As The Dude and I are reaching the point whereby we are going to slowly start disseminating the news of Enid, I've been thinking about what to divulge and what to keep to ourselves.
Our parents know of both the IVF and the pregnancy, so no issues of disclosure there. It has recently come to my attention that though my in-laws can understand the statement, "Our fertility treatment is not something we want shared with anyone else unless we specify", my Mom has seemingly found my wish too vague. She has asked me a couple of times recently when she will be allowed to tell others of Enid, and when I give her an approximate stage of the pregnancy, I have specified that I do not want anyone to know the situation that brought this about. Both times she has feigned ignorance and said, "Oh, Aunt X already knows" or "Well...the church is my support, and I've asked many people to pray for you because of your troubles". Suddenly, what we thought was within the knowledge of a few select individuals has suddenly spread to a crazy relative rattling from copious doses of percocet and vicodin and a host of people who believe intelligent design is the new black. It's just what we always wanted.
Despite feeling angry at my lack of control of this situation, I've come to the conclusion that I'm more comfortable with the idea of mentioning my "troubles" (as my Mom would say) now that we may have been successful, than I ever was before. I have mentioned previously that next to no one was told of us wading through the mire of ART, and I very rarely felt the inclination to tell anyone about it. I wasn't ashamed, but rather I didn't want to cope with either pity, or others' righteous indignation. I didn't want people to constantly bombard me with questions as to how it was going, or put them in the situation that they would have to attempt to comfort me when it failed.
Now, I feel as if sharing it will set me apart from them. I want them to know that it didn't come easy, and that I'm still not "normal". It's a strange place to be, considering part of the reason I chose not to share previously was because I wanted to be perceived as normal for once. I didn't want to place myself outside the concept of all women as fertile, maternal beings. For as often as I felt like an outsider by keeping silent, it was my one opportunity to control the situation and at least project that I was just like them.
Don't worry, I won't contradict my personality and start telling everyone that I'm a hard ass because I did one round of IVF. I'm thinking small - just telling close friends, and perhaps I'll have a sit-down with the canary and tell him that Mommy and Daddy have had some difficulties, but that they still love him regardless.
Given my role of the carrier of Enid (Thalia--to answer your question in my last post, I have decided Enid is the one that stuck around because Bertrand was always slow and no fetus of mine is going to be the dumb one), I have recently been attempting to bond with children. Rather than relying on telepathy to communicate that I would like to kick them, I'm trying to be friendly. I must be trying hard, because I'm even making an effort to talk to my devil spawn niece, Damiana. That's a feminine take on the 666 theme people, catch up. Anyway, I'm even smiling at the little bugger now when I see her and damn it if my face doesn't hurt like hell.
All my good deeds may have been negated when I went for my first antenatal appointment last week though, as I glared at a little snot-nosed creature and he ran away. Quickly. I may have one of the things growing inside me, but that's my little potential snot-nosed creature, and by no means am I going to start liking all of them now. Months on end of hormone-altering medication? Fine. Regular snatch inspections? Bring 'em on. Embryo retrieval and transfer? Please. Start to like children because they're God's precious creatures? Fuck that.
13 comments:
Ah yes, other peoples children. Just because you want one of your own doesn't mean you have to like everybody elses.
Reminds me of when I was in the maternity clothing store. This woman was letting her brats run wild and they tried running into my dressing room while I was modeling for the Mr. When I told them not to go in there, they stopped dead in their tracks and just stared at me. I then went into the dressing room and stuck my tongue out at them before I shut the door.
I'm so mean.
Oh yeah, I still reserve the right to be annoyed by other people's children. No love for brattiness, here.
How exciting, though, that you're getting close to the telling stage. That's quite a milestone.
I can't really stand other people's kids. I think they bother me even more now that I realize that it is actually possible to supervise your bratty kids in a store/doctors office/on a playdate.
And H. and I have apparently been monopolizing his sister's prayer circle for quite some time. Grrrrrreat.
Oh, man, do I hear you on the folks who don't know how to keep their mouths shut.
When my mother-in-law started passing along "tips" from her massage therapist about Chinese teas I should be drinking to help me with my "problem," I stopped telling her jack. And that's pretty much how it stayed for four years... until we were about 15 weeks along in this current pregnancy.
