Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Cheese Still Alone

I got an email about the wedding (yes the same wedding) from another friend.  It was a heads up that she's pregnant also.  I already knew that, I guess, remember I am infertile, not stupid.  This means she got pregnant a month or two after her wedding.  I mean, we're in our early-mid-ish thirties, what did I expect?

And that colleague I saw at the IVF clinic way back in December 2014 when I bravely tucked my tail and hid in the bathroom.  His Facebook is covered with his new baby.  That means while I was in beta hell with my chemical pregnancy, they were getting joyous Christmas news about what would be their son in the next ultrasound room.  FML.  This works for everyone but me.

I haven't heard anyone even tell me about a miscarriage.  No one has sent over their friend going through IVF.  Nope.  Everyone gets pregnant on the second try and it's all sunshine and rainbows.  For everyone but me.  For fuck sake, the stats say miscarriages and even advanced REs and stuff are fairly common, but I don't feel that now.  I don't know anyone in real life going through anything close to what I am.

Everyone is going to be fucking pregnant at this wedding.  This wedding I have flown to two different cities for and clearly don't belong at because of my failure to execute the basic mission everyone seems to be going for.  Even the guys at this wedding, four, maybe more will have pregnant wives.  Does anyone talk about anything but their goddamn babies?  And I will again be the cheese standing alone.  Good thing this wedding is in a recreational marijuana state.

I don't have a good way to explain this feeling.  I would not wish it on anyone.  Physically, the closest analogue I have is grief, which just overwhelms your whole body with physically sobbing and chest pain and shows you no way out.  It physically takes you to the ground.  That has gotten worse as the world has closed in on me.  But this is now more overriding.  It has infiltrated every aspect of my life.  I live as a failure, and as a sad, pathetic cautionary tail.  The truth is, I might never get what I want.  And I do not know how it is possible for me to continue the rest of my life feeling like this.

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