Baby overload

This is by now a cliche complaint. I hear it a lot. I see it a lot. But I have to say it again because I can't stop thinking about it: there are far too many babies around for me to maintain any kind of contentment with my life. Yesterday, e.g. I organized a happy hour for a departing colleague. It was supposed to be several close co-workers, one of whom might bring her 2 month old. I could handle that. One baby, maybe none. Hopefully none. Hopefully her husband would get home in time to babysit while she came out to the bar. But no, the baby came to the bar, as did the new dad. And then another baby and new dad arrived, uninvited. But certainly most welcome. By everyone but me. I secretly despised that he showed up despite having utmost regard for the guy and great admiration for his little one. And I tried to rally but felt so defeated. I almost felt like I was being fake, like I had reverted to my college bar days when I was trying to play it as cool as possible around people without looking like I was trying too hard. It was strange to feel so awkward around people I know so well and even worse was the reminder of the reasons behind the weirdness and the knowledge that they knew what I must be thinking. They had their babies. Their beautiful babies. And I didn't. Mine didn't make it. It is so grossly unfair and they can't help but enjoy their fortuitous lives right in front of my face. They can't help it. What else do I expect them to do? I can't expect them to keep their babies in a cave somewhere and never bring them out or talk about them or show them off to our other friends.

Would I have felt less awkward if I had never told anyone? Maybe. Am I still glad the girls know? On the whole, yes. But all that has happened still taints what should be happy occasions and, I fear, may change our friendships irreparably. Of course, friendships tend to change anyway when one couple in the group has a kid. But now that all of the couples in our lives have kids, we're on the losing end of the changes.

What I particularly hate is when one of the new mothers insists that DH and I should really come over and visit in a more intimate setting, or that I should come over for lunch more often, or to watch the game. Doesn't she know how that stings? Doesn't she know I don't have it in me to want to spend any more time around her happy family than I have to? One reason this all really blows is that i love babies. I think they're adorable and the more I'm around them, the more I know I'll be able to handle it. The more I long to have one in my life. The more excited I become about being a mom. And it's certainly good that I'm having these realizations. But as much as I love and adore each and every baby we know, the love does not stop my heart from aching. It can't overcome the longing, jealousy, self-pity, anger, or frustration. I have to get away from it after an hour or two or I think I might spontaneously burst into tears. I spent the whole evening being 'one of the guys.' Hanging out in the 'singles' crowd - not really singles, but those without kids. There has to be a term for that right? Oh, yeah - it's childless. I hung out with the childlesses. And felt right at home.

I went up to my 6th floor office after the happy hour and happened to look out my window at the street below and the two new moms were strolling their babies down the street, right out my window, perfect view. They just happened to be on that side of the block, within that segment of the sidewalk when I looked down. It was a warm beautiful night and there's not much I wouldn't have given to be with them. Or even to be one of them. And I am not one to wish I was someone else. I like who I am, generally, and sometimes covet what people have, but I don't think I've ever wished my whole person away. But in that moment, I might have given up on myself if it meant I could experience what they must be experiencing. And part of it was not just jealousy over their babies but jealousy over their friendship. Over their new shared experiences, their new bond. I think of myself as closer to both of them than they are to each other. Or at least I was...

There's an annual company bbq coming up next month. The manager made a big deal about children being invited for the first time this year since there have been so many new babies in the group in the past year. I play a key role in summer recruiting and I really should be there. But I can't get my head around wilfully putting myself in that position.

In recent months I've thought - once my beta is negative, I'll have a more positive outlook. I won't be so self-pitying or jealous. I won't have so much anger. I'll have excitement and hope. It is negative, for the moment, and somehow I still can't shake the despair. It has lessened, but I still have so much fear and apprehension at the inevitable challenges before me - no matter what the numbers say, I can't get to where I was pre-BFP. I can't reclaim that optimism and giddy excitement. That innocent hope, free from the dark realities of loss. Free from the understanding of the vast uncertainties that spiral out of control so quickly and mercilessly. I probably never will. My babymaking spirit is doubtless forever dampened. I am happier today than I was a month ago, but it is still so so difficult. And on top of the difficulty, I worry about what my attitude is doing to my friendships, work relationships, marriage, and my own psyche. Maybe it's just that. Maybe I need a change of attitude. Or maybe I just need a break from all the babies.