I’ve talked about this before, about how I feel about our “luck” with getting pregnant after so many years of feeling definitely “unlucky”. And throughout this pregnancy so far, I’ve struggled with feeling as if all those months waiting, all those negative pregnancy tests, all those Clomid pills were maybe figments of my imagination. Or that maybe in the light of our getting pregnant this time so easily has rendered those experiences as nill. They don’t count. I may have thought I was infertile, but guess not!
I hate to think of people who are struggling right now, trying so hard to get pregnant, visiting this blog and feeling worse about their situation. I do talk about my pregnancy, my doctor visits and ultrasound pictures, and I do understand how hard those things are when you feel so left out of the Fertile Circle. But it’s not my intention to make anyone feel this way. Still, there’s no way to avoid it, really.
It does seem as if everyone and their dog is pregnant right now. It’s not just bloggers either (though there are so many of us at this point I can hardly keep track). I know several people in my personal life who are also pregnant. And then there are the celebrities. Everywhere you go you hear about Halle Berry or Christina Aquilera or Jennifer Lopez. Oh, and apparently Nicole Kidman is pregnant too. Of course! Baby bellies are everywhere!
Plainly put, it’s a BAD time to be infertile. It’s a bad time to be sensitive to other’s pregnancies. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I wish that everyone who wanted to get pregnant would just get pregnant. I wish it worked that way. I don’t know why it doesn’t. I don’t know why or how I got pregnant so easily this last July. It defies all my logic. For so many years, I clung to the idea that if I wanted to get pregnant on my own that I could. I just had to keep trying. And you know? I lost a lot of years that way. Not just years where I wasn’t pregnant or years between Harry and a sibling. But years that I could have better spent with Harry and just enjoyed our moments together. That is why now, after I have a baby in my arms, I find myself looking at Harry in bewilderment. One day he was three and now he’s EIGHT. Those are years I’m never getting back. So yeah, I learned in time that it was best to embrace my infertile status and work towards the goal of getting this baby, come hell or high water.
And then, after all that, I got pregnant on my own and BY SURPRISE. I can’t even convey to you how surprising this was to me. It still IS to me. Just when I was accepting my status as a defunct conceiver, I get pregnant just like your average ordinary Fertile Myrtle. I have become that person that the Infertile Myrtle is most wary and resentful of: the woman who gets pregnant just like that and already has two lovely children at home. GAH.
All I can do is be grateful. Every. Single. Day. And I am. My perfect family finally seems attainable. It’s not too much to ask that now that I have mine, that you all have yours too, is it?
