So, we went to a party this weekend. The usual suspects were in attendance, it was a lovely evening. And I felt very, very out of place. Not that anyone’s making me feel that way, just my sixth sense. I have my antennae way up lately, since everyone I know is now aware of this pregnancy. While I’m not inclined to hide it, I am inclined to downplay it. And while I most certainly don’t feel guilty, I do feel rather sad. I recognize the sudden shifts in conversation – someone expresses their quick congratulations and moves on immediately as soon as the social niceties have been observed. If a couple is negotiating over kids (one’s ready and one’s not) or if they’re embroiled in their own personal reproductive hell, I would prefer not to be the reminder thrown up to blindside someone. And I’m a reminder – I definitely look pregnant. The husband would come over and make conversation while the wife was elsewhere (I know that routine so very well), or they would both just be otherwise occupied. Perhaps I was reading too much into it. Strange to be on the other side of things and still difficult, I’m finding. There’s about every sort of life situation present in our group, all kinds of backgrounds and ethnicities, gay, divorced, etc. And only 3 or 4 couples out of 13-14 have kids.

I remember so well. How could I not? That’s an awful lot of heartache and drama to just erase. Infertility changes who you are, your outlook on everything. Some ways good, some ways not so good. Sometimes people come out the other side beat up and bloody, sometimes they emerge victorious and grateful. But everyone has their scars. And I think there’s always a part of you that never really leaves the trenches.

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