Crying when someone actually acts in a sensitive manner.
My closest friend here, S, is due in mid-August with #2. (She got pg when I was pg and we were very excited to be able to be pg together.)
Some of her friends from the department (with whom I am friendly with but not friends) are throwing her a shower (a "pamper the parents" thing since they have the baby stuff from #1) in a few weeks. I played phone tag with her friend K for 2 days, finally connected this afternoon. She wanted to let me know what they were planning, and that an "e-vite" would be going out, but didn't want to just send it to me, without talking to me.
Clearly this action was guided by S, who has been very sensitive about all this and is actually including work on infertility/loss/"un.motherhood" in her dissertation. K said that S was fine with me going or not going, just wanted me to do what was most comfortable for me.
I told K straight off that I appreciated her letting me know, and that I would probably not go, but perhaps send a gift. She said something sweet about how she knew she hadn't been in touch, but had been thinking about us and hoping we were doing okay, etc. My voice started to choke at that point, but she changed the subject and we made small talk about summer plans and other things.
The shower is being held 5 doors down in my development. The host, D, is a woman who came out about her pregnancy (or was outed) at S's first baby shower. (She has never looked me in the eye once, and I, for some reason, have always made her appear very uncomfortable). The shower that was held at my apartment. Two and a half years ago. Right after I had made the appointment for the initial consult with the RE.* I got my period on the day of that shower. And found out that my dear friend JK was 3 months pg with #2. On that day.
So, yeah, that shower was a bit fraught for me. Maybe that's why D always looks at me funny. When she looks at me.
K finally reached me as I pulled into my driveway this afternoon. All I could think, as I was crying, walking into the house, up the stairs... I don't even know. Thank god she called to talk to me instead of just sending it. Thank god I didn't feel compelled to go. But goddammit, I should be going. I should be trying to figure out what I'd do with my 2-month old boys while I was there at the shower, part of the club, 5 doors down.
That first shower two and a half years ago was hard. I should not be in this place now. I'm grateful for the sensitivity, but it only makes it more clear what I still don't have. Where I still am not.*
How relieved I was, for a little while, to be moving past that place of infertility and childlessness. How much I want back in that club. The Mommy Club. How much I don't want people to be thinking of me with "oh, how awful" attached.
How broken my heart is. And continues to be.
And it's just not getting better. One or two steps forward = 3 or 4 steps back. Way back. I haven't called any of the trauma people. I was doing better. I was.
And now I'm not. I don't even know if I have the wherewithal to call. I'm at such a loss. I should be doing better.
But I'm not.
*Just to measure that two and a half years in IF-time, that's 9 IUIs (6 clomid, 3 injectible), at least 8 or 10 natural cycles (hahaha), 1 laparoscopy, 3 chemical pregnancies, 10 or more blood tests for RPL, 1 twin pregnancy, 1 PPROM at 20 weeks, 1 IUFD, 1 labor induction, 2 dead baby boys and at least $12-14K out of pocket (thank you, financial aid) for treatments, procedures, copays, medications, hospital stays and therapy. And I'm exactly as close to being a mother of living children as I was at S's first shower.