The infertile in the corner

Last night I went to my first major social outing since our loss. It was a house party to celebrate a friend’s 30th birthday.

The good news is I didn’t get absolutely intoxicated. I had a few beers (meaning the most I’ve had since the beginning of July), but in the end, I came home almost sober.

The bad news is I had to deal with a group of fertile women who had no clue that they were being insensitive.

It was one of those occasions where the crowd just doesn’t mix well. Her friends vs. his friends = awkward. Fortunately for me, I know both sides. To start, I sat in between both groups as to participate in whichever conversation I enjoyed more at the time.

Her friends don’t have children. Most are married, but one woman is single.

His friends all have children. My husband and I and the hosts themselves were the only ones from that group without kids.

Anyway, the wives of his friends started discussing their birth stories. Yes, you heard me right. They were discussing their birth stories right beside the woman who experienced her first and only pregnancy loss just over 2 weeks ago.

I tried to ignore it, but it was just too much. They talked about when they realized they need to go to the hospital, how they made it up to labour and delivery, etc.

I got up and went outside for a bit.

After that, my night was tainted. I went and sat on the other side of her friends as to avoid his friends – and their incessant baby chatter – as much as possible.

Throughout the night, a few of his friends wives asked how I was doing. I just said, “I’m ok“. One of the wives even asked when I was returning to work. See, it’s not as if they don’t know. 

While we were cleaning up at the end of the night, I told the wife of the birthday boy that I couldn’t believe they would talk about that in front of me. I understand that they don’t get it, but still. There is a thing called common sense. 

Her response was, “Oh Lindsey, you always so sensitive.”

She proceeded to go on and say that she totally supports how we are pursing treatment to have a child, but that I need to get over some things.

She doesn’t get it. I am not JUST doing fertility treatments. I am not JUST recovering from surgery. I am mourning the loss of our baby girl. She totally does not understand how profound a loss of a child is.

She told me that I will have a baby one day and I need to not let what people say get to me.

I responded by telling her that there are NO guarantees that we will have our OWN child and that maybe those people need to become more aware as to not be so insensitive themselves.

She gave me a hug and apologized for her own insensitivity, but kept reminding me to stop being so sensitive.

I fumbled for words knowing that whatever I said would probably not make a difference at this point.

I feel like I should have spoken up. I should have asked them to change the topic. I should have pointed out their insensitivity.

Instead, I did what so many in my situation have done before me.  I held my tongue. I left the room. I let myself feel ostracised. I didn’t enjoy the party.

Please dear God, give me strength and a voice to endure the many challenges I expect to face as we move forward on this journey. Please show me the way to create awareness to make this world an easier place for those of us facing infertility and miscarriage.