>After my last post, I had to go out of town for a week. I do plan to keep posting, though, and it was encouraging to read your comments. Thanks! šŸ™‚

I spent the week visiting family, which always leaves me feeling out of sorts. I love my family, but I really do so much better seeing them for 3-5 days than for a full week. I’m not really sure what I was thinking.

I’ve mentioned some of the conversations I’ve had with my mom about dealing with infertility – and I’ve said they never go very well. That’s still true, but she did remind me of an interesting point that I knew, but had sort of forgotten about. She’s said many times (although I think she forgets that she told me this, because she tells me each time like it’s a big secret she’s never shared) that if she hadn’t gotten pregnant accidentally (with me), she doesn’t know whether she would have decided to have children or not. She and my dad were married, but they weren’t trying to have children (and must have been trying to avoid it). I think she always feels a little bad when she tells me (although not bad enough to keep it to herself), but I am not particularly offended by it (especially since she’s told me this multiple times). She said after having me, it was easy to decide to have a second child, but she’s not sure she would have chosen to have children had she not become pregnant accidentally the first time.

I’m not entriely sure why she tells me this in relation to infertility. She may think it’s similar to my decision to not pursue treatment (which is SO not the same thing), or she may just be trying to explain that having children was never terribly important to her. To me, though, it demonstrates why it’s so difficult for her to relate. She had me when she was 24…I’m 36 now. She got pregnant accidentally, and I can’t have a child. She wasn’t sure she wanted children, and got them anyway, while I have had to decide how much I’m willing to endure to make it happen. I don’t think she can relate to my situation in any way, and my mom isn’t a very empathetic person in the first place. But, I try to understand where she’s coming from, and the fact that she keeps telling me about her unplanned pregnancy seems to contribute to her attitude.

It seemed like there were pregnant people everywhere while I was there, and I know so few people there without children. No one said anything insulting, but since they all know we tried to have children, they just don’t say anything at all. Last summer, my family and friends were excited that we were trying to have children (even though I explained we had already been ttc for a year!), so it was sort of depressing to be there again, a year later, with no baby or pregnancy. I don’t want to talk about infertility all the time, but sometimes, people’s silence is worse. Sometimes, a little compassion or even acknowledgement would be nice.

It was hard being there without M, especially. It’s easy there to get sucked into focusing on what I don’t have, instead of the things that make me happy, especially without M by my side. I hated coming back to work, but I was glad to come home. After living away from my family for so long, it’s hard not to feel like an outsider, and being childless doesn’t help. It feels good to be back in my own home, with my husband and my dog, focusing on what’s good, instead of what’s missing.

I saw this on a blog (unrelated to infertility) this morning, and wanted to share it. I think it was what I needed to hear (or read) after my week away.

Real women have children, real women cannot have children, real women choose not to have children, real women will have children someday, real women are unsure about having children, real women have grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

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