God bless ye, Mrs Prufrock. I am utterly impressed at your ability to remain unthwarted in being uncharmed by other people's kids. They are pretty gross and annoying, mostly.
I hear you on the sharing/ART stuff. People know that We've Struggled, b/c, um, we were pretty open about wanting kids, and b/c of our ages, it was obvious we'd TTC right away--and we were open about that. And, 19 months later, no baby. So it's kind of assumed. Still, I don't want pity/questions/suggestions/"just relax"/"Geena Davis had a baby at 45" (or whatever). After my last m/c, I felt like hiding in a cave for a long time. Mind you I never went around yelling I'm pregnant--more just that I didn't lie when asked. Now, I'm lying. I just can't stand the lack of privacy, feeling so revealed. When/if we make it to That Time, it'll be interesting. We haven't even told our parents. My mom was completely incapable of respecting my wishes to not discuss pg #3 in its earlier stages--she said it was HARD for her not to ask questions. Well, um, it's kinda hard to have miscarriage after miscarriage with no answers and no baby. So, yes, it can be hard for you, but deal with it. Or I won't tell you next time. She got whiny and fussy, so this time I'm not telling her.
You have been outed to the bible bouncers! My folks are born again and have been praying for us for months... don't have the heart to tell them we are growing the anti-christ yet. *evil grin*
Your own special snot nosed babe will be enough to love, and you will need all your energy for Enid, screw the rest of them.
That's a bit of a hard one. I have been very open all along about my situation. I've yet to meet somebody who lectured me about the wrongs of ART. I suppose that makes me sheltered in the Infertility world. My attitude is, I don't care- If you don't like what I've done, don't talk to me.It is difficult when it seems the world knows all about you and you don't want them too but seeing as they know now you'll have to adopt your best fuck you attitude if somebody says something you don' like. You'll probably find that most people are happy for you.
As for other peoples kids. Yuck!
I didn't want to tell anyone - I didn't see why I should. I don't want to deal with questions about my 'bits' - noone else has to, why should I?
Unfortunately my partner has told his parents and all his workmates. So I can forsee an awkward moment in the future when our parents are talking....
His parents however are quite civilised. Mine never cease with the annoying questions. Last night my Dad suggested that my steopmother could come to the birth - um hello?
My mother will find out that I'm well, you know, when the child enters the first grade. The woman couldn't keep a secret to save her life.
Enid, of course, will be so charming that everyone will drop whatever they are doing to hug him or her. EVERYONE.
I hate work.
I sympathise. The night, at 11wks, that we announced to my father & stepmother that I was pregnant, it was great for 5 minutes. Then my Dad said 'Oh the 'Smiths' will be so pleased to hear this. After all you've been through with the multiple IVFs, frozen embryo transfers, etc etc they'll be overjoyed for you.'
Now, for background: the Smiths were once close family friends, whom my father sees perhaps once a year - if that. When I was a little girl 4-12 years old, I played a lot with their two boys. We met up a few times during my teens, and I haven't seen any of them for over 20 years.
As an aside, my father should know better. He is a retired HR director who prides himself (at times with grating pomposity) on his discretion and confessional-like ability not to gossip.
I sat there open mouthed as the realisation dawned that he has been solicitously recounting INTIMATE details of all the effing procedures that I have been through in the past five years and that took me to the edge of despair and back to a bunch of relative strangers, when I have chosen not to tell dear friends whom I see every week. And why should the Smiths not tell other people - hell, if my own father is talking about it, it must be common knowledge, right?
Even now, 20 weeks later, I am still dumbstruck at this. So, I try not to dwell on it and just move on. And I'm sure that finally being up the duff helps - god only knows how I'd have felt had I known when we were still trying.
And, no, I can't stand other people's badly behaved children either, and no, I don't particularly want to cuddle their babies. Never have.
Love your blog.
Alchemilla
xxx
My mum did the same, she blabbed to my cousins, all 8 of them and their partners and my aunts and uncles. I was annoyed as I feel too tired too explain the sheer hell we have been through. I particularly find it annoying when people tell you they know so and so who IVF worked for etc.
My mum has blabbed big time, too. Whereas my dad just doesn't want to know. I've given up on letting either upset me! My in-laws on the other hand, are models of discretion and support. Oh well. At least I married well.
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