Not Okay

I am not okay. Are you not okay too?

Maybe you are in the same spot where the miscarriage is still raw, or you had yet another negative test or your period came this morning at work. Maybe you just can’t handle one more Facebook baby announcement (there is seriously something in the water) or maybe another co-worker is expecting.

Either way you are not okay because your face has been shoved in your miserable shit just one too many times lately and you are getting a little too close to the ledge.

When I get too close to the ledge I have what I call “episodes”. I had one over the weekend.  A bit of wine and I was off doing something else and all of sudden it came flooding back to me.  I have been to Toronto twice in the last two years and both times I was supposed to do something baby-related with one of my closest friends. And both times it didn’t happen. The next thing I know I am crying and I can’t stop.  It is horrible, embarassing, lonely and alienating.

Once I went to a friend’s birthday party and all the women who showed up were pregnant.  Another time it was a brunch.  Both times I am in the bathroom sobbing and wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I wanted to run out the door and not look back.  I just couldn’t face a room/table full of people and their pity.

When I tell you I don’t have control over these episodes, I mean it.  Trust me. I don’t want to come out to that party with a red nose and my eye make-up rubbed off.  But I can’t stop.  It is a visceral reaction.

Everything hurts. Everything.

Those of you on this journey know what I mean and for those of you not on the journey, sometimes we need space. I can’t make your baby shower/birthday party/kid-centered event. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, it is me. I am not okay.

I know you want to shout it out loud. I do too.


3 thoughts on “Not Okay

  1. Hugs hugs hugs. I go to a Pilates class where I resent the instructor’s casual, weekly request to ‘Please let me know if you are pregnant’.

    I’m surprised when I see one friend with her newborn one week and I’m fine (she’s asked about every step of our IVF treatment). But then I the next day I speak to another friend with a newborn (who hasn’t checked on me once) and I want to cry my eyes out.

    I find myself rolling my eyes at and loathing the speakers at the Climate Change conference I’m at when they keep harping on about Saving the Planet, ‘for our children’. I don’t have any goddamn children yet, ok?

    I cry through my dentist’s appointment when the hygienist I normally see is heavily pregnant and I’m scooted into a backroom with a different technician – do they know about how infertile I am? Are they trying to protect me? I stumble into her on the way out and we both do an awkward exchange, her blurting out her pregnancy, me heartily congratulating her in a flat and monotonous tone.


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