How do you know when its time for you to move?
Everyone in your local sub/infertility group is either pregnant or has adopted.
Yup, it was time for us to get a move on.
I say that (partially) in jest because of course, we didn’t actually decide to move because all of our infertile and sub-fertile friends had finally adopted and/or conceived without miscarriage. A while back I wrote that we had a little group going of couples who hadn’t been able to conceive, led by the priest who witnessed our marriage. It was awesome to meet with these couples, all who had been trying far longer than us (8, 6, and 3 years). Not even necessarily from the things they said, but they were able to give me comfort that “it was going to be alright” and that I was not alone.
The last time we met in May, we went mainly to say goodbye and to meet the new baby our friends had just adopted. We were thrilled to meet the little guy, catch up with the parents, and say goodbye to the rest of the group. Right before we left, that’s when I heard that the third couple was pregnant. After 3 surgeries, 2 miscarriages, and almost 6 years of trying, they had finally made it to the second trimester.
My first thought was, Miracles are being worked in this group! A year ago no one was pregnant, now there has been a birth, an adoption in record time (3 months) and what looks like a healthy one on the way! God is listening to us!
My second thought was, I am alone. And unfortunately, that thought hit while I was still talking to the new parents.
I was so happy and surprised for our friends. They had tried for so long and had all but given up the summer before (and they conceived by making diet changes, no drugs, etc.) Her joy was contagious. I knew her struggle and I shared in her joy. But that could not stop my tears. I just kept smiling. I knew they were tears of joy, but I also knew that they were tears of something that’s a lot harder to put my finger on. So did she. She tried to calm me as I desperately tried to hide my tears that would not stop for the life of me (which I blame partially on the fact that I was already emotional from saying goodbye). Luckily, it was literally the last exchange that happened before we left so it wasn’t too terrible that I was teary-eyed. We made a quick escape.
As we drove off to our next good-bye dinner that night, I kept thinking how I was glad to be moving on, at least in some way. To stay there while the rest of our group had reunions with children, man. I mean, of course its fitting I’m the last one, I’m years behind these women in terms of trying. But still. I kept thanking God that he hadn’t left anyone behind that may have needed my support in person.
Which leads me to my next proposal. While I’m glad no one needs my support in Texas, I sure as heck would love a support group here in California, specifically southern California. I know there seems to be a large contingent of people on the east coast, but is there anyone out here who would like to meet up?
I guess I have a love/hate relationship with the thought of making friends solely based on our shared inability to procreate, especially considering that unlike motherhood, its a label that often changes as time goes on. However, the relationships that I’ve made on the blog-world and carried into more personal relationships and the support I felt from that group were extremely important for my socialization and remembering my humanity, in that my problems aren’t unique to me alone (just a small percentage of people…). And now, all of those people are with child. And I miss them. I understand there’s a danger that more people may go on to leave me as well, but I guess its better to have be-friended a sub-fertile than never to have friended at all, right?
Seriously, if anyone is in Southern California, let’s even make it “the west”, and either is looking for a support group or knows of one already, please let a gal know.
As always, appreciating your prayers.