Yesterday I ran into a friend and her new baby. Noah and I had been trying for two years before she got pregnant and now her baby is seven months old. SEVEN MONTHS OLD! I felt fine seeing them--he's super cute and she's really happy. That's all good and well. But it was such a reminder of how LONG Noah and I have been in this. She went through a whole pregnancy and has a seven month old while we're digging through the couch cushions looking for spare change to add to our next ART procedure fund. It made me start thinking about all the friends and co-workers and family members who have gone on to have families while we are chugging away. As I started calculating and doing the math I forced myself to stop. Just STOP! What's the point? How does thinking about any of this serve me?
It makes me feel...flabbergasted that our story feels sooooo never ending. It makes me want to scream, "Enough already!"
I have no control over everyone else's baby making luck, but I do have some control over my thoughts about it. (Some control, I don't want to give myself too much credit here). I just forced my brain to dump all the comparison and jealousy and...bafflement (is that a word?) out of my brain so that I could feel the sunshine and taste the deliciousness of a fresh green juice I just made. I reminded myself that this story, all of our stories, will find an end. It will. One day we will all be able to close the chapter on the dark infertility years, and begin writing a beautiful new story.