BITTER....SWEET

So, once again, the whole point of creating this blog was to find a way to deal with the frustrations of this whole infertility roller coaster I have been on for the past two years. My friend Sandra suggested that I use a blog as an online journal to "vent." And lately, it's been working....or so I thought.

Now I am starting to wonder if the venting I do here is carrying over into my personal life too much. No one - I mean no one - wants to deal with a chronic complainer - and I am terrified that I am starting to become one of those people.

Case and point, I went out last night. I can't TELL you the last time I actually went out on a Friday night, but this band that we know was having a CD release party at a bar and I thought what the hell? Go blow off some steam. I could DEFINITELY use a night out to blow off some steam, let me tell you.

Two factors immediately interfered with my ability to let loose, though. One, the South Beach Diet that I am currently on. After today, I only have one more day left in Phase 1 - the most carb-restricted phase - and then on Monday I can ease into Phase 2. Because I am on the South Beach Diet (a last-ditch attempt to lose some of that extra weight I have put on in my wedded years), in Phase 1 there is no alcohol allowed whatsoever, and absolutely no cheating of any kind allowed whatsoever.

The second factor is of course the infertility issue. At the beginning of my next cycle which is in under two weeks, we'll begin the whole IUI process. Because of that, both Anthony and I were instructed to immediately abstain from alcohol.

Now, it sounds like I am saying that I need to drink to blow off steam. That is not necessarily true, but last night it would have been nice to. I don't know one person who has not at some point just said "I am going out and getting HAMMERED tonight" just because that is what they felt like doing. And as restless and frustrated as I have been feeling lately, I could have used a night like that.

But I was good, I stuck with my water and my 2 Diet Cokes, and managed to have a reasonably good time. But here is where I am afraid that my blog-mentality may be spilling over into the real world: I noticed last night that I was directing my bitterness about this whole personal struggle of mine onto perfect strangers. And in doing so, I was making them uncomfortable. A guy offered to buy me a drink, and when I turned him down, he said he was going to get me a shot, then. I stopped him and said, "No, please, do not buy me alcohol, I am trying to get pregnant and if you buy me a drink I just might drink it." His response (which I really can't blame him for because it would have been my misguided response two years ago) was "So...go get pregnant!" Poor, poor man. I proceeded to tell him my life story with regards to unsuccessful baby-making, and he absolutely didn't know what hit him.

Later, I ran into a member of the band who gave me a hug and said "How's married life?" (I've been married for almost 3 years and he still opens with this question every time I see him). I say "It's great" and he then says "Are you pregnant?"

Now, my issues aside, I think I am right when I say no matter who you are, the one question you NEVER EVER ask a woman is whether or not she is pregnant, because if she isn't you are bound to offend her in any number of ways. This offended me because of both my South Beach Diet (oh so I look pregnant, I am such a big fat pig) and because of my "issues". So I launched the bitterness at him.

"No, Sean, I am not pregnant. I cannot GET pregnant."
"Yeah, why not?" he replied, not understanding what I was saying.
"I'd sure as hell love to know why not, but I can't!" Can you believe at this point I am almost shouting? I haven't seen this person in nine-months.
"oh....". Another victim of my bitterness, I left him standing there searching for words and headed for the Ladies'.

Long story short (too late), I don't like what I saw of myself last night. I guess I haven't had a lot of social interaction in the last several months, and if this is what I am going to do to people when I am out and about I should do the world a favor and continue to hibernate.

I am going to try to make a conscious effort to not inject others with my bitterness. I may BE bitter - that's fine. I may vent about everything on this blog - that, too, is fine, that was the whole point of creating the blog in the first place - vent without being judged. But I have to remember that even though my infertility consumes my every thought, all the time, it doesn't mean that people want to hear about it all the time. In fact, it doesn't mean that people want to hear about it AT ALL. I need to remember that a casual "Hey how's it going" is generally asked by someone hoping for the "great, and you?" response. No one REALLY wants to know how its going - not at a bar with a funky band playing.

