Last week the lady who makes my take-away coffee asked me if I was married. I told her I’d been married for 7 wonderful years.
I held my breath and waited for the inevitable question that follows the marriage question.
“Do you have children?”. My answer was a short and firm ‘no’.
“What? Why not? You should have kids! You’d be a great mum”.
I think my response shocked her. “My husband and I can’t have children. Thanks for the coffee and have a nice day”.
I fought back a whole-lotta silly tears and made a bee line for the lifts to my office. Having a mini breakdown in the middle of the coffee shop ain’t my style. I know my response would have left her feeling a little bad but I wasn’t going to lie to her.
To top it off, one of my colleagues yesterday asked me if I was pregnant. {I swear I’m never wearing that dress again!}
I am not pregnant. I wish I was pregnant. But I am not pregnant.
I struggle everyday with the infertility stuff. There was a moment in time when I was very private about it but there comes a point when you realise talking about it to family/friends/coffee shop ladies ….. just makes you stronger.
People tell me all the time that I’m brave for sharing my infertility ‘woe-me’ stories. Maybe I am. Maybe I just over share. But I hope my car crash over-sharing helps other women feel like they are not alone.
I understand the coffee shop lady was curious. People in general are curious as to why no children exist after 7 years of marriage. Most of the time I’m strong enough to tell them about my 3 babies and how I lost them, but sometimes a topic is too sensitive and it hurts like hell to talk about it. It’s really painful to think back and reflect on the moments my babies grew wings and became my angels. It makes my ovaries ache and my womb sob.
I hope this serves as a good reminder for you, and a good reminder for me that we all struggle with something. Asking super personal questions can do damage. Be aware.
So, I’m not pregnant. I don’t have human children. I want them. Badly. But life doesn’t always give us what we want. Perhaps hubby and I are meant to hike the Mt Everest pathway to parenthood. Maybe a surrogate will knock on our door. Maybe we need to explore adoption in depth. Maybe the universe will read this and send a stork our way.
Image credit My Baby Lover Pinterest board
