While 99% of my being is happy when a new baby arrives in the world 1% is dreading the baby chat.
I'm sure it can be quite depressing when you haven't got any children of your own, but when you are an infertile woman, as I am (have I mentioned that before?), it can be heartbreaking.
I will never understand what you are going through, I can make the right noises but my knowledge comes from watching TV shows and films or from reading books. I will never have first hand experience of growing a human, giving birth or breast feeding.
I have accepted this fact, I am working on building a family of my very own.
I love the fact that you have experienced this and will ooh and aah with the best of then but I cannot empathise.
I understand
I commiserate
To be honest I don't know.
Should I have to? Is it part of being a good friend to hear everybody's birth/war story? Hear about cracked nipples? Endless nights feeding at two in the morning?
Yes it is, and I wear my good friend badge with pride. Your horror story (sorry birth story) will be recycled by me. The next time a friend wants to talk scary birth stories, I will throw yours into the mix. It is not my story I will announce, in case anybody doesn't know, but I will take some (aright lots of) pleasure in rehashing it and drawing out the really gruesome moments.
Even though I take it all on the chin there comes a moment when enough is enough. I am the only one left now with out children. Friends are now on their second, third and I am sure fourth babies and I haven't even had the chance to release an egg, let alone get it fertilised. So please spare a thought about who else is reading your posts. Don't stop by any means just have a bit of consideration. I do.
I make a very conscious effort not to talk about teaching all the time, unless it is a very hard/funny experience. Usually it is about rude things kids have said, and I would share that whether I was a teacher or if I heard someone say it at the supermarket. I have gone so far as to join a couple of teaching groups on social media so that I can spout off to people who can empathise and give me advice, so that I don't fill up people's feeds with random complaints, and boring stories.
Don't stop the pictures I love those, don't stop the conversations, that is the worst thing you could do. I am infertile, it is not who I am, but it is a part of me. I was recently reminded of a list I had posted a couple of years ago (from a blog called NoleNurse) that seems to sum up what I need to say.
Do
* Provide unbiased support. Sometimes I just wanna cry, or vent, or talk about how upset I am. Please just let me have this release and I promise I'll feel better.
* Give genuine hugs. I can feel how much you care.
* Pray.
* Give me space. I'm obviously not shy about sharing our struggles, but there are few times where I'd rather just not talk about it.
* Let me drink a beer. If my doctor says it's ok, then don't judge me.
* Let me cry. Sometimes this is the only thing that makes things better at that very moment. Don't be embarrassed or uncomfortable.
* Randomly email, call, text. I can't begin to explain how important those little gestures mean to me.
* Allow for my emotional and hormonal roller coaster I call my day to day life. I'm sorry in advanced for any meltdowns, outbursts, hot flashes, or whatever else may come without warning.
* Listen.
Don't
* Offer unsolicited fertility advice. While I appreciate helpful advice, I also know what's wrong with me. I don't ovulate. Like, at all. So telling me that your second cousins step brothers best friends aunt tried 10 years to have a baby and then tried (insert specific diet, drug, workout, position) and now has 10 beautiful children isn't helpful.
* Start any sentence with "Have you tried. . ." Yes I probably have, and no it hasn't worked.
* Tell me it will happen when I stop trying. Honestly? We did that the last four or so years. No, actually it won't happen when we stop trying, because again, I do not ovulate on my own. That little detail is pretty important in making a baby.
* Tell me not to be so negative when I'm upset that something didn't work. While I know this is well-intended, and for the most part I do try to stay positive, sometimes I just want to be bummed. I didn't get the results I wanted and it hurts and it sucks. Let me feel like this.
* Talk about my weight or body. Or even worse, tell me I look pregnant! It's not hard to look at my body as broken or as the enemy in this process, and I don't need to be reminded that my outside reflects this fact.
* Talk about how crazy your kids are and how lucky we are to sleep in. Not cool.
* Tell me to relax or not stress about it. I am managing my stress pretty well if you ask me, and I don't need to be reminded that the unavoidable stress is bad for my situation.
* Judge my choices. You can't say what you would do until you're put in that situation.
* Ask me if I'm pregnant yet. Trust me, you will know when it happens and when I'm ready to share it!
Again, from day one we've had nothing but love and support. Anytime I've been hurt or frustrated with what people tell me, I know it's not ill-willed or malicious. However, that doesn't escape the fact that it still hurts, sometimes pretty bad. So whether it be someone you know struggling with infertility or any other difficult situation, remember to be considerate, compassionate, and when in doubt, a simple hug and a "I'm here for you" is usually all that's needed.
You are now part of quite a globe trotting family. In the past few years your mum and dad have been to almost every continent in the world. They are the kind of adrenalin junkies that make homebodies (like me, I suppose) break out in a cold sweat. They jump out of planes, hurl themselves down mountains, swim in shark infested waters all in the name of fun.