I'm going to start practicing to be a nicer, sweeter, less-bitter self on the outside. The whole world doesn't need to know what is going on inside. Not until I actually get pregnant and have it announced as Breaking News on CNN.

COME ON, EILEEN

(At last, the blog I've been putting off writing, because I wanted to make sure I did it right.)

It's a funny thing, being the oldest child - especially in a family of all daughters. At a young age, I learned that being the oldest actually came with some understood responsibilities - acting mature, setting a good example, being a positive role model for my two younger sisters, and (most importantly) "breaking in the parents" so that my sisters could get away with more and more things as they grew up in my shadow. I didn't always succeed at these responsibilities, but nevertheless it was mutually understood between my parents and me that I was expected to at least TRY to acheive these things.

Along the way, I made some assumptions that, in retrospect, are just plain silly.

Assumption #1: I would be the first child to get married.

Assumption #2: I would be the first child to have a baby, thus giving my parents their first grandchild.

These assumptions just crept into my life one day, possibly when I was in my teen years, and they just became indisputable facts over time. First born, first to experience these "life events." It just made sense. Especially considering that I have 5 years on Eileen, and 8 years on Cheryl. I had a big jump on both of them.

Recently, however, I realized something important. I realized that this life of mine isn't a race. And being first really isn't up to me, and furthermore, it isn't expected of me.

In fact, I recently started thinking about things from my sister Eileen's point of view. I was, in fact, the first child to be married in my family. About 9 months before my wedding, Eileen got engaged to her long-term boyfriend, Kevin. She and Kevin at that point had been a serious couple for about seven years. But, she was concerned to some degree about "stealing my thunder" and basically made the statement that she'd step aside and get the attention coming to her once my wedding was over. I thought that was very considerate of her. I didn't appreciate the magnitude of this gesture until very recently, however.

Now, when Anthony and I got engaged, we had been a couple for under three years. I wasn't phased at all about the fact that I was getting married before my sister Eileen, because, after all, I was the oldest and therefore I SHOULD be getting married first. I never really looked at it from her point of view. She had been with her significant other for so much longer than I had, and then she had to stand back and watch me get married first. Not only that, she felt the need to downplay her own engagement because I had impending nuptials and she didn't want to take away from my day.

So, things got interesting when Eileen called me at work on Friday, April 23rd, to cautiously give me the news that she and Kevin were expecting a baby.

She knows the agony I am going through. She knows we have been trying for two-years unsuccessfully to conceive our first child. She knows that I actually wanted to start trying to conceive even sooner than we did, but we foolishly did not. Hindsight is always 20/20. And although it is unspoken, she knows that I assume that I will be the "first" at every life event in our family (back to the whole birth-order-assumption-thing). I even think she knows that I wanted to be the daughter who made our parents "grandparents" for the very first time.

So she called to very nervously deliver her news, not knowing how I might respond. Once again, my sister was putting her own excitement on the backburner to spare my feelings. Talk about a positive role model!

Please understand, the point of tonight's blog is not to pat myself on the back, because I don't deserve that. But, I do want to say that my reaction to her news surprised even me.

I had nothing but genuine happiness for her.

No jealousy, no feeling sorry for myself that it was HER and not ME. Not one negative thought. Only happiness.

To be honest, I never expected that reaction from myself - I didn't think I would be able to prevent the inevitable disappointment I have felt a dozen times over with my friends, friends who have had TWO babies in the time I have tried to have one. I have told these friends that I can be happy for them and sad for me at the same time, and that is the truth. In a way maybe I mentally was preparing for the possibilty that Eileen would succeed at this before I did. I knew that she was also trying to have a baby, and I guess that when I logically added up the facts - her younger age, my long-term troubles, etc - it started to look like a very real possibility that I would not be "THE FIRST" at this endeavor. Maybe it is Eileen's turn to be first at something HUGE.

And it is okay with me.

In fact it is more than okay. It is wonderful. Eileen told me they would like me to be the Godmother, and it is just about the best thing that has ever happened to me. One way or another, a beautiful little baby will be in all our lives soon. In MY life soon. How can that POSSIBLY be anything to be sad about?