Today was one of the days that P. and I met up with our mums and babies group. We took a leisurely walk along the seafront and then went to a little cafe for cakes and hot drinks. In the midst of conversations about baby development, spousal sex demands, and crying fits, the topic of further children arose.
Prior to P.'s birth, The Dude and I believed we wanted two children. Now, we're not so sure anything but one would suit us. This parenting gig is far more demanding and draining than we anticipated, and merely thinking about another baby is enough to make The Dude look into DIY sterilisation. You know, since conception comes so easy to us.
Therein lies today's moment of clarity. To my knowledge, all of the other women in my group conceived naturally. I've not told them about P.'s petri dish past, but I think I will tell them at some stage if the situation presents itself again. I got so caught up in the conversation about whether or not we would try for another baby, that I actually *forgot* that this body doesn't just get pregnant by the way of the penis. I joined in the conversation as if a second child would just happen if we wanted it to. What the fuck? I didn't sit there, silent and resigned like I should have. I contributed as if my second child will follow in a couple years' time just as all of theirs will if that decision is made.
I shouldn't say this on what still may pass as an infertility blog, but I don't always remember. I have forgotten on more than one occasion that I'm not like the others. In discussions with The Dude regarding PruDude Offspring Part Deux I have said that after some time of trying naturally (hahahahaha) I want to go straight to IVF. No faffing about with Clomid or IUIs - just straight to the big guns. However, stick me in a group of happy little mummies and the years of trying unsuccessfully fall out of my head.
I hate myself for it, but then I think that perhaps this is my time to feel normal. I've felt like an outsider for so long, can I be punished for wanting to be included as one of "them" for just a little while? Why shouldn't I be allowed to forget all of the infertility-related depression, cooter wandings, immense quantity of drugs, and the agonies of a number of endless 2ww periods over a cup of coffee and slice of cake?
9 comments:
Pru, if you can forget then by all means, forget. Yes, you emphatically DO deserve some normalcy in your life and I'm glad you're getting it. DO NOT feel guilty about not feeling bad all the time. That's what achieving the Holy Grail is supposed to be all about.
xo
I think that once you're a mommy, you're part of that mommy clique. It's been my experience so far that the happenstance of how pregnancy occurred has not come up. It's sort of like the whole "vaginal birth" vs. "cesarean birth". While in the thick of it, it seems really important to some of us how the baby was born. But after awhile, it becomes one of those non-thoughts and all you really talk about are milestones and sippy cups. Of course I'm speaking from my own experience which may be completely different from others.
Forget all you want. It's not something that's fun to remember.
Plus, you've got a little P who makes it very pleasant to forget.
You're absolutly entitled to belong to "that group," those women who can just *become* pregnant whenever they want. I'm with you, I find myself talking, and even thinking, that I can just get pregnant. Hah. I think as long as you don't go as far as to actually *belieiving* that is how it'll happen for you, it's fine to indulge in a fantasy of normalicy. Oh well.
Of course you are allowed to forget. You have had a hard fucking time of it, and a little coffee and oblivion is good for everyone once in a while.
I think "embracing the normalcy" is totally acceptable, especially in the situation you described. We IF-ers are so used to being the "other" that when we're around fertiles, it feels suddenly wrong not to divulge details of how we arrived at motherhood's door. We tried for years. We struggled. We forked over thousands. And it's important not to forget these things, but as you said, there's nothing wrong with feeling like "one of them" now.
PS: Thanks for visiting my blog the other day. And your daughter? She's beautiful.
I can definitely understand your desire to relish in normalcy, yet still feel guilty about it. For me, it feels like some sort of betrayal to my past and to the IF friends I've made along the way. But, if there's one thing I've learned through all this, it's that IF women are some of the most understanding and compassionate women out there. And if there's anyone who would understand your need for normalcy, it would be us.
Like all the others, I don't think there's anything wrong with forgetting. I think you're entitled. Should we all sit around feeling different from all the others for the rest of our lives? Should we spend our lives wallowing instead of living after blessings like Little Miss P? I don't think so.
Forget all you want, P. I can't wait to do the same.
Forget the heartache by all means, as long as you don't forget this telling anyone to "just relax" is a no-no.
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