Shoot that poison arrow in my heel

Like most people dealing with a long-term problem, I have good days and I have bad days.

Today was definitely a bad day.

I don't want to sound like a big whiner. I think, for the most part, I have thus far been a real little super trooper about a lot of this fucking bullshit.  I've put up with all the crap infertility dishes out- blood tests, invasive procedures, endless doctor's appointments, uncertainty, stress on my relationship, disappointment month after month, constant assvice and stupid comments, financial worries.  And apart from the very occasional meltdown, I have somehow on carried on functioning (more or less) as a relatively upbeat little person.

Today, however, I encountered what appears to be my ultimate Achilles heel.  And that is, simply, babies in the office. This is the second time this month this has happened, and I have discovered that my reaction to these types of visitations is an almost immediate Pavlovian breakdown. 

Today was the day my colleague (the one for whom I was also somehow specially picked to present with a "going-on-maternity-leave" parting gift) came in to the office with her beautiful 8 week old baby.  This is her second child in the space of the two years that I have been trying.  All of a sudden, there she was standing beside my desk with the pram, unannounced.

I attempted to staple on the Big Smile, give the obligatory nods and coos, while everybody in the room suddenly flocked around us. The baby gave a little shift, opening her tiny pink rosebud mouth to gurgle.

And then all of a sudden, I simply couldn't breathe.  One of my team looked over, saw my face, and mouthed, "Are you OK?"   Well, no, actually.  No, I was not OK. 

I don't even know how I got out of there, walking quickly to the sanctuary of the ladies' bathroom, where I barricaded myself in one of the stalls, cramming my fist in my mouth as I cried. Cried big, wet, sloppy tears. Someone came in while I was in there, trippy trapping over my bridge in their little goat heels.  Then they stood in front of the mirror, doing God knows what for what seemed half an hour- from my side of the cubicle wall, it sounded like they were giving themselves a home perm. I was trapped, but I didn't care, because I wasn't really planning on going anywhere for the next 8 hours. 

I ended up staying there until the colleague who had asked if I was OK eventually came in to find me, and to ask if there was anything she could do.  Fortunately, she was unfazed by the sight of my torn and bleeding heart lying, still thumping weakly, on the tiles.  She happily volunteered to go call a medivac and to retrieve my handbag, the latter being slightly more important, since it contains my "Emergency Infertility Crying Makeup Repair Kit".  Powder, check.  Blush, just a tiny bit, since I was already prettily flushed with weeping.  Eyeliner- essential to disguise those unsightly smudges. Lipstick- turn that frown upside down!

"The coast is clear now," my team member reported, "they have all gone for coffee."  Just outside the door, I heard the distant cry of a very small baby.

I stayed in the bathroom a little while longer.

I realised, as I carried on trying to spackle my face back into a presentable state, that I don't think there is any big insight to be gained from all of this. It's simple, really. Like most people who long for something which is seemingly unobtainable, I just don't do so great when that which I cannot have is proudly paraded right in front of me. 

Finally, I slunk back to my desk, a few stray entrails dangling behind me. Then I sat, trying to hold it together, but really just staring out of the window, at nothing. With a Herculean effort, I resumed my work. 

But there remained a large and jagged rift in the seam of my day, and I never did quite manage to mend it.

Comments

[alex]

Sorry about that Mare..as God as my witness I shall never parade my baby around in the possiblility of an infertile amongst the parades audience...I solemnly swear upon my blog's life.

[Kate]

I am so sorry. I know how hard that can be. At least you didn't yell at missionaries...but that's a story for another day.

[ovagirl]

Horrible horrible scene. You poor thing, as you described it I could see it all happening and feel the uncontrollable despair. Fuck it's hard. We try and keep the happy baby face for public viewing - particularly for work colleagues and friends, particularly when we are trapped amongst a crowd of other genuinely delighted cooing people. Sometimes it just slips and there is nothing you can do.
I was glad that amongst the group there was ONE sensitive person who was able to give you some support. I wish you had been out of the office when the baby was brought in so you could have just popped your head in the room, smiled and waved and then gone to photocopy something urgent.
So sorry.

[JJ]

Oh Sweetness! Creepy internet hugs, and big sloppy kisses.

[Yellowgirl]

Long time lurker, but had to post, as I can relate! The bathroom stall has been a staple refuge for me on occassions. One other trick I discovered, we have little one-use mustard packets in the kitchen at work. I've been known to suck one down by itself (and we are talking YELLOW mustard). The action diverts me from crying for a few minutes, as I deal with the vinegary taste!

