This past week, I told my coworkers about Z4. I don’t know if it’s the history of pregnancy loss, or simply that my personality has changed somewhat since Pregnancy #1, but the actually TELLING has been really difficult for me. I feel so socially awkward for some reason… it’s weird.
During naptime, most of the teachers sit in the hallway & chat (this is actually where I used to be ignored, which was one of my more glowing social moments). So I sit, & there would be a pause in the conversation & I would think “ok, Sarah, NOW!!” And then I would just keep sitting there until the moment passed. It’s such a strange thing to throw into a normal, everyday conversation… like kind of attention-grabby? I mean, what if one of them has fertility issues that I don’t know about? Or what if they don’t care that I’m knocked up, & then they feel obligated to act excited? I’ve been on the receiving end before, where I feel like everyone is waiting for the smile/hug/congrats & all I want to do is crawl in a hole & hide. Or better yet, scream “I DON’T GIVE A FLYING RAT’S ASS IF YOU’RE INSEMINATED” & throw myself on the floor & have a tantrum.
Um, yeah, about those social awkwardness issues… I can’t imagine why people wouldn’t love me. ::gives myself the side-eye::
So I finally told one teacher & told her that I felt awkward about telling people & she could tell whoever she wanted. And she obliged gleefully… really, how often do you get permission to spread juicy gossip? And I figured since the info would be coming secondhand, it would give anybody who doesn’t care the option of, well, acting like they don’t care because I’m not sitting there watching them.
Infertility has made everything different. When I walk through stores, I’m thankful that I don’t look pregnant yet because you never know who might feel punched in the gut at the sight of a pregnant belly. Hell, I’m the girl who would permanently glower when faced with the prospect of walking the bellyrubber gauntlet at Dr. Obgyn’s office. At HobLob, I would choose the checkout line with the non-pregnant cashier even if it meant waiting longer. When (if) I do begin to look pregnant, I hate that I’m going to “that girl”… the girl who causes pain to others by merely existing. I feel guilty that I’m maybe finally getting what so many are longing for. I wish that I could hang a sign around my neck that says, “I’m so sorry if the sight of my pregnant belly hurts you.”
And then the thoughts always creep in of how badly it’s going to suck if something bad happens & I DON’T have to worry about having a pregnant belly. As selfish as it feels, please oh please let me have the opportunity to be “that girl.”