When you deal with infertility, every conversation has the potential to be difficult. You don't think about the ways that it affects you globally. Or maybe that's just me. It affected me in everything. When friends announced their easy-to-attain pregnancies, it stung. When they assumed we weren't trying because it had been so long, it hurt. When I hopped on Facebook and saw someone's happy family, it was tough. When family members made new family members, I wasn't the excited cousin, aunt, sister, whatever. It was raw.
And that should have gone away now that we're on our way, right?
So why, then, when I found out that a friend-of-a-friend was pregnant after a few months of marriage, did I get that familiar and dreaded stomach drop? It wasn't as bad, and it went away quickly, but the jealously is still there. I'm still carrying the burden of a process that, for the time being, is on hold. It's not the center of my universe. We've moved on to better things. We don't have to focus on that anymore. To be honest, we never did.
But I guess the jealously of knowing that this will never happen by accident isn't ready to go away. And even though I go to sleep every night and wish our daughter a sweet sleep from just beneath my belly button, the grieving process isn't over yet. I'm not grieving a lost person. I guess I'm grieving time. I'm grieving stress. I unwinding from trauma.
So, we still get a twinge. It's getting better. It's going away. It happens less. I feel less attacked and overwhelmed. It's all getting better. But it still sucks sometimes. I know how grief and trauma work within the brain, and how it's not a linear process. I guess it just makes more sense when I'm talking about everyone else than to think that I could be subject to the same process.
I'm not exempt. I never was.
As always, it's hip to be square [and getting better!], kids.