We all have it. We all know it. Facebook. The new way to connect with the outside world. Social media. Where all my "friend's" are.
Since we have been dealing with infertility, facebook has the power to act as a bullet to the chest and then the power to fill me with guilt. Allow me to elaborate:
But, when I got engaged, I kind of forgot about all that and I kind of forgot about all the "facebook pain" I had suffered. And what did I do? Posted pics of my fat engagement ring. Posted songs for our wedding. Declared my undying love for Darren. While, in the meantime, single girls may have been logged on despising me or even just feeling like "love" was thrown in their face. I don't think I did anything wrong, but I simply forgotten how people on the other end felt.
So fast forward to almost 3 years since our wedding date. I'm high on fertility drugs. Pumped with them. My ovaries are obese. Although the side effects aren't awful, they still are rough. When I sit down, my stomach kills because its sore from the 30+ injections it's gotten. We want a baby so bad, we are paying a huge chunk of our salaries, a huge chunk of our emotions, and risking my body to carry this child. I cannot express how painful some facebook "pregnancy announcements" cause me. I feel no hate or anger towards the pregnant moms, I just feel so deeply reminded that I AM NOT pregnant. And it hurts.
Don't get me wrong, they are innocent and excited. Can I really be sad about seeing a growing tummy picture that you take of yourself in the mirror show up on my laptop? No. Can I really be angry when you and your husband announce the bump in a cute/clever way? No. That's where I get mad too because I instantly realize I'm hurt/sad/reminded for no valid reason and then feel guilty, when all I really wanted to do was see if anyone commented on my status in the first place ;)
I'm in a vulnerable spot and need to realize that. I recognize that I'm more sensitive to baby chatter online. I usually just "hide" someone when I find out they are pregnant, to avoid myself the pain that comes with the reminder of each update that I am not. The soreness in my stomach is nothing compared to the ache in my heart for my own child.
I'm not sure what I will do if/when I get pregnant. It almost seems weird not to announce it via social media once, but this time around, I'm aware of those secret sufferers. I'll probably just say something like "After 2 years of trying to get pregnant, 8 failed artificial insemination's, 20k, and IVF, Darren and I are expecting our first miracle." I'm not going to paint a pretty picture. This has been ugly, and hard, and uphill. Maybe when I go "public" with our struggles, I can gain a voice for those of us fighting infertility and create awareness.