I've been traveling since New Year's. I've been home all of three or four nights out of 13. Have laptop, will travel. I've been traveling some for work, and some to just get away. To sleep on the couch of an old friend. To be a in a hip, young neighborhood. To go to a wine tasting with single intellectual people. To walk the cold streets of cities that aren't my own. To drink a bespoke cocktail at 3PM. To feel the love of old friends. To feel anything.
Last night was dinner with an eleven month old baby and her exhausted parents. Parents who already suffered my diva behavior when they announced their OMG pregnancy. I was blank because I couldn't feel anything, and so I had to out myself with my then-recent ectopic nightmare. Why couldn't I just be normal and say "Good for you!" "I'm so excited!" I think now I would be able to fake it somewhat better, but that was one of the first bitter unfairnesses I had to face.
All night cooing over the baby, there was a silent elephant around us. Granted there were acquaintances there who didn't know about the rest that happened in the last year plus. Failed IVF. God, as if I could get any more pathetic. What are you supposed to say to someone that pathetic anyway? Such a pity.
We talked about the baby all night. What else do people talk about? And then the parents started whining about how to time #2 and I shut down. I was there, but I was somewhere else. I think they picked up on this and tried to change the subject. For sad, barren me. And they talked about having to fire their flaky nanny instead. Life is so hard.
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