One day. One day of feeling good about something and the next day I’m back in the hole. I fucking hate infertility.
Yesterday was such a good day. I quit my job, I was feeling confident about the change. Still am. I got lots of encouraging messages from you ladies supporting me on this positive step, I felt great. I woke up feeling lighter and hopeful for the future.
I even made plans to see a friend, R, whom I haven’t seen since before my last miscarriage. I haven’t seen her for that long because she is not the kind of person I can speak to about our losses and infertility. She is the person who once told me to “pretend the babies weren’t real. Pretend like they never happened.” You get where I’m coming from.
But today, in light of recent change, I thought I could actually get together with R and not discuss TTC but just catch up like old times, talk about the new job. I mentioned this morning to the Husband that that I was seeing her tonight as I know he caught up with her man a few weeks ago. He called me later this afternoon to tell me that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to see her tonight. When I asked him why and he explained he has a hunch, based on his conversation with her other half, that they might be expecting and that she might drop the baby bomb on me.
Interesting. OK well there is only one way to find out. Me being me I cut to the chase. I am not going to allow myself to be blindsided in a one-on-one this evening so I texted her that I needed to know before I saw her if that was the case. It didn’t come out quite as I planned and I may have sounded a little mental but I got the message across that I couldn’t handle being put on the spot right now.
People seem to be making a habit of putting me on the spot with this kind of news, as if it’s easier that way, face to face. No no no! Give it to me in a text, an email, a letter. Some format so I don’t have to see your face or hear your voice and so I don’t have to run away with tears in my eyes or so you don’t hear my sobs in the background. Some way so I never have to see you again. Give me impersonal. It’s the only way.
Well turns out the Husband was right. I know you know that feeling. The drop of the stomach muscles,the nausea, the throat constricting, the welling up of eyes, the lack of concentration, the complete feeling that life is passing you by.
She confirmed it to me by text thankfully. This is the same friend who confided in me her fear that she might never get pregnant because of her erratic periods. They have been trying for two months. Two bloody months.
I learned after a very confusing text exchange that actually my husband has known since his chat with her man. That he has been keeping it from me thinking this would be adding insult to injury after learning of my SIL’s pregnancy and the AMH bomb. That he was trying to protect me from additional pain. They told him so he could tell me when he thought I was ready. Nice thought. Except he didn’t. Except I wasn’t ready. Except I found out from her. Except it backfired in his face. In my face.
What makes this so hard is that we had explicitly agreed with the Husband that under no circumstances will he ever keep this kind of news from me. Not ever. I need to know immediately what he knows. I will not be kept in the dark. It’s not fair. Everyone tip-toeing around me, like they could blow me over with a single breath. Everyone in the know but me. No. I would rather hear it from him yes, but he should have told me straight away. He promised me.
And now I am crushed. I am hurt. I am furious. He explains that it was all for my protection but screw that. This is not protecting me. This is ostracising me even more than I ostracise myself. He has finally admitted that he needed a reprieve. A reprieve from me. From my tears. From my meltdowns. Instead, if he had told me when we learned of the other shit news, I probably would have laughed like a crazy person and been satisfied that at least the bad new happened in threes. And then I would have gotten over it. Because at the end of the day I don’t care really about R and her pregnancy. I can avoid her.
Yes it does bother me that everyone I seem to know in real life on this godforsaken planet is knocked up, to the point where I at least there isn’t anyone else to add to the list. Yes it does feel like they’ve all been invited to this perfect pregnancy party and I am the only one not invited. But I’ll just add R to the shelf of other retired knocked up friends.
What I do care about is being betrayed by the only person who is going through this terrible journey with me. Maybe I’m being too hard on him, maybe his emotions are allowed to screw shit up now and then. Mine certainly do. But come on. I was doing so well.
I hate that this has put a rift between us. I hate that we are in this position. I hate that we hide things from each other to prevent further pain. I hate that we are in pain.
I hate how infertility shakes you to your very core. How it pulls the rug out from under you when you least expect it. Unrelenting. Unforgiving. I hate feeling like this. Recklessness. I am so sick of it. I was doing so well. So much for that.