Before I start, this is not me looking for sympathy. My partner and I are not that far along in our own fertility journey. We haven't spent years or thousands of dollars trying to have a baby... yet *touches nearest wood*.
What I am trying to do is express my fury sparked from baby making at a very unexpected outlet: my girlfriends with babies.
Some background before I explain my anger: I'm mid thirties, have a lovely partner and live a healthy-ish lifestyle. I've stopped drinking and I've started taking the folic acid daily, tracking my ovulation, doing the gene testing and taking so many pregnancy or ovulation test, that to not pee on a stick is a real rarity.
I'm doing all of those things, but nothing. And it's been months of nothing.
And with this nothing, a teeny bit of resentment builds. Cue my rage.
But why am I so angry? Well, until we started this monthly escapade, I genuinely didn't know that you have the best chance of getting pregnant in just eight hours a month.
Eight hours?! Yup. I was shocked.
Following on from my revelation that you could simply sleep through your window each month, I did a little math and realised that there are 736 hours available in a month to stress about those precious eight. But hey, you get to do all of the wonderful things I listed previously. That's a hell of a lot of wees.
And so I started to feel quite cranky with my girlfriends.
Watch: If only we could be in our baby's head for a day... Post continues below.
Not all of them obviously, shout out to the ones tracking, testing and sexing around the clock, but this is to the ones who have children already.
Now this might sound a lot like jealously, ok I'll admit it's probably a 70/30 split, but I'm furious. Specifically, I'm mad with them for not sharing their own experiences when they were peak baby-making.
They too would have gone through this and, for some weird reason, it's still a topic in my group we keep a little bit more private than others. So after my initial shock of the eight-hour thing, the second 'woah; moment is that a lot of people I really love in my life have gone through this already.
The only thing I can compare this awkwardness to is — now hear me out — grief.
When you lose someone, it's a weird time. You feel like you're in a cycle of feelings. No one really wants to ask. No one wants to accidentally upset you or cause more hurt. But like then, and just like now, I really want to talk about it.
I want to talk about all this effort, upset, hope and disappointment that comes with that monthly cycle. I want to talk about the fact that all of us choosing to have children have likely gone through this. And I want to laugh hard at my lack of knowledge of those precious eight hours.
In hindsight, it seems I'm not angry with my girlfriends, I'm angry that I was a terrible friend. I wish I'd known what to ask. I wish I'd been able to help them more. Provide some comforting words. But in my defence, I didn't know then what I do now.
So how do I get over this? We talk. I tell people that my partner and I are excited, full of dreams and hopefully can become parents in the near future. I also tell people we're bored, disappointed and sometimes a little over it.
I ask my friends directly how they're doing. This is tricky (remember the grief awkwardness thingy?) I've made a fair few cry (I’m really sorry for that) but I've also made some laugh, usually at my sheer disbelief of the stakes of one tiny egg. People squirm, goodness yes, but I’ve opened up and in turn friends have shared their own experiences, for that I'm truly grateful.
Ultimately, everyone going through this most likely feels this at some point.
I just want my nearest and dearest to know I'm here or all of those 736 — plus eight — hours.
Feature Image: Supplied.
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