This
summer, my brother’s girlfriend of thirteen years announced she was pregnant. It was unplanned, and she had previously said she didn't know if she
wanted children. Dealing with the pregnancy has been a difficult time in her
life. She even found it difficult to say the p-word
(pregnant). She was contemplating only
taking two weeks off from her budding professional career postpartum, leaving
my brother to take paternity leave.
The
baby would be the first grandchild for my parents, and the first great
grandchild for my maternal grandparents.
He will change our previously baby-free family holidays
forever. The announcement was a tough
pill to swallow and evoked a lot of “why her and why not me, God?” feelings. I read the book "Why bad things happen to good people" by Harold Kushner, and it changed my perspective and helped ease some of my pain.
I try to remember that this is as traumatic of an experience for her right now as she has likely ever been through. That if I had gotten pregnant when I didn't want to I would have felt similarly. She is a great person, and I love
her. She has a good heart and she is
good to my brother.
She had just learned some of the most private and upsetting details of our infertility journey. This past spring during an evening canoe ride at the family cottage, I poured my heart out to her about my second miscarriage and a recent breast cancer scare. During the first miscarriage, she and her mother prayed for us. It was one of the most caring responses that we experienced.
She had just learned some of the most private and upsetting details of our infertility journey. This past spring during an evening canoe ride at the family cottage, I poured my heart out to her about my second miscarriage and a recent breast cancer scare. During the first miscarriage, she and her mother prayed for us. It was one of the most caring responses that we experienced.
Recently, her
sister started planning a shower and asked for a date that I would be free to
attend. I live several hours away by
car, and felt that it was kind of them to be thoughtful of our travel
needs. I gave a date that I could attend (which was
last weekend), and held my breath.
I wasn’t sure if I would go or
not. In this situation, a last minute
excuse would have been very obvious. The
date was set with us in mind, and also because I would be seeing most of the
same people the day before at an event.
When I asked one of my biggest IF
cheerleaders what to do, she suggested that I not go. She told me about how she attended her
sister’s shower when she was struggling with IF and it resulted in tears at the
shower.
I generally only get later-onset
feelings of sadness about these events.
After I’m in the car by myself, or when I’m in the comfort of my own
home, the tears come. Although sometimes
I wish I could share my emotions more publicly, but I’m not a public
crier. My debate on whether to attend
the shower wasn’t one of whether I could hold myself together there or
not. I knew I could, and for the record,
if this were the case, I would have simply chosen not to go. The choice for me was more about whether what
I call the “baby hangover” would be worth it?
I have been to other events,
mostly gatherings of friends with their children where if I had I known what
the intensity of my feelings would be after the event, I would have chosen not
to go. Tears, and weeks of little
tidbits of conversations floating around in my head were torture.
I decided I would go to her
shower. For a few reasons:
1.
Because I wanted to show my support for them.
2.
She is not annoying about her flaunting her
pregnancy.
3.
Because it would have been obvious if I bailed.
4.
I felt like I could get through it without
crying.
5.
I was in a relatively good place with our
infertility, with no fresh wounds.
6.
I had a plan on how to avoid being traumatized
(and hopefully a baby hangover) and worst-case scenario, I had a car to leave
anytime I needed to.
My plan to avoid trauma was simple. Sit as far away from the action as
possible. Sit beside people who would be
sensitive to my infertility. Help with
the food and other preparations as much as possible. Pay attention to the
baby-related events only when necessary.
Leave at the first opportunity.
Overall, I am glad I went. I survived and I feel like the baby hangover
was very low grade. I wouldn’t do it for
everyone but I’m glad I was able to do it for them.
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