I had a minor freak out last night. I've actually been really good for a while*, so I am allowing myself that freak out without getting too mad about it. I went to a movie with a friend, and she took her adorable baby son. She nursed him during the movie and his little kicking legs and those sweet snuffling sounds babies make while nursing just totally got to me. I WANT ONE. I want one SO BAD. I can't even explain it, but you other DBMs or couples suffering from infertility, you know what I mean. The want and desire for a baby took my breath away. Even if we got pregnant right away when we are cleared to start trying again (hopefully in July or August), it would mean I wouldn't have a baby until May...and in May, I should have had an 8 month old. Thoughts like that are so frustrating! I mean, if I hadn't gotten pregnant when I did, we could easily still be trying and it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Right? But I did and I was and but but but. Those "buts" will be the death of me!
*The last time I got upset was over Memorial Day weekend. A couple weeks after we lost Caleb, a mutual friend [we'll call her Jane] let me know that another friend of ours [we'll call her Sally] was pregnant, because Jane didn't want me to be blindsided when Sally made her announcement. Sally decided to spill the beans at a party they were having. I had a feeling they were going to do that, so I skipped the party. Not only for my benefit, but because I didn't want the excitement or joy anyone at the party felt over the news to be tempered by my presence. Soon after I saw that congratulations started to arrive at Sally's Facebook page (dude, Facebook is seriously the devil for a DBM). I was a little irritated that Sally had never taken the time to tell me in person, but assumed Jane had told Sally that I knew [follow that??]. A few days later I saw Jane and asked her if she told Sally about telling me, and she said no, she hadn't. Not only that, but Jane specifically advised Sally that she should make sure to tell me before telling everyone else, and no matter how she did it - whether it was email, phone, taking me out to lunch - it didn't matter as long as she TOLD me. However, Sally didn't. She left me to find out (as far as she knew) on Facebook. And that's just.....that's just cold. I was hurt and offended and a little shocked. Initially I had written it off as Sally just not knowing what to do, but to be told to let me know and still not do it? That's just insensitive. I've refrained from writing Sally a note to tell her how horrible it made me feel, because I'd have to out Jane in the process, but I want to. I've written her notes in my head, though...sent with a flaming bag of dog poop.
**Whoops. My postscript is longer than my actual post. Apparently I had things I needed to get off my chest. Ahem.