Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?
Ugh. The title of this is such a cliche, but I kind of couldn't help it. It's a question I find myself asking all the time.
BTW, here I go judging myself again. I pretty much hate everything I'm about to write. It annoys me. I annoy myself so much of the time right now. (I mean, and always, but I think that's probably true for a good number of us out there; hence the blog title. I'm trying to make myself feel better by hoping that we're all really the same brand of crazy.)
While going through this emotionally fragile period of my life over the last two years, other lives have gone on. Other babies have been born and celebrated milestones. I've been invited to Christenings, baptisms, birthday parties, baby showers. Every. Single. Event. Is Painful. To Attend.
I hate that. I hate it so much. These events are joyful, and I should therefore be filled with joy. If my friends are happy, I should be happy for them. Why can I do nothing but wallow in self pity?! What is wrong with me?!
The double edged sword is ever present. Every event that I'm invited to... I feel torn in so many directions. Going to these events is heartbreaking. It puts a lot of mental and emotional stress on me. Being there, seeing everyone else celebrate something that I am trying so hard to be a part of myself makes me feel broken. I feel left out of a loop that I'm working hard to get into. It's like being left out of the popular group in middle school despite going out and buying the right clothes and listening to the right music and talking the right lingo, just because you didn't have some X factor. I am trying to break into this crowd. I am trying to relate to mommy woes, pregnancy pains, how to raise the kids, blah blah blah.
I'm just failing at it. Despite my best efforts and attempts, it is so far out of my control.
(This goes against the American Dream, dammit! Aren't you supposed to get what you work hard for? Well, we're working hard to make a baby, and we live in America; my husband even moved here from another country. So, come on, Dream! Let's get fulfilled! We won't even go into how part of that dream is 2.5 kids and we're not doing so hot at having even one.)
I want to be at these events to support my friends. It's important to be there for the people you care about. I want them to know that I do care about them and their budding families.
If it was just them and their progeny, that would make these events a lot easier. However, they're filled with other close friends and relatives, cooing and fussing over the wonderful baby and asking loudly about it and giving the new parents advice and nothing is subtle and everyone is calling out about what they know. (And I know nothing and I have no opportunities to know anything.)
Sometimes they even shoot me a look that seems to ask, "How long have you been married again? (The answer for us is seven years, which is longer than all but one or two of my friends, and longer than some married and spawning couples have been together, let alone joined in holy matrimony.) And why don't you have one of these yet?" Knife to the heart.
(Incidentally, at a non-baby related event recently, my friend's dad put the joking pressure on us about having a baby. "When are you going to have one of these?" he laughed while showing my mom pictures of his granddaughter. He was mortified when I told him that we were going for our first fertility consultation the next day. Please add to the list of things to never say to people, "When are you going to have a baby?" Because some people are never going to, they don't want to, and that's okay, and society should not make them think they're wrong. There's plenty of room in this world for couples who don't want kids. And then some of them are trying, spending time and money and invasive procedure tolerance on attempting, and it isn't happening. So don't ask.)
As much as I want to be there for my friends' events, I also want to maintain my sanity. At an event I attended recently, I felt like I spent more time locked away in a back room curled up in a ball on a couch running through all of the horrible baby-related thoughts my head has developed through this than at the party part. The internal dialogue went something like, I want a baby, my body is broken, I can't have a baby and I don't know why, I shouldn't have stayed on birth control for so long, I shouldn't go through all of this god-forsaken science to do something that comes naturally to so many, I should not play God and make a child, I am not fit to be a mother, I have no idea how to even raise a baby, some higher power sees me as unfit to have a child, why are there so many children born to parents who can't take care of them and not me, why is this so easy for some people and I can't do it, why does this hurt so much, am I making a spectacle of myself, is everyone wondering where I am, am I taking away attention from the people whose party this really is, why am I such an attention whore, why am I not out there laughing and smiling, if I go out there now is everyone going to stare at me... That is honest-to-god what my head is like at a babevent. (Does that work as a word? I'm trying to vary my vocabulary here.)
At what point does my own sanity come before that of my friends'? Who will be offended if I turn down an event because of this? I can make up some other reason, and some people won't even know that it's something we're going through. And then I'll feel bad, and I'll cycle back to, But they're my friends, I shouldn't lie to them, I should support them.
Let's not forget that at so many of the babevents, there isn't just one baby to fuss over; there are many. In some cases, they belong to complete strangers. (If you've been to a baby-factory baptism, you'll know what I'm talking about. Some places will baptize something like 30 babies in one ceremony. 30 reminders that it's not my turn.) At others, all of my friends bring all of their babies, and everyone commiserates and complains and bonds.
