The hunter becomes the hunted
Most of our friends just thought that I'd just stay on Infertility Island forever. Yeah, I was one of those vaguely thunderstruck girls who quietly disembarked from the boat, most of my shit in tow. I quietly got my passport stamped and applied for my permanent resident card, and then eventually for citizenship of the fair isle. Yep, that was gonna be my new home. I was okay with it. Heck, eventually I forgot the name of the place and just rolled with it. I briefly considered a run for governor. No one (least of all me) expected that I'd ever leave my new digs and after a bit, I wasn't entirely sure that I even wanted to. I was something of a comfort to others, who managed to think "at least I haven't been here as long as Laurie has." Ah well, it was okay by me. I'd given up on trying to leave. But then the boat came by, and just like poor little Elian, I was spirited away from the only home I could recall.
WTF?
An odd thing is going on in my life right now. Since I'm not sure how to handle it, I've decided to just avoid it and yammer on about it in my blog. That seems harmless enough. I'm all about harmlessness.
I remember when DH and I were actively involved in infertility treatment. I recall feeling so depressed and I was convinced that the drugs were playing with my mind (which is none too stable without the influence of anything). Eventually, I did get to the point where I shunned all pregnant friends (i.e. "so what if we were best friends--you're knocked up, therefore you're dead to me now!"), I somewhat tearfully declined all baby shower invitations, I did not chip in for various office "baby pools" to guess due dates/birth weights/what the hell ever, I secretly seethed when acquaintances announced their happy pregnancy news, I did not go down the "wing" of the mall that housed Gymboree. It got to where when infertile friends announced their pregnancy, all I felt was jealousy for them, instead of my former "hey, score one for our team!". I was bad. I was dark. I was gloomy.
As I type this, I realize that damn, I really went all the way with this bitterness thingy. Typed out, it looks worse than it was. I think. Maybe. Well, dh says no, I was really over the top bitter. What the hell does he know from bitter. I decide to discount his opinion.
Once I dealt with my infertility issues and especially once we adopted our kids and were finally a family, somehow without my noticing I started going to baby showers again, and stopped glaring at random pregnant women finally, and God knows that Gymboree has seen enough of my money in the ensuing years.
Meanwhile, some friends of ours were also enduring IF treatment. While we pursued adoption, they persevered and treatment was eventually beautifully successful for them, and they now have a precious, charming toddler girl. This couple is in our small group of "couple friends". We don't have a lot of these. No, I don't mean swinging or anything, I mean those couples that you go to dinner-&-a-movie with, that kind of thing. DH and I are just too different and our schedule is crazy and whatever else, we just don't have a lot of couple friends. But we are friends with the "Q family". We've all hung out together, my kids got along great with their kid, there was a good age range there, and I've always thought of them as good parents.
Since we'd both suffered from IF at the same time, both of our families were surprised to find out last autumn that yes, both of our families would each be expecting new arrivals come springtime. Sadly, their family lost that pregnancy, right at the beginning of the second trimester. Dh and I were both so sad for them. I already had IF survivors guilt from this pregnancy, and this family's miscarriage only intensified it.
After a complicated pregnancy, and complicated delivery, and dealing with preemie baby struggles in the NICU, I was pretty self-centered. It was only recently that dh brought to my attention that the Q's didn't want to be my friend any more. ME? Because. I'd. had. a. baby. Upon hearing this, I don't know whether to laugh maniacally or to get a bit misty. I mean, me? Sub-fertile Myrtle? This is just all so shocking . . . so sudden.
I'm okay with this. I understand how she feels. I don't really feel like dh & I can spare any couple friends, but we can deal.
Damn, but this is weird. It's like the universe has been turned upside down. Boggles the mind, it do.
WTF?
An odd thing is going on in my life right now. Since I'm not sure how to handle it, I've decided to just avoid it and yammer on about it in my blog. That seems harmless enough. I'm all about harmlessness.
I remember when DH and I were actively involved in infertility treatment. I recall feeling so depressed and I was convinced that the drugs were playing with my mind (which is none too stable without the influence of anything). Eventually, I did get to the point where I shunned all pregnant friends (i.e. "so what if we were best friends--you're knocked up, therefore you're dead to me now!"), I somewhat tearfully declined all baby shower invitations, I did not chip in for various office "baby pools" to guess due dates/birth weights/what the hell ever, I secretly seethed when acquaintances announced their happy pregnancy news, I did not go down the "wing" of the mall that housed Gymboree. It got to where when infertile friends announced their pregnancy, all I felt was jealousy for them, instead of my former "hey, score one for our team!". I was bad. I was dark. I was gloomy.
As I type this, I realize that damn, I really went all the way with this bitterness thingy. Typed out, it looks worse than it was. I think. Maybe. Well, dh says no, I was really over the top bitter. What the hell does he know from bitter. I decide to discount his opinion.
Once I dealt with my infertility issues and especially once we adopted our kids and were finally a family, somehow without my noticing I started going to baby showers again, and stopped glaring at random pregnant women finally, and God knows that Gymboree has seen enough of my money in the ensuing years.
Meanwhile, some friends of ours were also enduring IF treatment. While we pursued adoption, they persevered and treatment was eventually beautifully successful for them, and they now have a precious, charming toddler girl. This couple is in our small group of "couple friends". We don't have a lot of these. No, I don't mean swinging or anything, I mean those couples that you go to dinner-&-a-movie with, that kind of thing. DH and I are just too different and our schedule is crazy and whatever else, we just don't have a lot of couple friends. But we are friends with the "Q family". We've all hung out together, my kids got along great with their kid, there was a good age range there, and I've always thought of them as good parents.
Since we'd both suffered from IF at the same time, both of our families were surprised to find out last autumn that yes, both of our families would each be expecting new arrivals come springtime. Sadly, their family lost that pregnancy, right at the beginning of the second trimester. Dh and I were both so sad for them. I already had IF survivors guilt from this pregnancy, and this family's miscarriage only intensified it.
After a complicated pregnancy, and complicated delivery, and dealing with preemie baby struggles in the NICU, I was pretty self-centered. It was only recently that dh brought to my attention that the Q's didn't want to be my friend any more. ME? Because. I'd. had. a. baby. Upon hearing this, I don't know whether to laugh maniacally or to get a bit misty. I mean, me? Sub-fertile Myrtle? This is just all so shocking . . . so sudden.
I'm okay with this. I understand how she feels. I don't really feel like dh & I can spare any couple friends, but we can deal.
Damn, but this is weird. It's like the universe has been turned upside down. Boggles the mind, it do.
posted by ~L @ 8:59 AM
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