I am an infertile. I am pregnant. I was an infertile first and will always be an infertile.
Being a pregnant infertile (PIF) is hard because you really don’t fit in except with other PIFs.
I can think of very few things I have in common with the average pregnant fertile (PF) except, of course, the baby growing in my uterus.
I have a lot in common with other IFs, but I know that hearing about my pregnancy might be hard for them, I know because I’ve been there and done that. I’ve smiled genuine smiles and then cried genuine tears.
Being an IF and hearing that another IF has come out the other side is a very confusing experience. You’re so happy for them. You’re so sad for you. You feel hopeful because they’ve succeeded. You feel like the only one who hasn’t succeeded.
Being a PIF is equally as confusing. You’re so happy for you. You’re so sad for your friends. You want to jump up and down with excitement. You want to hide until the baby is born because you’ve heard too many stories of miscarriages. You are finally pregnant. You no longer fit in. You make the IFs you love sad and the PFs just don’t get you.
I promised myself when I got here I would enjoy every minute. I promised I wouldn’t let survivor’s guilt bring me down. Sometimes I feel like I’m succeeding, sometimes I feel like I’m failing.