I could unload all the horrible, yucky stuff about secondary infertility and miscarriage until I get it all out of my system. The problem with that is that it's not all I think about and it doesn't consume my entire life. I also don't want to seem like I'm whining all the time. Yep, part of my life really stinks and I pray it were different. I also know that there are so many others who have been given much heavier crosses to bear. I need to remind myself occasionally to count my blessings instead of my burdens.
I could focus just on the light fluffy fun stuff - silly things my girls do, my domestic failures, fun link-ups, etc., but that's not all of who I am either. Besides, there are only so many ways I can write about my knack for burning dinner before we all get bored.
That leaves me with what I originally said I'd do - a mixture of the two. Despite my concerns that people may comment on the state of my mental health after I follow up a post about how much I want another baby with a story about how bananas the two children I have drive me, that's exactly what I'll do. Because THAT is my life, thanks in part to massively imbalanced hormones that refuse to be subdued. Be glad you don't have to spend time in my head - it's a scary place. So comment away.
Today, as the post title suggests, I'll return to the topic that I started this blog with - what secondary infertility means to me. It's taken me a while to get back to this, partly because my miscarriages have been on my mind more than infertility, and partly because it took me a while to sort my running list into categories and add checkboxes so I can mark off when I've written about each thought. It's still not in a spreadsheet, but this will have to suffice.
Okay, now that I've bored you all into clicking over to a more interesting, less wordy part of the internet, here goes.....
Secondary Infertility is....
Seeing pregnant bellies everywhere
You know how after you learn a new word, you suddenly see that word in all sorts of places? Or after you purchase that car that you think is such a unique color that you'll be able to spot it in even the most crowded parking lot, but then you realize every fourth car on the road is that same exact color? The same goes for pregnant women. As soon as you find yourself unable to conceive (or carry a baby to term), suddenly all you can see is an army of women waddling toward you.
Jocelyn scribbled this when she was 18 months old, just a week before Meredith was born. Does anyone else see a pregnant woman, or is it just me?
Some of the infertility resources tell you to steer clear of places expectant women are likely to be. I have no idea how easy that is for women with primary infertility, but it's darn near impossible for those of us with secondary infertility. Pretty much anywhere the girls enjoy going - the library, the parks, the children's museum, to name a few - are full of young, growing families. Add in participation at a church that is full of families open to life and weekly errand days that are shared with retired people and other stay at home moms. Unless we stayed home every day and kept the shutters closed (which introverted me is more than willing to do, but the girls aren't on board), I'm bound to bump into a belly or two or ten nearly every day.
A lot of days, I have no problem with that. I won't lie and say I don't notice, but I can laugh it off. One day, about a year or so ago, I'd had one of those days when I couldn't turn around without feeling someone else's unborn baby kick me in the elbow. That evening I turned on the tv to a cooking show on PBS, figuring that would be safe. The chef was pregnant. All I could do was laugh.
Other days, it's much harder to take. I'm pretty used to it now, so it doesn't bother me as often. My hormones right now are in a really volatile state of attempting to recover from miscarriage, adjusting to a supplement change, and probably entering a new phase of perimenopause. That means I have no idea what emotion will dominate any given situation. I'm a whole lot of fun. Pray for Jon.
On Sunday, I found myself sitting in our usual spot in church, give or take a few pews. For whatever reason, though, most of the people around us were not the ones we usually sit near . One possible reason could be Meredith's month long regression into two-year-old behavior during Mass a few weeks back that caused everyone around us to find a new favorite pew. Anyway, as I watched the pews fill in, I saw a young mom expecting a baby sitting a few rows in front of us. Not a problem. Then came a family with 6 or 7 young children and a mom who appeared to be in those uncomfortable last few weeks. Hmm....still okay. Another large family that will be adding a new member in a few months filed in behind us. Seriously? Where are the elderly people in the parish today? I was still holding it together though. Then, as we stood for the Gospel, a movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. A boy a few pews up from us, put his hand on his mom's tummy to feel his baby brother or sister kicking. That was the straw that broke me.
I spent the rest of Mass trying to refocus being attentive to the Mass and simultaneously attempting to pass off my tears as allergies. Do you have any idea how hard it is to leak tears without any Kleenex? I don't bring a purse into church anymore because it's too much of a temptation for Meredith, but I might need to take a pack of tissues with us in case my hormones get the better of me again. I don't think my "wow these allergies are making my eyes water" nor my "I have such a headache I need to take my glasses off and rub my eyes (and then wipe my wet hands on my skirt)" tactics fooled anyone. There will likely be a new group of people trying to avoid sitting near us next week.
Today was better. We ran our weekly errands and despite the fact that I was sandwiched between two pregnant women in the checkout lane at the grocery store, my "allergies" didn't act up at all. However, a few 80s songs playing on Spotify later in the afternoon caused a brief flare-up. I'm not telling which songs.
Okay, is anyone still reading? Probably not. I don't blame you a bit. If I wasn't writing it, I would have stopped reading too. This is way too long, but I'm too tired to edit. I'm just going to hit publish and go to bed so I can lie awake for a few hours courtesy of the return of my insomnia.
I'll be back tomorrow --or sometime later this week -- with a post about gratitude and there will likely be an amusing picture of at least one of the girls.
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