could never have three boys!" I exclaimed to my mother.  Shame on my fertile loins! The prospect of having three boys frightened me and I was adamant that it would never happen.  Little did I know that my words would become reality.  Now, when I think about my fertility, the glass is definitely half empty.  In a few short months, I'll hit the dreaded 40 and we all know what that means for a woman's fertility.  May as well sound the death knell of my ovaries!  Am I being pragmatic or am I putting up a defense against the failure and disappointment?  Perhaps a little of both.     

39

Today is my birthday.  I'm 39 years old.  My life is good.  I have a husband whom I adore, a home I love, a family I cherish.  On top of that I have an inspiring job, friends who support me, and kitties that make me smile every day.  Yet, I'm living a life unfulfilled.  I want to be a mother.  That's my birthday wish.  A baby before I'm 40.  Please?

I've been on the patches for a week now.  Though I'm not noticing any emotional shifts, my body feels like it's expanding with each day. I feel so freaking bloated.  I hate it  Today, I just wanted to peel off my all my clothes.  Everything is pulling in the wrong direction.  It felt as if my breasts were going to burst from my bra. That would go over well with 15 year old boys!  

Ugh...Soon I increase it to 4 patches.  I can only imagine how uncomfortable I'll be feeling then.  At least if I was pregnant, I would have a reason to be bloated and fat.  But I'm not, so I don't.  

On the plus side, a coworker and I have been working out together and are going to start walking everyday after work.  So I'm going to fight this weight gain/bloat as best I can.  Wish me luck!