For the fun of comparison, I figured I'd dig up some pics from around the same point in each of my pregnancies. This is 37 weeks-ish with each of the kiddos.
Top left is Levi. Bottom left is Kayden. Right side is baby #3. I think I look pretty similar in all of them, though I think the doctor has had my dates a bit different with each of them so according to my dates - which I'm quite sure are fairly accurate - I'm about 2 weeks further along in the Levi picture, even though according to the doctor I was 37 weeks in each pic. But that's beside the point!
So, we all know that there are certain things you should never say to a pregnant lady. Things like:
"Are you sure you're only having one?"
"You look ready to pop!"
"You look so tired..."
Well, I have had another question asked more than once (yes, multiple times by multiple STRANGERS) that should be way off anyone's list of "appropriate conversation topics." See, I'm usually pretty forgiving when people say silly things. Most people open their mouth before they think or make an honest mistake ("oh, your boys are so cute!" when really I have one of each). No worries. It doesn't phase me! But when you - get this - start asking me how tall I am (do you want my current weight too?) and whether I was able to deliver naturally or if I needed c-sections? Off limits, people. You can just let your curiosity burn if you must but please don't ask me details of how I birthed my children within minutes of "meeting" me in the grocery store. Let's just not go there, ok? Thanks. (Did I mention this has happened multiple times over the past few years? More than once, people!! How?!)
Anyway, moving on...
I'm finding pregnancy #3 to be really different from the first two. It's no secret that it's been different physically for me. But also mentally it's been different. The way I feel about our infertility journey has been different. With our first, after trying for over 3 years, I rejoiced openly, feeling like I had somehow earned the right to celebrate. After all, I had suffered and cried and fought and prayed for this baby! Infertility was still fresh on my heart and I was healing from our wounds as I was carrying Levi. Infertility was still very real and that pregnancy was full of emotion! Then we got pregnant with Kayden after only 8 months of trying and I had a few years between me and infertility. I still felt unbelievably grateful for her little life growing inside (obviously) but I also felt a little more guilty in sharing my excitement because I knew that so many other people I knew had been trying so much longer and were still waiting. And then we got pregnant with #3 after 9 months of trying and I feel now like I have no voice to speak to those who are hurting and struggling with infertility. When I was in the midst of infertility, I felt like once people had kids, they forgot the pain of infertility and could no longer identify with me in my struggle and pain. And to an extent I find that to be true. I am definitely not in the place that I was when I was pregnant with Levi. I hope that I am still sensitive and I remember the pain, but I don't FEEL the pain anymore so it's hard to remember the details of what exactly I needed from others and what people said that hurt or helped. I remember that the days ached and that I hurt with every fibre of my being. But it has been so long now that I can't actually feel those feelings anymore. And that makes me nervous that I won't be as sensitive as I should be around friends who are still waiting. Maybe I'll say the wrong thing or talk about my kids too much or mention the struggle of motherhood without sounding grateful enough that I have the opportunity to experience this struggle. It's a weird place to be in. Infertility is still a huge part of my story, and yet I feel like it has faded so much. We chose to keep this pregnancy off of Facebook because I remember how hard it was to be scrolling through the news feed and see pictures of growing bellies and hear complaints of discomfort and sickness. It felt like I had no escape from the world of baby bellies around me and like those who didn't struggle to get pregnant had no right to complain. And I didn't want to contribute to that for my friends who are still waiting for their miracles. It's a strange balance to find. Friends who are still waiting, I know that I'm in a very different place than you are and I don't fully remember what it was like to be where you are. But I do remember that it was the hardest thing and I desire to be sensitive and to support you in your journey. Please be open and honest so I can walk your journeys with you and remember what I've been through so I can better support you who are still waiting.
