Clearly I have had a crappy, emotional week. This bfn hit me really hard. Really hard. I fell into the pit and have stayed there for days. Then yesterday, things got a lot worse.
A couple of months ago, I emailed a good friend from college to tell her about my miscarriage. She was one of my bridesmaids, and despite the fact that we talk only once every couple of months, we are pretty close. She lives across the country from me, so we don’t get to see each other often. Her baby just turned one year old and I’ve never met him. I emailed her because I wanted her to know what was going on without having to talk about it just yet. The email got returned to me because her inbox was full, so she never got it.
She called a couple weeks ago. I was going to call her back, but I wanted to wait until after the 2ww. I was hoping that I’d have good news to give along with the news of the miscarriage. Clearly that did not happen. Yesterday she called again and caught me. I spent the first few minutes of our conversation telling her about the miscarriage, how it happened right before Christmas, and how much it sucked. She doesn’t know about our infertility, but I did tell her that we had been “trying” for 6 months and finally got pregnant only to lose it. I went on and on about how shitty it was to keep getting people’s Christmas cards and holiday newsletters with a gazillion pregnancy announcements and pictures of new babies while I was still bleeding from the miscarriage. I believe I even used the phrase “pregnant assholes”. She’s the kind of friend that I can vent like that too.
Then, kind of as a joke, I said “But, you know, if you get pregnant again, don’t feel like you can’t tell me or anything.”
Me: Are you? (in my head thinking there’s no way, she JUST had a baby exactly a year ago. She can’t be pregnant again ALREADY!)
Me: No……. Seriously? (in my head thinking it’s just mean to fuck with me like that)
Her: Gosh I feel like such a jerk telling you now….
And then I had to somehow pull it together and not cry. Then I had to comfort her for feeling like an asshole for telling me. Somehow I choked out that I was nothing but happy for her.
Then I asked what her due date was.
It’s a week after mine would have been if that pregnancy had been viable.
Then, as if she heard nothing about how much my miscarriage sucked, and how depressed I am, she continues to tell me about this pregnancy. How tired she is. How hard it is having a 13 month old and being 16 weeks pregnant. How she’s already gained 10 pounds. How she thinks it’s another boy, but they’ll find out in two weeks. On and on. I must have done such a good job comforting her that she felt like she could keep talking about her pregnancy and how they both happened – yes – on the first try! Oh great! How wonderful for her!
I started drinking. By the time S came home from work, my face was delightfully numb. Today I can almost laugh about how absurdly, comically awful it was. Almost.
Tomorrow I’ll report about my WTF appointment with the RE.