And I sit in another room on a couch crying. Even if I didn't, even if I had emotional fortitude (I have none, I am a messy, crazy coward, or at least that's how I feel), I would have nothing to contribute to that conversation. I can't talk with them about my crying baby waking me up at all hours of the night or how exhausted I am or what my baby is eating this week or what store has diapers on sale or whatever else there is. I have no experience.
I know my emotions are almost completely distorted, distanced from reality at times. At one babevent, I was struggling, but I thought I was putting on a decent face for maybe 48% of it. Then, as I was doing my best to hold my being together, someone excitedly told me about another friend who was expecting a baby soon! Yay! These two people would have something in common!
When you're already hanging on by a thread and trying to make that thread look like it's at least a whole rope and that kind of bombshell hits... I literally felt time slowing down as this news was delivered. You know on TV when someone is saying something that another character doesn't want to hear, and the one doing the talking has his/her mouth slow down, and their voice goes all deep and echoey? That happened in front of my face.
The string severed, and I lost it. Not in an I'm-gonna-tear-this-place-apart kind of way, but in an I'm-functioning-just-above-catatonic kind of way. I couldn't eat. I couldn't look at anyone. My heart was smashed. I felt like everyone was staring at me, talking about me, internally criticizing me for being a drama queen and taking the attention off of the baby and the happy couple and not being happy for them.
I know none of this happened. I know that molasses wasn't poured over the clocks, that most people didn't even hear what my friend had said to me or see how I had reacted. Some people did, and they were comforting. But that doesn't change how I felt and perceived it, particularly at the time.
Perception is 9/10 of reality. Not that it should be, but when things are occurring, it is.
Another thing: I've hated the trend of trigger warnings for so many reasons. They don't help people relate to real world situations, they don't teach emotional control. (Remember, my opinion. You feel differently? That's fine. You're entitled to yours; I'm entitled to mine. Wow. That sounds defensive. Anywhoo.)
But for the first time in my clearly very privileged life that has had few problems, I know what it's like to feel triggered. Pregnant people, proximity to babies and young children, innocuous conversations about pregnancies - these can all affect me negatively. I can be swimming along, pleased as punch, overhear someone I don't know talking about someone I've never heard of being pregnant, and I'll be inconsolable. Then I might be at someone's house with their small child, maybe there's just five of us, and I'm fine.
Logic? No. None of that.
Another illogical recent anecdote... Hubby and I were recently at a friend's house for a pumpkin carving. There were a lot of women who are older than me there (pretty sure, now that I think about it, that I was the youngest person there), including the host's pregnant daughter. Now, I know that her daughter has 4 years on me, and she tried to get pregnant for four years, and it was difficult for her, and she went through an emotional roller coaster, but it's still hard for me to see her and her beautifully swollen belly.
As we were carving, she talked loudly about what being pregnant is like, what her body is doing, how she and her husband are redecorating a nursery. (Wow, I'm using a lot of commas in lists in this entry. Look at me! Now I'm criticizing my grammar and writing style as well as my personality. I really do feel insane sometimes.) Hubby and I were both feeling the hurt, but obviously this woman is allowed to be excited and talk about it. Her mother did pull her aside and ask her to tone down the conversation a little, which made me feel awful. This is her house, it's something she's wanted for a long time, and she should be allowed to talk about it.
It just sucks that it's painful for us to hear about.
It sucked more when all of the other woman, all of whom have multiple children, turned into (and I hate to say this, and I'm sorry to you if you were there), stereotypical females and talked excitedly and animatedly about their children. What it was like to be pregnant. How awful/wonderful babies are.
Non stop. The only thing anyone around the table was talking about. Crazily, my husband was the one who looked into my eyes and said, "We need to go."
Because guess what, kiddos? Turns out I'm not the only one this infertility problem is a problem for. My husband is also feeling inundated by the talk of babies that's circulating around this fine world of ours. Aw, isn't he sweet? At least we're both in this together. (Sings that annoying song from High School Musical)
So we left. It was abrupt; people around the table wondered why it was we were going. We told them I wasn't feeling well, which wasn't entirely a lie. My sinuses were all congested. But really, these were people with whom I have openly discussed what's going on . The fact that they didn't think about it in advance is fine; I don't fault them on that. But the fact that only one or two of them realized what was up was a little painful.
Again, I hate all of this. I probably sound self centered and self important; if I don't, I feel like I do. Extra pain on top of the pain of infertility. A circle of awfulness. Maybe I'm creating it myself; maybe some people think I'm as selfish as I feel I am.
So when do you stay in a situation like this for the sake of your friends' happiness vs. when do you leave for the sake of your own sanity?
