Written July 8, 2009 ...
My devotionals for the past few days have been on Ecclesiastes 3 “A Season for Everything”. Good chapter, good reminders … I kept thinking maybe my season of waiting would end soon. I kept wondering what season would end next, knowing that it wouldn’t necessarily be my “infertile” season.
And then she called. Terri called. Terri, my friend that God blessed me with on this infertile crappy journey called. She called to say, “I’m so sorry—but I’m pregnant!”
That’s it. The season’s over. I’m back to it just being me. Me, all alone. Me, “That Girl.” Me, the infertile one. Me, the non-pregnant one. Me. Just me. Not me and Terri anymore. Just me.
It never occurred to me that the next season to end would be the season of having a friend to slog through this with.
And I fully understand that Terri is still with me. It’s not like, now pregnant, she gets carted off to some other planet where pregnant ladies go to prepare for their children.
Or is it? They seriously are in another world. Going through things I can’t understand, experiencing things I haven’t experienced, sensing some deep need to bond only with each other…it really does put up a small wall when one of my friends gets pregnant. Course, I’m used to it now. I realized yesterday that every single one of my best, closest, “doing life together on a regular basis” friends are pregnant. Or just were. Seriously God? Really? When is it my turn?!
Terri and I have asked that question together now for almost exactly one year. Almost a year ago today we were commiserating over the fertility drugs we were about to start. We were joking about how cool it would be if we got pregnant together, on the same month’s cycle. We were venting about the side effects and imperfect processes of fertility drugs and procedures.
We have walked this journey, side by side for a year. 12 months. (Actually, more than that in all reality, but my email trails that I’ve saved go back to only a certain date.) And Terri has been with me on this path long before she started struggling herself. She has been a great friend, and I know she’ll continue to be. It’s just, this season is over. She’s pregnant; I’m not. I’m back to being alone.
The Friend who is Infertile.
I remember struggling with excited yet guilty feelings when I realized Terri was going to walk this journey with me. They’re still there. Now, I’m so relieved and happy for my friend—God has answered her (and my) prayers. She knows her answer now. I’ve always said how good it will feel to look back and be able to say, “Ah yes, this is the journey.” When Terri told me she was pregnant, she said, “I just wasn’t supposed to be pregnant before now. This is the right time.” Well, I hate to say it, but DUH! It’s such a relief to know her timing … and yet, I’m so jealous. So jealous of the answer, the timing, the wait that is now over. The excitement that will begin to grow as the reality settles in. I’m jealous of the morning sickness, the cravings, the sleepless nights. And the guilt is still there too. I feel guilty when I think why her and not me? I’ve been waiting longer! I’ve lost two! I feel guilty when I consider selfishly the change in our friendship. The non-similar experiences. The inevitable awkwardness, since she is and I’m not. I feel guilty. And happy. And jealous. And sorrowful. And so so so tired of crying my eyes out over a friend’s joyous news.
I told Terri that her getting pregnant gives me hope.