The peaks and the valleys

As I'm sure I've said a million times on here before, this infertility walk, like all things in life, definitely comes with its share of highs and lows. Obviously, the lows are both more frequent and more prominent, and today seems like one of those days.

I'd been doing so well, what with all the distractions of the house and the impending start of school - I didn't really have much time to think about infertility, babies, barrenness, etc. Even the passing of our miscarriage anniversary wasn't as hugely monumental and emotional as I had thought it would be (speaking in relative terms, anyway). But then, for some reason, life just starts punching you and reminding you of those old, unhealed bruises...and you're once again made aware of how brutal this reality is. This weekend, reality hit me again...hard.

First, on Friday, I get an email from a longtime (since elementary school) friend whom I haven't heard from since Christmas or so. I had been trying to send her emails for a while now, but she had gotten her address changed. Finally, I received something from her in the mail this week, which had been sent to our old address & forwarded to where we are now. It had her new email address on it, so I wrote to see how she was. She had told me last time I had talked to her that they were trying for #2...and now apparently they're still trying and have found out just how much of a miracle baby #1 was. Apparently, her DH has a prostate infection (which is now being treated) and she isn't ovulating, so they're off to the clomid route very shortly.

And this is where the old (back in the day) Teri meets the new (bitter, cynical, infertile) Teri. Part of me wants to hug and kiss this dear, sweet girl because I, too, know the heartache that she's feeling. To try and try and try to do what is supposedly so natural, but to no avail. And she is, after all, a dear friend. But then, there's the other part of me. The part of me that just thinks about me...about how she's got a beautiful almost 3-year-old to love, cuddle, nurture and mother...and distract her from what would otherwise be a horribly painful reality. And I hear her say things to me like, "It is so hard to accept, but I am seeing more and more that there really is a reason for everything and that it will all happen in HIS time! He continues to try and teach me patience... maybe someday I will learn!" and "I think X delayed telling me that she was pregnant for fear of hurting my feelings. Nonsense... I am happy for them and have FINALLY accepted that I will feel that joy someday... it just isn't our turn right now." and I realize that even secondary infertility can't make her understand my pain, my hurt, my anger....my reality of knowing that I may never, ever, have my own flesh and blood; our flesh and blood. Because she HAS already experienced that joy that she's talking about feeling "someday". Yes, I'm envious, selfish and broken. So sue me.

Then, today, I get a voice mail on my cell from my best friend whom I haven't talked to in months. I haven't called back yet, but after using my best CSI skills, I have put two and two together: "We have lots of new, exciting news to share with you!" + about a million "congrats" on her facebook + her telling me last year that they would probably start TTC around this time a year from now = they're pregnant. I haven't gotten up the nerve to call her back yet. How do I get her to understand that even though I'll sound devastated, and I'll have to bite my lip and swallow back the tears, but still I'll truly be happy for her. I mean, I don't expect her to continue being married to her wonderful husband and not want the same things that most other human beings want...to be able to nurture and see a reflection of your love staring you back in the face...but at the same time, it hurts. It sucks. It's not fair. And I covet what she has...what seems to come so easily to everyone but me.

Yes, my friends...this is definitely one of those valleys...