I both can and can't imagine the immense heartache involved in all aspects of trying to conceive, pregnancy, birth and parenthood. I know what it's like to want a child so much you think your heart is going to decomp from sheer longing. I have no clue how horrible negative after negative test must be to a woman who is growing more and more frustrated with her body. I can't imagine the heartache found in a lost pregnancy or traumatic birth.
I'd like to think that, even though I can't fully comprehend the pain and ache that the women I know, I am sensitive (perhaps not 100% of the time) to their roller coaster-like emotions.
But (and there always has to be a but, doesn't there) I have a feeling my control, my restraint, my sensitivity are about to run out.
One friend in particular (and for the sake of anonymity, I'll call her Chelle) is currently knee-deep in TTC land. She emails or calls me about three times a week with rants on said journey. I commiserate. I empathize. I reassure her that, one way or another, I fully believe she will be pregnant and when she is we will have a very fun, non-alcoholic, girls night out.
Here's my issue, the reason for my ire, if you will: She has kids. I know, I know, that shouldn't change anything for me, but it does. My whining about wanting a baby is dismissed so quickly, whereas hers deserves nothing less than my full and undivided attention, but I don't have that gorgeous little toddler to hold.
I don't think her pain is less worthy because she has that handsome little boy and sweet girl, but when I tell her that it hurts to see pregnancy announcements, belly pictures and shower invitations, she "pooh-pooh's" me.
And all I want to tell her is that I count too.