This post was written with a specific online baby type forum blog thingy in mind. I submitted it for consideration. I felt that a lot of attempted baby making people would get a laugh out of it. Apparently the piece was not upbeat enough. Perhaps you can feel the resentment, frustration and general annoyance come through it. Too bad. I thought it was funny. What do you think…?
I don’t know what it is but something happens when the world finds out that you are an extended trying to conceive that makes the whole thing kind of weird. You know, weirder than it already was with its legs in the air, mucus testing, temperature taking, hormone increasing, position describing conversation.
Sometimes well meaning people place a strange protective, bubble wrap type, force field between me and babies, between me and children and even between me and the pee test aisle… And while I know on some level they are protecting my obviously fragile feelings, I don’t get why. I’m not a raving loony. I promise. Supermarkets are for everyone. And I’m smart enough to know what you’re doing and it’s embarrassing to play along.
So I cried once in public after finding out that someone who wasn’t trying to fall pregnant just fell pregnant with their fourth child. I blame that on frustration. And believe me, it won’t happen again! Mostly I’m sane. I mean really… Wouldn’t you cry too if it were you? I liken it to watching a rich guy win lotto. It feels unfair and kinda mean.
Despite this, just so you know, I can be trusted with good news. I am not completely absorbed in myself that I cannot be happy for you. Promise. In fact it just proves a little bit more each time that it happens. It really, really happens. There is hope in that for me. Someday, [probably, I too will get to shout to the world that I am having a baby. One of my very own. So share the good news with me. Please.
Can I also request that you recall that I have other things in my life. I would love to have a baby. Obviously. But I am healthy, happy and a productive member of society. I am doing great. My life, in fact, rocks. So might I ask you not to do that face that you do when I talk about my life. The one that says to me Oh, sweetie, good on you, keep yourself busy. I’m not keeping myself busy! Gosh. This IS my life and I’m just going on about living it.
And please trust me. You can invite me to a baby shower without a risk of me face planting into the baby shaped cake with streams of tears dashing the mascara across my face. I can totally be trusted with baked goods. Promise. I also promise not to jump off the veranda, glare at pregnant women or attempt to run off with other peoples small children. Ever. And that is an iron clad promise.
Do I need to tell you that there are women and couples like me everywhere? At varying stages of waiting, planning, trying, succeeding. And there some sort of safety in that number. There is a turning to each other for support and camaraderie amongst them. And we are not crazy or unbalanced or totally wrecks (mostly). We would like to have a baby. And don’t have one. That’s it. I can totally be trusted in every day society.
Promise!
Suger 
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