I'm not looking for an answer. I don't think there is a definitive one.
BTW, here I go judging myself again. I pretty much hate everything I'm about to write. It annoys me. I annoy myself so much of the time right now. (I mean, and always, but I think that's probably true for a good number of us out there; hence the blog title. I'm trying to make myself feel better by hoping that we're all really the same brand of crazy.)
While going through this emotionally fragile period of my life over the last two years, other lives have gone on. Other babies have been born and celebrated milestones. I've been invited to Christenings, baptisms, birthday parties, baby showers. Every. Single. Event. Is Painful. To Attend.
I hate that. I hate it so much. These events are joyful, and I should therefore be filled with joy. If my friends are happy, I should be happy for them. Why can I do nothing but wallow in self pity?! What is wrong with me?!
The double edged sword is ever present. Every event that I'm invited to... I feel torn in so many directions. Going to these events is heartbreaking. It puts a lot of mental and emotional stress on me. Being there, seeing everyone else celebrate something that I am trying so hard to be a part of myself makes me feel broken. I feel left out of a loop that I'm working hard to get into. It's like being left out of the popular group in middle school despite going out and buying the right clothes and listening to the right music and talking the right lingo, just because you didn't have some X factor. I am trying to break into this crowd. I am trying to relate to mommy woes, pregnancy pains, how to raise the kids, blah blah blah.
I'm just failing at it. Despite my best efforts and attempts, it is so far out of my control.
(This goes against the American Dream, dammit! Aren't you supposed to get what you work hard for? Well, we're working hard to make a baby, and we live in America; my husband even moved here from another country. So, come on, Dream! Let's get fulfilled! We won't even go into how part of that dream is 2.5 kids and we're not doing so hot at having even one.)
I want to be at these events to support my friends. It's important to be there for the people you care about. I want them to know that I do care about them and their budding families.
If it was just them and their progeny, that would make these events a lot easier. However, they're filled with other close friends and relatives, cooing and fussing over the wonderful baby and asking loudly about it and giving the new parents advice and nothing is subtle and everyone is calling out about what they know. (And I know nothing and I have no opportunities to know anything.)
Sometimes they even shoot me a look that seems to ask, "How long have you been married again? (The answer for us is seven years, which is longer than all but one or two of my friends, and longer than some married and spawning couples have been together, let alone joined in holy matrimony.) And why don't you have one of these yet?" Knife to the heart.
(Incidentally, at a non-baby related event recently, my friend's dad put the joking pressure on us about having a baby. "When are you going to have one of these?" he laughed while showing my mom pictures of his granddaughter. He was mortified when I told him that we were going for our first fertility consultation the next day. Please add to the list of things to never say to people, "When are you going to have a baby?" Because some people are never going to, they don't want to, and that's okay, and society should not make them think they're wrong. There's plenty of room in this world for couples who don't want kids. And then some of them are trying, spending time and money and invasive procedure tolerance on attempting, and it isn't happening. So don't ask.)
As much as I want to be there for my friends' events, I also want to maintain my sanity. At an event I attended recently, I felt like I spent more time locked away in a back room curled up in a ball on a couch running through all of the horrible baby-related thoughts my head has developed through this than at the party part. The internal dialogue went something like, I want a baby, my body is broken, I can't have a baby and I don't know why, I shouldn't have stayed on birth control for so long, I shouldn't go through all of this god-forsaken science to do something that comes naturally to so many, I should not play God and make a child, I am not fit to be a mother, I have no idea how to even raise a baby, some higher power sees me as unfit to have a child, why are there so many children born to parents who can't take care of them and not me, why is this so easy for some people and I can't do it, why does this hurt so much, am I making a spectacle of myself, is everyone wondering where I am, am I taking away attention from the people whose party this really is, why am I such an attention whore, why am I not out there laughing and smiling, if I go out there now is everyone going to stare at me... That is honest-to-god what my head is like at a babevent. (Does that work as a word? I'm trying to vary my vocabulary here.)
At what point does my own sanity come before that of my friends'? Who will be offended if I turn down an event because of this? I can make up some other reason, and some people won't even know that it's something we're going through. And then I'll feel bad, and I'll cycle back to, But they're my friends, I shouldn't lie to them, I should support them.
Let's not forget that at so many of the babevents, there isn't just one baby to fuss over; there are many. In some cases, they belong to complete strangers. (If you've been to a baby-factory baptism, you'll know what I'm talking about. Some places will baptize something like 30 babies in one ceremony. 30 reminders that it's not my turn.) At others, all of my friends bring all of their babies, and everyone commiserates and complains and bonds.
