A Punch in the Gut

      Normal, everyday life is comprised of a series of little surprises. Some good, some bad, and most are average. These mini events lead to happiness, joy, anxiety, excitement,  and anger. You name it, and you feel it over the course of a given day. In the Land of Infertility, nothing stings more than an unexpected pregnancy announcement. In fact, I wouldn't even say it stings. It's more like a punch to the gut.

Over the past few weeks I've been trying to heal from a chemical pregnancy and the overwhelming journey that 2015 has brought me on. Between therapy, my mind/body group, acupuncture and mediation, I've really worked hard at keeping my calm during this storm. I've finally stopped feeling like a kicked dog every time I see a pregnant woman, and I've stopped rolling my eyes at them. Now, I mostly study them walking throughout the stores, conducting their pregnant business as if they are curious creatures who, by virtue of getting pregnant, have performed a magic trick for which I will never know the secret.

I have begun to accept infertility, and have learned to expect that everyone I know will end up pregnant, and will likely give birth before I do. I have a tally in my head of friends who are pregnant, those who are trying, and those who will likely try soon. It's a not a sick obsession (although I'm sure my husband would beg to differ), rather, it's a protective mechanism. If I can stay on the defensive and on top of this fertility roster in my mind, then I won't ever fall victim to the unexpected pregnancy announcement, for I know when to expect them all.

Yesterday I found myself on the losing end of that game, with a one-two punch to the gut. In a 30-second time span, I received news that my father was in the hospital and may be having a heart attack, and that a college friend of mine and his wife are expecting. The pregnancy notice came complete with a group text (to ensure that you constantly have to re-live this information with every response from the group) as well as an ultrasound photo. The worst.

The group text messages began pouring in, with everyone exchanging excitement and due dates. I was still disoriented about the news of my father and simply responded to the text with "Congrats. Please remove me from this group text." I then tried to re-focus my energy on my dad, who, while still hospitalized, did NOT have a heart attack, but is awaiting further cardiac function tests over the next day or two.

I knew my friend and his wife were going to begin trying last winter. I knew she would likely get pregnant soon. I'm guessing it took them about 9 months to get pregnant, which is better than hearing it happened immediately, but still. A group text complete with an ultrasound photo is as bad as it gets. I would love to say that I'm someone who "is happy for other people but sad for myself" but that simply isn't true. I'm not happy for them. I'm not excited for them. I don't wish them harm. I don't wish them trouble conceiving. I just am blah about the whole thing.

In an abstract way, I feel that each person who gets pregnant moves me further away from pregnancy myself. I know that is not true, and I know that another person's pregnancy has nothing to do with me, but each announcement is another reminder that everyone else is able to do something that I can't. And that sucks. Badly.

I did go on to apologize to my friend and explain the news of my father and through gritted teeth, I extended another congratulatory message. For now, I walk away from another gut punch, bruised, but okay.