Gettin' Kicked out of the Club

Being part of an infertility group is great, except for one thing--when it works, you get kicked out.

It make sense. I mean, if you're in the middle of a treatment, or dealing with a failed one, it's hard to hear and see the success of others. Women struggling with infertility get it. It may sound callous but we understand it's self-protective; that while we see the line between you and me, the line is a thin veneer, sometimes almost indistinguishable. The flood of your positive emotions can bring a flood of my own, and those emotions can be ugly or sad or raw.

The problem is, relationships are personal. If you are really start to have a friendship with someone, you don't want to just cut it off. They're not in your club anymore, but they don't get kicked out of your heart.

I have a good friend who has succeeded in her journey to pregnancy. I miss her in the infertility group. But she's still my friend, and I feel lucky to have her. I know for her, the uncertain journey to parenthood has its own challenges, just as the uncertain journey to pregnancy did. I know it's a tough road, made tougher by the fears infertility instills. So I hope that even though she can't be part of the infertility club, I can still support her as my friend.

And that reminds of the "Mommy Club," because this person is the same one who introduced me to the concept. And I feel no fear of losing her to it. Sure, I know she may get obsessed with burpies and onesies and God knows what else that I don't get. It's normal. I get playgroups and mom support groups. They make sense. My sense of loss has nothing to do with the recognition that moms need support from one another, and need to share the unique experience of parenthood with each other.

What doesn't make sense is to stop relating to someone because what they experience is different from what you experience. THAT is what makes life richer, right? You're a mom, I'm not--you've got perspective I don't. I'm infertile, you're not--that has perspective too. It doesn't mean you don't care about me now, that you don't share with me or listen to me, that you only promise the hope of some kind of relationship if I'm ever like you. Because maybe I never will be.

So the benefit of a friend who has done it and gotten to the other side is that she sees both sides. She knows what it feels like to be where I am, and she knows the challenges of being where she is. Sharing both of that is what convinces me that a good mom can also be a good friend. Seems kinda serious if we're supposed to be laughing, I guess--but it makes me happy to think about what else she'll teach me; what else we'll share.