I went out for dinner last night with a group of Mum’s that I see regularly. There are five of us and we try to meet once a week for a playdate. Once a month or so, we have a girl’s night out.
Recently I have found that I am getting less and less enjoyment out of our meetings. I actually feel a little bit weird writing this – kind of ungrateful and spiteful – but it’s not really them, it’s me (that old cliché).
We met through the NCT classes that we did pre- and post-pregnancy. All four of them are great women who are doing a fantastic job with their kids.
When I originally got pregnant last year (and subsequently lost the baby), there was no other talk of pregnancy from anyone. Since then, two of them have gotten pregnant. We now have an extra newborn and the second is due to have her baby in 6 weeks.
Every single time we meet up, I try not to let this affect me.
But I can’t.
I admit it.
It’s shit and I pretty much always come home miserable.
The talk of breastfeeding, pregnancy scans, maternity clothes, pregnancy tiredness and birth plans comes round over and over and over again (as it obviously would with two pregnant women), and the non-pregnant two are happy that their families are complete so love the nostalgia and the coo-ing over baby stuff.
Then there is me.
The one that can’t stay pregnant. The one that desperately wants, but can’t have, another child. The one whose body doesn’t work any more. The one who feels inadequate in the corner and who is finding it harder and harder to join in with any of these conversations.
We went out for dinner last night.
Right at the end of the evening, in the dark, we sat at our outside table and the subject of my predicament came up. For any of you who have ever tried for any length of time to conceive you will recognise the nerve-grating reaction of hearing people tell you to JUST RELAX AND IT WILL HAPPEN, which is what was said.
But not only that.
I said that after 15 months, there had to come a point where I decided not to keep trying.
Pregnant friend said, well, remember that you WERE pregnant for some of that time. And it did take me 8 months to conceive baby no.3.
Maybe it was just the way she said it, but it came out as though she was basically telling me to stop moaning because I’ve only been trying for a few months. Yet, as she said, she conceived in just over half the time that we have been trying and still no baby for me.
There have been other things that she has said and done recently that have hurt my feelings so much. I can’t work out if they are deliberate or not.
Not long after that we all left the restaurant and all said goodbye to each other. I was glad that I drove myself and the others were lift sharing, because I cried all the way home in my car.