Having babies, that is. Or at least almost everyone I know.
Two women became pregnant (so painfully easily) around the time when I was just figuring out that... 'Houston, we have a problem!'
#1 made the announcement at an evening get together exactly two days after I found out my diagnosis of Premature Ovarian Failure. I cried for a bit in her bathroom, feeling the unfairness of it all. #2 made her announcement later that week at a brunch. I had to force a smile and congratulations, holding back the tears for later. Both of these women are 10+ years older than me, to boot. And no medical procedures were used to conceive! (Lucky, huh?)
And now, it's almost nine months later. I attended the baby shower #1 this past Saturday. I got in a fight with my sweet husband before going, over how sad I was about the shower. He thought I should feel only happiness for her, and that her having a baby did not really effect me in any way. I told him the truth, that I really am very happy for her, but also feel so very sad for myself because in a perfect world it would have been me having my baby shower that day.
#2, the wife of a friend, lives out of the country and is having baby items shipped to our house to save costs. Rub it in, why don't ya, universe?! Thank goodness the items are all packed in generic amazon boxes. No visible sign of the no doubt, adorable baby-wares within.
I know I'm being ungrateful, and part of me feels like a bad person for feeling this way. I have a great life. A house, good work, nice friends, and a husband who loves me. But sometimes, I feel like when it comes to fertility, the universe is sending me a big F-U!!