I has them.
I’ve been trying to just push through it, but I’m definitely in the throes of a full blown holiday season funk. It’s a big combination of things, like turning 40 and having a bit of an existential crisis, and also let’s not forget the pregnancy announcements that just won’t stop coming. Put both of those things together and the funk settles in for a long stay.
Turning 40 I could handle on its own, but the pregnancy announcements combined with it are really throwing me off. Most of these pregnancies are women I only know peripherally, so I can mostly ignore them, but a couple of them are really good friends. One of those friends is really sensitive to my situation, and I love her for that. The other doesn’t get it – and really, why should she? – and says things like, “I just felt the baby move! I love being pregnant.” That killed me. Just really killed me. Like laid me down in the street and ran over me with a steamroller killed me.
The thing is, I’m happy for these friends of mine. Happy for the ones who got pregnant after intertility and happy for the ones who just got pregnant as soon as they wanted to get pregnant. I love that I have babies to knit for all of a sudden, even if they’re not my babies. But I’m sitting here surrounded by all these holiday trappings and they all feel empty and meaningless without a child to share them with.
It’s weird, but after all these years, I still can’t really believe I’m infertile. I still think to myself, “This isn’t right. This can’t be my life. This isn’t the plan.” And sometimes the injustice of it hits me in the chest so hard I can’t breathe.
Holidays have never been hard before, other than Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. This year the turning 40 thing being thrown into it all is what did it. I’m 40. Even if I wasn’t infertile, my fertility would be washed up right about now. I don’t have a lot of time left to figure out what to do. Whatever I do, I want this to be the last Yule I feel this way. Next year, I’m going to be pregnant or in the midst of adoption or I may really just roll over and die.
We have an appointment at Columbia on January 22. That’s the first step. We’ll see what happens next.
Comments are closed on this one because I’m mostly venting and also because I don’t want anyone saying what great parents Scott and I will make or similar comments. I know people mean well and say that to help, but it’s kind of like telling a starving homeless person what a great chef they’d make if they had a house with a kitchen. Just saying.