And I sit in another room on a couch crying. Even if I didn't, even if I had emotional fortitude (I have none, I am a messy, crazy coward, or at least that's how I feel), I would have nothing to contribute to that conversation. I can't talk with them about my crying baby waking me up at all hours of the night or how exhausted I am or what my baby is eating this week or what store has diapers on sale or whatever else there is. I have no experience.
I know my emotions are almost completely distorted, distanced from reality at times. At one babevent, I was struggling, but I thought I was putting on a decent face for maybe 48% of it. Then, as I was doing my best to hold my being together, someone excitedly told me about another friend who was expecting a baby soon! Yay! These two people would have something in common!
When you're already hanging on by a thread and trying to make that thread look like it's at least a whole rope and that kind of bombshell hits... I literally felt time slowing down as this news was delivered. You know on TV when someone is saying something that another character doesn't want to hear, and the one doing the talking has his/her mouth slow down, and their voice goes all deep and echoey? That happened in front of my face.
The string severed, and I lost it. Not in an I'm-gonna-tear-this-place-apart kind of way, but in an I'm-functioning-just-above-catatonic kind of way. I couldn't eat. I couldn't look at anyone. My heart was smashed. I felt like everyone was staring at me, talking about me, internally criticizing me for being a drama queen and taking the attention off of the baby and the happy couple and not being happy for them.
I know none of this happened. I know that molasses wasn't poured over the clocks, that most people didn't even hear what my friend had said to me or see how I had reacted. Some people did, and they were comforting. But that doesn't change how I felt and perceived it, particularly at the time.
Perception is 9/10 of reality. Not that it should be, but when things are occurring, it is.
Another thing: I've hated the trend of trigger warnings for so many reasons. They don't help people relate to real world situations, they don't teach emotional control. (Remember, my opinion. You feel differently? That's fine. You're entitled to yours; I'm entitled to mine. Wow. That sounds defensive. Anywhoo.)
But for the first time in my clearly very privileged life that has had few problems, I know what it's like to feel triggered. Pregnant people, proximity to babies and young children, innocuous conversations about pregnancies - these can all affect me negatively. I can be swimming along, pleased as punch, overhear someone I don't know talking about someone I've never heard of being pregnant, and I'll be inconsolable. Then I might be at someone's house with their small child, maybe there's just five of us, and I'm fine.
Logic? No. None of that.
Another illogical recent anecdote... Hubby and I were recently at a friend's house for a pumpkin carving. There were a lot of women who are older than me there (pretty sure, now that I think about it, that I was the youngest person there), including the host's pregnant daughter. Now, I know that her daughter has 4 years on me, and she tried to get pregnant for four years, and it was difficult for her, and she went through an emotional roller coaster, but it's still hard for me to see her and her beautifully swollen belly.
As we were carving, she talked loudly about what being pregnant is like, what her body is doing, how she and her husband are redecorating a nursery. (Wow, I'm using a lot of commas in lists in this entry. Look at me! Now I'm criticizing my grammar and writing style as well as my personality. I really do feel insane sometimes.) Hubby and I were both feeling the hurt, but obviously this woman is allowed to be excited and talk about it. Her mother did pull her aside and ask her to tone down the conversation a little, which made me feel awful. This is her house, it's something she's wanted for a long time, and she should be allowed to talk about it.
It just sucks that it's painful for us to hear about.
It sucked more when all of the other woman, all of whom have multiple children, turned into (and I hate to say this, and I'm sorry to you if you were there), stereotypical females and talked excitedly and animatedly about their children. What it was like to be pregnant. How awful/wonderful babies are.
Non stop. The only thing anyone around the table was talking about. Crazily, my husband was the one who looked into my eyes and said, "We need to go."
Because guess what, kiddos? Turns out I'm not the only one this infertility problem is a problem for. My husband is also feeling inundated by the talk of babies that's circulating around this fine world of ours. Aw, isn't he sweet? At least we're both in this together. (Sings that annoying song from High School Musical)
So we left. It was abrupt; people around the table wondered why it was we were going. We told them I wasn't feeling well, which wasn't entirely a lie. My sinuses were all congested. But really, these were people with whom I have openly discussed what's going on . The fact that they didn't think about it in advance is fine; I don't fault them on that. But the fact that only one or two of them realized what was up was a little painful.
Again, I hate all of this. I probably sound self centered and self important; if I don't, I feel like I do. Extra pain on top of the pain of infertility. A circle of awfulness. Maybe I'm creating it myself; maybe some people think I'm as selfish as I feel I am.
So when do you stay in a situation like this for the sake of your friends' happiness vs. when do you leave for the sake of your own sanity?
I'm not looking for an answer. I don't think there is a definitive one.
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