Baby bumps and wedding blues

My good friend was blissfully and happily married on Saturday evening. And since this is all about me, I can share that I was reminded of an important life lesson. More wine will not lift your spirits if you are fighting the non baby blues. It just gives you a killer of a headache the next day. 

Of course the wedding was wonderful and my friend was truly beautiful in her classic white gown and veil. Early in the reception I made small talk with dear friends and new acquaintances. Unless someone asked me how I was doing — I mean really asked — I was fine. Friendly. Smiley. And looking pretty good. I sailed through a couple of potentially emotional hiccups. Like, talking to my friend about her baby of four months and sympathizing on how tough it can be. I even invited her and her daughter over next week during my day off. Like casually responding to “so do you have kids?”

Dinner came and M and I squeezed into the last seats at our assigned table and I sat beside my very good friend who is four months pregnant and her husband. Ok, feeling a little bit tougher. I drink wine because I can and talked with my glowing, happy mom-to-be friend. She is wearing an empire waist dress and it’s hard to tell if she has a baby bump or a too-many–treats bump. We talked about the house they just bought, work, health, our friends, even our pets. Not a whole lot about her pregnancy — I know she was trying to be sensitive. Her husband…not so much. There were a few times when his actions shot a little pain in my heart. Like when he rubbed her tummy. And this one:

She: Will you please get me a soda water, honey?

He: Of course, because you are having my baby.

Ow, ow, ow, ow (and a little bit of gag me). So she drank soda water and I drank more wine, convinced the alcohol would give me the happy buzz if I just had enough. I realized that the twingeworthy moments were not about my loss, but about my husband and how my miscarriages and infertility are preventing him from creating the family he longs for too. My friend’s husband is so happy. His wife, his love, is having his baby and fulfilling his dream of a family and being a dad. The fact that I have not been able to give M the same kills me.

The next day, post the greasy breakfast, rehydrating gatorade and nap, I talked about this to my husband. Well, half talked and half blubbered. I feel like I am letting him down and if I am not able to give him what he wants then he should find someone who should. He’s so damn loyal I don’t worry about this too much, but I do a bit especially after hearing a couple of horror stories. And should I not let him go if I love him so he can at least be a fulfilled family man? Round and round my brain goes. 

M said he knows I am trying, we both are. Failing him would have been if I decided after we got married that I didn’t want to have kids. Now, I am trying, we both are. And we will continue to be. 

After miscarriage 1 I was consulting with one of the fertility doctors at the clinic — one I don’t normally see. We were talking about trying for another pregnancy and I told her that the infertility issues were mine and that my husband had the boys that could swim. “This is my problem, not his” I said. She looked at me sternly. “We don’t talk that way here,” she said. 

I remember her saying it…I wish I was better at feeling and living it.