Sunday, October 16, 2005

Mundane

We went to dinner with Michael's mom and her husband this evening, and (rather unexpectedly) about twelve people who they regularly play bridge with. After listening to the other bridge players go on and on about how many grandchildren they have for about an hour, and how their daughters in law are having to cut back on work, because well, you know - she has two small children at home now - I just couldn't take it anymore. I gave Michael the look. The if you don't get me out of here right now, something very bad is going to happen very quickly look.

As an aside, it was so uncomfortable to see how they were trying to "one up" each other with news about grandchildren. And how sad I was to see my Mother in Law sit there silent, without being able to offer stories about her nonexistent grandchildren.

We came home, and I made a quick jog (figuratively, I've been uber lazy lately) to the grocery store to pick up a few things. For the most part, I'm happy with the grocery store that is by my house. It's maybe - maybe - three minutes away, but it always strikes me as odd that it's in another state. I was strolling through the store, actually smiling at people who passed. I went to pick up a loaf of bread (why I'm not really sure because we never eat bread and it always goes stale long before we eat it) and as I'm turning onto the aisle where the bread is at - when it hits me like a ton of bricks.

The sweet scent of baby powder - of baby shampoo - of baby wash.

The grocery store keeps diapers and baby products on the same aisle as the bread. I know it must sound stupid, but it was like a giant slap in the face. Yet another reminder of what I don't have. Yet another reminder of what I can't seem to be capable of accomplishing.

Yet another little mundane part of life that reminds me that I am defective. broken. less.

Sometimes, the little reminders are so much harder than the large ones.

3 Comments:

At 1:05 PM, Anonymous Hill said...

I am a frequent reader, though an infrequent commenter and I don't even know you, so forgive me for being trite and cliche but, things CAN always be worse. I can imagine how difficult it is for you to believe that though, so try this: Since my friend was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at 19 (and twice again after that)she has no more ovaries and therefore NO chance for children. She is currently 26 and newlywed and they're talking about adoption opportunities. I don't want you to feel bad by reading this, I just wanted to illustrate a point - that hope is a very important thing. It can brighten even the darkest outlook and give you the motivation to keep trying. I hope that helps you and, if not, you can just delete it and forget I said anything. I just felt the need to be supportive as your last post seemed so sad. Whatever it takes, I hope you cheer up soon!

 
At 7:54 PM, Blogger Anne said...

I don't know which is worse, people nattering on about babies, or people deliberately not telling you about babies. I recently found out that a cousin I am not in touch with as well as the daughter of a very good friend of my mother's both had babies over the summer. My mother evidentally thought I would be crushed by the news. Well, I would have felt a twinge. But finding out by accident is worse. You're left imagining all the pitying thoughts that people had about you when they decided you were too fragile to hear the news. And somehow it makes you lose your dignity along with your fertility. Blech.

Thank you sooo much for your comment today. You are one fabulous friend in the computer.

 
At 8:17 PM, Anonymous T said...

Infertility is the hardest thing I have had to deal with and I've dealt with a lot of shit. There are studies that compare the stress of infertility to the stress of cancer, I have that information somewhere if you want it. Everyone has a different spin on hope - you definitely have a different idea of it once you've spent any amount of time in the infertility trenches with failure after failure. It's up there with relaxing and italian vacations.

btw - if you put your loaf in the freezer and take out the slices when you want them, you won't have to encounter the hideous aisle.

 

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