Turns out, a lot. Especially if you vacation for a week with 16 women, 13 of whom are mothers and three of whom are nurses.
The last couple of years I’ve gone to Vegas with Bear’s family, I ended up having an unexpectedly great time. This time, was a little more of a struggle. I really worried about going so soon after the miscarriage. I say so soon and I immediately have to count back because in some ways it seems like years since then, but in reality it’s only been five months. Five months filled with all kinds of other setbacks that have kind of kept me flat on my back.
Anyhoo, I’ve always felt slightly awkward being one of the very few without kids (and the only married one without kids), and I was worried how I’d cope. When you get a dozen mothers together, the conversation is always going to revolve around one of three things: 1) Kids say the darnedest things, 2) Pregnancy/Birth stories, 3) Great shopping for kid stuff. And then after the discussion of great shopping for kid stuff we get up and go shopping. For kid stuff.
But then we go to dinner, and see a good show, so the awkwardness kind of evens out. And isn’t that really all you can ask for when you’re an infertile? My standards have dropped precipitously. Instead of belonging to the group, now I just hope for slightly more time when I’m not praying for a hole to open up and swallow me than time when I am.
This time though, the hole won. I don’t think for a second that anyone was being malicious when they kept bringing up dead babies. The conversations just seemed to organically flow that way. One minute they’re talking about overly entitled OB/GYN’s, and the next thing you know somebody knew a woman whose doctor threw her miscarried fetus in the trash. We’re talking about getting in a car accident, and then it turns into a woman who miscarried at 20 weeks and had to go into labor, sobbing through the whole thing.
I just sat back in my seat thinking, “Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together, keep it together…..”
When the fetus got thrown in the trash though, I couldn’t do it any longer. I just had to get up and leave the room. I really tried to hang because I didn’t want to make a thing out of it. I didn’t want anyone to feel as awkward as I did or drag the room down, I just could. not. take. one. more. second. I think only one person noticed, though. And of course she’s one of the only other ones without kids. And of course she’s single and 26 and gorgeous and having a great time. But hey, cold comfort is still comfort.