The link above is to a post about a post. I appreciate the blogger's honesty about the "lenses" formed for her in her struggle with infertility and her determination to turn towards tolerance and keep an open mind. She discusses the shift in her reaction -- from sympathy to something closer to bitterness -- to parents complaining about parenting, as her journey toward parenthood became increasingly long and difficult.
I'll admit there is some of this in me, too. There certainly are times of bitterness, jealousy, self-pity, self-doubt. But somehow my hope and my trust that my husband and I will have children, and that this childless time is allowing for growth and strengthening in ourselves and in our marriage that will come in really handy when we do have children, remains the louder voice so far. Of course, we still have a viable option in front of us to get me pregnant -- we haven't done a full IVF round yet, and the IVF meds are covered by insurance (saving us maybe $5000), meaning there is hope we can afford to do it again if it doesn't work. Many, many women have been trying longer than we have, have been through much more, or don't have as many options b/c they don't have insurance or other resources. So I am not passing judgment on the blogger mentioned above (in fact, I chat with her online and think she is very wise and compassionate) or any other woman (or man) facing infertility.
My bitterness comes more from feeling left out and having things not go the way I think they should go. Many of my friends have already had their kids - two or three of them, years ago. My sister, my best friend, has kids that are ages 8 and almost 11. Many of the rest of my friends are not married and (I assume) won't be having babies anytime soon. Who is going to go through having her first baby with me? My original plan was to have babies when my sister and close friends were having babies, so we could all do that together. It hurts to feel left behind, either because I couldn't get married fast enough or couldn't get pregnant fast enough. I had plans about these things, for goodness sake!
What is that saying, "comparison is the thief of joy", or something like that. And why do I feel so entitled to any of this? Part of it is my perfectionism. I see how something goes for someone else, anyone else, even if it's in a movie or a book, and I think of how I want that to go in my life, how to perfect it. Have a baby in the year 2000 b/c my Grammy was born in 1900 and isn't that cool that if it was 1985 then I knew Grammy was 85 years old? I didn't even have a boyfriend in the year 2000. Have all four of my children in my 20's when my body could handle it better. I'm 36 now. Have kids when my sister has kids, so they can be same-age cousins who are friends all their lives b/c I didn't have that (luckily, there is some chance of this on my husband's side of the family, if we hurry up). So I guess a lot of it is about timing for me. I think I know when is the best time for things to happen, and God doesn't agree.
So my struggle is in learning to let go, since I have no control anyway.
This is kind of ramble-y. I need to go eat some breakfast!