I had a lovely month of mental busyness that prevented me from painfully thinking about babies. I think this was due in part to the following things: Satomi was with us, I had a couple acting gigs, I missed going to [my extremely fertile] church, and I hadn't heard of any new pregnancies for weeks.
Then I celebrated three years with my hubs, which meant two years of trying to conceive. That day, I learned of two new pregnancies and one miscarriage among my friends. I felt numb.
The sting returned a few days later.
The new pregnancies sting because not only am I reminded of what I don't (maybe can't) have, I also feel like my very presence steals joy from expecting mothers. They know I can't conceive, so there's an awkwardness. Plus, I'm overly self-aware, worried that my face is saying, "Mention diapers one more time, and I'm gonna fire those smart-aleck comments already gathering on the tip of my tongue."
The miscarriage remind me of the existence of infertility, pain, death, and deferred hope. These particular friends have suffered through infertility for years, and it was extremely painful to learn that their journey wasn't over. It's also painful/scary/difficult to grasp the idea of God giving a child, then taking it away.
I hate writing posts like this, because I don't want to be pitied. But I also feel like it's important for me to share some of what my day-to-day reality looks like. Life can be hard.
Sorry for such a bummer-post. I'll be posting some more upbeat stuff soon too. :)