Scheduled an “emergency” meeting with Dr Jerry this afternoon, and sobbed the entire hour. He finally just handed me the tissue box. Told him that I didn’t like who I was being, but didn’t know how to stop. That I wanted to suck out some of the joy of Jennifer & Tom’s news, felt a tiny sense of satisfaction when I accomplished my goal, then was overcome by the pure witchiness of myself. Yuck on me. Told him that I felt completely overwhelmed and drained at the thought of the next 8 months… knowing that maternity shopping, nursery decorating, & baby showers are in my immediate forecast, and the very thought of all that crap makes me want to run far, far away. He told me that I only have to participate in those things as much as I WANT. He did tell me that he would suggest a written apology for today’s phone blow-up, because he feels that an in-person apology could very realistically turn sour since the emotions are still lurking directly below the surface. One misplaced word, one wrong look, and I’ll be right back where I started, partaking of the brew o’ bitchiness and screaming the f-word.
I feel panicky… I think this is a feeling that anyone who has dealt with infertility can relate to… the dread of knowing that your fertile sister/friend/cousin is going to sideswipe you with a pregnancy announcement at any moment. Of course, I’ve been sideswiped twice now by the same person. But who’s counting?
Then there’s the childish “IT’S MY TURN!!” reaction. As immature as it is, we’re 24 hrs post-announcement and I still haven’t managed to shake it. I’m the oldest sister, damn it — isn’t there something wrong with this picture?
And then there’s that good ole feeling of dread… dreading Easter, because I’ve already committed to spending the day with the happy expectant couple. Dreading the next weekend, when we’re going to have “The Family Announcement,” complete with grandparents. Yeah, that won’t suck AT ALL. Dreading the flood of congrats from our family of Fertiles-R-Us. Dreading the doctor appts, with ultrasound pics on the fridge and baby name books strewn about the living room. And I just have a feeling that she’s going to have the first boy too. Why do I even have these stupid little hopes like having the first grandbaby, or having the first boy? I mean, seriously. It just makes for constant disappointment. All of this looks so stupid and childish when it’s written out… blah.
So many things have clicked into place today — I was just plain stupid not to see this one coming. Jennifer was painting Maggie’s nursery, but suddenly the project stopped. The frequent references to pregnancy tossed into the conversation. Talk of putting Maggie in a toddler bed. Last weekend, they decided to sell the car and buy “something bigger.” How obvious can you get??… and I remained completely oblivious. Hung out with Jennifer nearly every day for the last 3 weeks, and was still totally blind-sided. Wow. Makes me think that perhaps I just don’t know her that well.
Sue has a great little life down in Charleston now… she’s met friends, making great grades, loves her roomie, and with the exception of some, um, “financial difficulties,” she’s doing exceptionally well. And Jennifer’s obviously just dandy… moving right along. Happy marriage, lovely house, minivan in the wings, with 1.5 babies. Super-dee-duper.
I’m such a brat, really I am. Dr Jerry says feelings aren’t wrong. That’s become my new mantra… what a coincidence that I just happen to be feeling like a total piss-ant at the moment.