Every year the women in Bear’s maternal side of the family get together for a Vegas retreat, and in the past I’ve really worked to avoid going. Last year I just couldn’t find a way to talk my way out of it, so I sacked up and went, clawing my way to the door like an animal going to the vet. I ended up having quite a lot of fun despite myself. So when this years retreat came around, I didn’t hesitate and decided to go again. That was probably a mistake.
I think it might have had something to do with the fact that both of my sisters-in-law are pregnant (I threw a baby shower for one of them the day before we went) and then there were two pregnant women there out of the seven of us. I, of course, was the only one there without kids, so whenever we went shopping it was all about the kids stores, and all conversation revolved around kids and pregnancy and labor.
Not that I fault any of them for it. Mark my words, if it does ever happen for me I’m going to be the most insensitive and annoying person there ever was. After all this time I am not going to bridal my tongue for anything. I expect that every third word out of my mouth will be ‘baby’. But for right now, it just cut me to the heart.
It’s different after all this time. When we first started trying the longing was horrible, but we weren’t that far behind from our friends and family. Everyone expected that pregnancy would happen any day now and all that sadness would be instantly erased and that our little sprout would have all these cousins around to play with. Happy Day. But time has marched on and left us behind. By the time we have a child, if we do get to have a child, all the cousins will be so much older. Instead of all the baby excitement, now I’m watching everyone around me live through toddler and school excitement. And I’m still waiting.
I went on a scrapbook retreat a few weeks ago where a bunch of friends went up to a cabin in the woods and scrapbooked for a solid weekend. I was only close with a couple people there and was looking forward to getting to know some new women in the community. But they all have school age children, and I don’t. They spend their time researching schools and arranging play groups and chauffeuring to lessons and running the PTA. I spend my time embroiled in the creative process and trying to carve out a career. They swap stories about which teachers are the best and how to help little johnnie to read, and I…make stuff. I didn’t really have anything to add to their conversations, so I sat there. Feeling small and broken and out of place.
Going to baby shower after baby shower, I really thought it couldn’t get any worse. I thought that baby showers must be the epitome of hell to an infertile woman. But I’ve discovered that it gets much worse. I’m still standing on the pier and watching as Motherhood sails away into the sunset, growing smaller and smaller until it’s far away and I’m here on my own.