In the last few days there have been several posts that I've seen, both on other people's blogs, and my personal page that have brought out the angry infertiles. Especially this one. I've even lost a few friends because of my bitterness and anger. As I reread the comments that I, and other people wrote I started to wonder how someone that hasn't walked a mile in these barren shoes of mine would view us. The one thing that stood out to me is how angry and bitter we all sound.
Why is that?
It's because we're walking around with a huge, gaping, bleeding, infected wound that just won't heal. It's so sore and tender. And you won't quit rubbing salt in it.
The worst part is, you don't even know you're touching it, let alone that your hands are covered in salt. You have no idea.
We know that you don't realize that you're doing it. But you not knowing you have salt on your hands doesn't make the burning pain hurt any less. You not realizing that you're touching our wound doesn't mean we don't feel the pain long after you've forgotten our interaction.
We have to walk around every single day with these huge, ugly wounds and pretend that we aren't in near constant agony.
Every day we see your pregnancy announcements.
Every day we see you posting ultrasound pictures.
Every day we listen to you complain about your kids.
Every day we hear another news story about another abused, neglected, or murdered child.
Every day we listen to you tell us to adopt.
Every day we hear you telling us to be patient.
Every day we get the same lecture about God's timing, our age, and how we haven't been trying all that long.
Every day we hear stories of people getting pregnant after years of infertility.
Every day we listen to you tell us what you think we're doing wrong.
Every day we get told to stop trying.
Every day we get asked to hold your newborn because you think it'll make us feel better.
And some days...it's just too much. There are too many of you coming at us in all directions. Poking. Prodding. Rubbing salt in our wounds. Wounds that you can't see. Wounds you don't even know are there. And we just can't. It hurts so bad we just want to scream.
And those screams, they so often come out in harsh, angry words and bitter tears.
It isn't your fault.
We know it isn't your fault.
We're so sorry that we took it out on you.
But it just. Hurts. So. Much.
Some days we just can't keep it together any longer. All the prayers and the tears and the wonderful support you give us get momentarily overlooked while we cry out in pain.
We really are sorry we act this way.
We don't like it either.
We want to rejoice with you.
We want to support you.
And the parts of us that aren't so broken and scarred do.
We are truly happy for you.
But we're also sad for us.
And, unfortunately, that sad tends to escape more often than not.
We're working on it.
We've got the stitches and the antibiotics ready.
But there are so many of you coming at us all at the same time that it's impossible to heal because every time we start to, just a little bit, someone new comes up with their salty hands and aims right at the most tender part of us.