One of my best friends from high school is an ob/gyn in South Carolina. She has been amazing throughout this entire process - she patiently answers any and all questions that I have, and she does so as both a doctor and as a friend.
The last thing I want to do is make anyone's eyes glass over from an abundance of technical terms or an overuse of abbreviated terms without explanation. Helen has helped me manuever through the minefield of infertility, and I couldn't be more grateful to her for doing so.
In the last few months, I haven't called her. I got to see her, her husband, and their son a few months ago, and we had a great time. We didn't talk about infertility. I'm ashamed to say it's because I resent her. I resent her because she's currently pregnant with her second child.
31 and unable to conceive is a bizarre state of being. I can honestly say that I am truly happy for my friends who get pregnant and give birth to healthy babies. At the very same time, each pregnancy announcement, each gender reveal, and each birth makes me incredibly sad.
And that's why I am having a hard time calling Helen right now. I'm so excited for her. But at the same time, I'm jealous. And I hate that.
No comments:
Post a Comment