A Very Pregnant Lady, a Newborn, 2 Sets of Grandparents, & the Wrong Number

This morning I went to Quest to drop off my urine sample and get blood work taken.  By the way, the 24 hour urine test was rather gross.  I started to gag by the end of it, so I will spare you the details.

I signed in as usual when I arrived.  There were about 10 people in front of me in the waiting room.  As I waited, a family came in with a newborn.  It appeared to possibly be the grandparents with the baby, which was later confirmed through conversation. I started to squirm around in my seat when they came in, playing on my phone, doing anything to try to distract myself.  Then, a random older couple started striking up conversation with the newborn family.

Random older couple, a.k.a. 1st set of grandparents: Aw, look at him! I just love my grandkids! Aren’t they the best?

Family of the newborn a.k.a. 2nd set of grandparents: Yes! He is our first grandchild.  Just amazing!

I was trying so hard not to look at them. Everyone in the room “oohing” and “ahhing.”  On the outside, I am sure I looked like a miserable bitch who probably dislikes children; little does anyone in that room know what I have endured to get me to this point.  The simple, happy, normal conversation between strangers celebrating life now makes me extremely on edge.  If that wasn’t uncomfortable enough for me, what happened next surely was.

A very pregnant woman and what appeared to be her mom signed in.  She sits next to me, and across from the sets of grandparents and the newborn.  She is steadily rubbing her belly.  I am seriously wondering how much longer it will be before they call me, because I know it is only a matter of minutes before her and the newborn family start baby talking.  And of course, it began.

Grandparents 1: When are you due?

Pregnant woman: (says a date; I refused to listen)

Grandparents 2: Is this your first?

Pregnant woman: (laughing) No, my second, but it will be my last!

Pregnant woman’s mom: She has a girl already, but really wanted a boy.  It’s a girl again!

Grandparents 1: (laughing) They say boy sperms don’t swim as fast! (laughing)

Pregnant woman: (laughing more) I know..aren’t there supposed to be remedies for that?

They started making jokes on things you could do to help the sperm, or change the gender , or whatever.  I couldn’t bare to listen.  None of the jokes were true or made any sense by the way.  I was so tempted to look up and blurt something out, tell them how dumb they sounded.  I bit my lip hard.  I felt really angry.  Angry that no one in that place knew about all of the babies I lost.  Angry that pregnant woman had the nerve to be disappointed about the gender.  Angry that people make reproductive jokes, whether their intentions are good or not.  Most of all, I felt disappointed.  Disappointed that no one takes a moment to wonder what the other people in the waiting room could be going through. 

Maybe I am overreacting. Most likely I am.  But that’s OK though, I don’t care. I am allowed to have my days. 

I can say and have said that in some ways infertility and RPL have changed me for the better.  For example, not one situation goes by in my life now where I don’t project myself into the possible situation another person around me could be experiencing.  I am always thinking about what they could be going through.  When my husband comes home and complains about someone at work, the first words out of my mouth are, “be kind, you don’t know what he may be dealing with right now.”  I would have never said that 5 years ago.

Not too long ago, someone called me from a number I did not recognize.  I called it back and long story short, she kept calling me back, thinking I had called her when she really called me, and she thought I was quote, “messing with her man.”  I had no idea who this lady or man were.  She was cursing me out, screaming at me, threatening to beat me up, etc.  I never got impatient with the lady calling.  I kept telling her I would pray for her, and I was sorry she was going through what she was going through.  I was with one of my girl friends while all this was happening who said to me, “you are being way too nice to her…why???”

The truth is I felt so bad for her.  She obviously was dealing with something horrible in her life.  And I know how it feels to go through something really terrible.  I know how I want people to treat me.  However, I do wish for one moment she would have thought about what I might be going through, but she never did.  Nor did the people in the waiting room.  The world would be such a better place if people did wouldn’t it?