So I’m having a little trouble navigating the tricky world of pregnant friends right now. It seems that yes, pregnancy is the most important thing in their worlds and my world but, I tell you, nothing brings a conversation which includes a pregnant woman to a screeching halt like the mention of fertility treatments. Infertility. The anti-pregnant.
Now I am a big girl and can admit that pregnant strangers are people I don’t like. And pregnant acquaintances, co-workers, friends of friends and so on, well I’m not really keen on them either. So they have been easy to avoid. But my pregnant friends? I like them. Not even the writhing mass of the green monster I try keep quiet in my handbag can make me turn on them (though when they first tell me that they’ve joined the other side I generally need a moment or a day to cry it out – heck, I’m only human). But I’m having a hard time talking to them.
My days are filled with research on fertility treatments, mourning negative cycles, mustering hope for the cycle to come. Trying to figure where we’re going to find 10 G’s to fund our expansion from couple to family, oh and then the next 10 G’s if we want to try again. Thinking about needles, and needles and needles and that lovely ultrasound wand that has explored more of my nethers than the varsity soccer team that lived on my floor in second year and has yet to buy me so much as a coffee in return.
Their days are filled with kicks and expanding waistlines and prepping for mat leave and baby names and should they teach sign language? and I’m just not sure what to say.
In a group of pregnants, me, the anti-pregnant, and the neutrals, everyone is uncomfortable. They want to hear how I’m doing but don’t want to talk about the dark side with the glowing in the room. They want to hear about the pregnancy but don’t want to upset the barren. Speed bumps in conversation at every turn.
I made a pact with myself to come out of hiding (these last few negative cycles took their toll on me) and get out there and spend time with my friends. Then I started this blog. Because after a couple of weeks of friend time I realized I had much to say – and it’s all stuff they’d rather not hear.
Now you may be thinking, that’s not true, they’re your friends and want to support you. But nothing makes someone who’s not going through this – especially someone who got pregnant the old fashioned way on month 2 of trying – want to talk about the weather more than the confession that you’re nervous about the egg retrieval because having a needle stuck up your who-ha, through your who-ha, into your what-nots is scary. And more scary is finding there’s nothing in your what-nots to retrieve.
Speed bumps I tell you.