I have had my fair share of weak moments during our infertile-ness. But for the most part, I manage to keep it together. I get a little sad and queasy when I hear about new babies and people sharing ultrasound photos and telling about the life-altering experiences they’ve shared with their spouse in the delivery room. But ultimately, I don’t come unhinged.
Except at baby showers.
Those are doozies. I don’t know about you, but they kill me. Grab hold of my heart and just wrench. This spring I’ve attended several baby showers (and hosted one) and I’ve had to walk out in the middle of each to cry myself into hysterics. Nothing looks more pathetic than sitting in the middle of a stranger’s bathroom floor with rivers of mascara flowing down your face and wads of toilet paper in your hands because “mommy-to-be” just opened the hand-stitched, monogrammed baby blanket from great grandma.
It of course has nothing to do with the guest of honor and everything to do with my curiosity if those painfully special moments will ever happen for me too? People ask me how I handle it, if I get jealous, if it sucks being at showers… Answers are Quietly/Of course/Sometimes.
What doesn’t bother me, is being around new babies. I could drink up their wonder all day long. But there is something about the atmosphere of a shower that will bring me to my knees.
I love and adore each of the women I have been to a shower for. Our closest friends have been poppin’ out babies all year long – so it gets a little easier with each one. And I’m enjoying the snuggly-wugglies from all of these beautiful little babies.