[InSpring]

I know the feeling, I'm sorry you had to go through that.

[Kathy Napolitano]

Remembering that feeling and crying along with you. Glad you had someone with a brain that could bring you your plaster kit to help you at least try to escape without having to deal with all the stares and what's up with her looks. Yep recently got to help a 24 y/o single mother take care of a newborn for 10 days while in the midst of a m/c. It sucks.

[Sandy]

Oh gawd ... I was in that stall right with you. Been there. Bought and so damned tired of wearing the t-shirt. I agree that you have been a trouper, which if you're like me, made it even more painful to lose it. Sorry you had to experience this.

[zarqa]

The scene sounds so familiar. People are parading babies seemingly all the time around here. I can smile at them these days but eventually you just have the leave the area. I too am glad you had at least one sympathetic person among the coo-ers.

[Amanda]

I'm so sorry, Mare. This crap sucks beyond belief.

[Meg]

Mare I'm so sorry that you were ambushed liked that. I know IF sucks so bably. Look after yourself, can you take a sickie fom work?

[Sara in London]

So, so sorry you had to go through that - as if life isn't hard enough.

Be very kind to yourself.

*hug*
sara xx

[milly]

Delurking to agree that it's just so awful. With me at the moment it just seems to be streams of people announcing pregnancies with me smiling weakly and then making a rush for the nearest lockable facility to cry my heart out. Things have got so bad I've even stopped wearing mascara. Here's hoping things look up for us both (all) soon.

[Danielle]

Waterproof mascara has been a lifesaver for me. I also have a "put myself back together" kit complete with washcloth. It sucks completely when people bring their kids to the office. I think it sucks even more when people bring their kids to the RE's office. I had that experience the last 2 times I went for early morning monitoring. The gall of people amazes me.

Good job for hanging in there. Keep trooping on.

[susie]

I think for many of us, work is our safe place. It's the place where we're capable, adult, and in control, unlike the way we feel when faced with what infertility puts us through. Maybe we even let our guards down a little bit.

Which may be why it's so horrible and unbearable to be confronted with it, even in the safe place where people see you as a professional rather than childless. And the surprise factor must have made it even harder.

I'm so sorry.

[Kristin]

Oh honey...I am so sorry. Big hugs.

[wessel]

Ugh. I'm so sorry. It sounds like you have at least one co-worker who is in your corner, though. And look at it this way: the day is now OVER.

[Anna H.]

Oh, Mare, that's just awful. I wish I could have been there with you -- I would have sat crying in the next stall over all day, if needed. I'm really glad you have a co-worker who gets it and has your back; it just sucks that you were ambushed in that way and she couldn't send up the flares and start the sirens before the baby got to your desk.

There's nothing to say except that it hurts so much and I'm sorry.

Love to you, dear Mare.

xxoo

[Pamplemousse]

Ugh, I hate that happening! I am lucky to work in an office where I am the youngest and everyone else is at least menopausal. I have to listen to the kid talk but that is never as bad as the newborn in the face.

You have been a trouper and I know you will rise above this too. You were taken by surprise and that is just not polite. Take care and rest up tonight.

[sweetisu]

Sorry it was so hard. Some days just sucks more than others. I'm glad someone got your back at work and you did well.

To Danielle up above, I don't know those people's stories who bring kids to the RE's office. But it may be likely that they are having secondary infertility issues..

[LEB]

BM can I send you virtual cotton wool & bubble wrap to wrap you up in - there are times when we all need some protection.

I think waterproof mascara should be handed out with any IF diagnosis.

Much sympathy from the other end of the country.

[Emily]

Thinking of you my dear. Ah yes, the bathroom stall -- I honestly thought a plaque in my honor might be right since I spent so much time hiding in there. Now I work in a home based business and there are NO PREGNANT people -- ANYWHERE.

[Heidi]

Oh Mare,I am so sorry. I totally understand this because I have been in that stall too. Many times. You should really market that infertility make-up spackle set. I think it would be a big seller.

Hugs to you..

[Sarah]

I, too, am very sorry; and can sympathize. It's those surprise moments that sneak up on you that really make you feel like the whole world is out to make you feel like crap. I've started carrying eyedrops in my purse ... but it's meager comfort.

[Mac]

Just delurking to say I know how you feel and hope that today goes much better for you. Personally I had to leave work early yesterday when someone (who irritated me immensely even before they announced their pregnancy 2 seconds after finding out) brought in their baby again. They've been doing this every few weeks since the birth (December) and I can't stand it :(