I hate pregnant people. I hate their ability to become pregnant. I hate that they have no idea how much their child hurts me. It’s not like I can ask them to be more sensitive to my situation. I know what’s happened to them is the most wonderful thing imaginable. Everyone minds their manners around women that have suffered a miscarriage, but what about those fighting infertility? I feel guilty every month when I get my period. My husband and I have been trying for two years to achieve what others call “an accident,” or “a surprise,” or even “a mistake.” Every month that I go without getting pregnant, I feel like the very definition of failure. I can feel how disappointed and hurt my husband is every time I tell him that the test was negative.
Girls half my age are getting pregnant with their second or third child, and I can’t even manage to get one. Most of the time, I don’t even feel like a real human because I can’t function on the most primal level. I have everything to offer a child. We have a stable home, all the love in the world to give, I have all the time in the world to give my child, but it all seems like a waste. People who have nothing to offer a child seem to pop them out like PEZ candy. They are poverty-stricken, ignorant, and unable to give up their fickle desires so their child might live better, and yet they can have them with no problem.
I have given up trying to talk to others about how I feel. All I ever hear back are the empty replies of, “Oh, if you stop trying it will happen,” “Best things come to those who wait,” “Maybe it’s not meant to be right now,” “When I got pregnant…,” etc. I know I shouldn’t, but every time I see someone that’s pregnant, I become angry. I’m angry at myself for not being able to conceive easily, I’m angry at them because they take for granted that wonderful life-changing moment, and I’m angry at others for not understanding how badly this hurts me.
image- Ruth and Dave