I received an email from a fellow Stirrup Queen out there who suggest we discuss the great Infertile Pain Olympics. C’mon, you know what I’m talking about. It’s the one where you compare your infertility to those who stand next to you as sisters in arms. Oh, we know we aren’t supposed to compare. We know it isn’t logical or healthy to compare who has had it worse. Winning the gold medal isn’t going to win you any commercial endorsements, but it will win you added pain and heartache. So, why do we do this?
Last night I was guilty of it myself. One of my oldest blogging “buddies”, Fly is set to give birth any day now. We both commiserated together as we went through cycles and cylces with no luck. She started testing much sooner than we did. I was delayed due to insurance reasons. She got pregnant on her very first IUI. I literally jumped up and down for her. I knew how hard she had had it up to that point, and I knew how thankful she was for the precious gift she received. However, last night I couldn’t help but think, If that had happened for me, I would be five months pregnant now. What a crappy train of thought. This woman obviously deserves to be pregnant. I know how many times she has found her self in tears after a giant negative. I read her emails she sent me when she wanted to just give up. I know beyond a doubt she will be a kick ass mom. Yet I still feel like I got the short end of the stick, and she hit the jackpot. The worst part is I really am truly (as in from the very bottom of my heart) happy for her. I don’t have a problem admitting this, because I know in my heart what an amazing woman she is, how touched I am by having her as a friend, and that my emotions were…dare I say it?….normal.
Perhaps we play this game in part by jealousy, and in part to earn the scars on our heart like stripes on a uniform. It most likely has nothing to do with the other person, and everything to do with us. A self preservation of sorts. There’s no malice in it, but rather a testament to how frustrated we are with our own plight. We’d be lost without our fellow stirrup queens, but yet when they board the pregnancy train, we feel left behind. We are saddened that we can’t go with them. We’re hurt that we are left behind. Will they forget us when their train makes it to Motherhood? Will we ever get to even purchase a ticket to get on the pregnancy train, much less even make it to Motherhood City?
So, here is where I ask you to confess if you too have played in the pain olympics? Perhaps we infertiles who have won’t feel so darn guilty for doing so. So, forgive me for I have committed and infertile sin…
