I am a terrible human being. Within the span of four days, two of our fellow infertiles have announced their pregnancies. These couples are our closest sets of friends. We enjoy many of the same interests, but more importantly (or so it felt) we could wallow together in the injustice of infertility. I desperately want to have nothing but the happiest of feelings for our beloved friends. But as happy as I am for them and the end of their long journey trying to conceive, I am filled with self pity.
I know the pain of each passing month with no success. I know the toll it takes on a marriage. I know the heartache of baby showers and first birthday parties. I have known all of these things and so have both of these couples. Why cannot I feel pure happiness for them? They deserve this after all they have been through.
I feel alone. I feel afraid that these people who are so dear to us will leave us behind as other friends have for a world of mom groups, potty training talk, and picking out preschools. I nervously anticipate having to hide my envy and my grief as I watch their bumps grow. I hate myself for this. Why can’t I be happy?
I was totally taken off guard when I got the news from the second couple. It took everything in me to hold in my tears until I got home. I hope she did not notice the look on my face. I hope she wasn’t afraid to tell me her good news, but I know she was. I hate myself for that.
I asked my hubby how he felt and he said “happy.” My grief causes a distance between us. Im hurt at his inability to validate and empathize with me. He is frustrated I can’t just accept our reality.
I need to figure out how I can maintain these precious relationships without letting my grief poison my ability to be a friend. But tonight, I just want to cry. And be alone. And eat chips. And watch the Kardashians.