Let’s Play Ask the Infertile

A co-worker of mine had her baby last week. She and I have worked together for a few years now, and we’ve become good friends. I’m happy for her, but being faced with her pregnancy day in and day out for most of this year has been painful for me, and she gets that.

Apparently the rest of my co-workers, not so much. It’s an office of mostly women, and I couldn’t keep the infertility stuff secret even if I tried, which I haven’t. I’ve chosen to be open about it, to be honest about it, in hopes that sharing the experience will help erase some of the stigma that comes along with the diagnosis.

So they know about all the painful test results, all the failed cycles. The miscarriage. The adoption that went bust a couple months ago when the birth mom changed her mind after the baby was born. They know that R and I have had to drag ourselves up off the ground after that latest blow, and that somehow this time it feels even worse than all the other heartbreaks we’ve had. That something inside us didn’t just crack when the adoption failed, that it broke. In a sharp, jagged way that will leave us never the same.

And yet, who do my co-workers call to ask all the specifics about the new baby in our office? Yep, you guessed it. Who else do they think would want to talk in great detail about how much the baby weighed, what time he was born, what his name is, how adorable it is and how wonderful that she’ll be at home with him for the next three months?

The resident office infertile, of course.