The outside world

This whole nightmare would be a whole lot easier without the outside world to contend with. I could focus on the positive, believe in the power of my body, trust in my doctors and let the memories of the TFMR fade. And alone by myself I do all of that and it works until I am reminded of the fragility of it all.

In the last week, two of my friends celebrated their second child’s first birthday. A wonderful occasion and so thankful to be included in their joy if it weren’t another ugly reminder of what should have been. I too got pregnant at the same time as them, in the fall of 2009, and like them suffered awful morning sickness and dread of having two under two. And had my dear son not had Trisomy 18, we too would be joining in the party. I would have spent the last year struggling with an active and spirited toddler and a needy and wonderful newborn rather than having spent tens of thousands of dollars on treatments and endless hours researching, shuttling and questioning. Most of the time it doesn’t hurt. I am happy with my life but the one-year marker is just another stab of what might have been.

If that weren’t enough, seeing one pregnant after another is just pure torture. You would think if all of these women could do it so effortlessly and had much greater maternal ages than I, then what is wrong with me? To top it off, my dear friend, who’s second daughter is celebrating her first this week, just announced to me that she now is pregnant with her third at nearly 42- an accident. From a fertility standpoint, she did everything wrong. She drank wine and coffee heavily, ran and was under enormous stress. So once again, she will give me the advice, “just drink and don’t think about it!” Ugh, if it were only so easy!

So I just put on my brave face, smile through the birthday parties, pat my friends pregnant bellies and offer up my nice supply of maternity and baby boys clothes. It sucks but someday, somehow, there will be an end to this.