I’m not going to be that brat


All my life I have felt as if I didn’t quite belong to a certain category. I didn’t fit right in any particular clique in high school or college. I’m too prim to be a party girl but too inhibited to be a straight laced woman. All the while my friends were carving out these specific identities I was just me. I realize now that is how every teenager feels. No one fits in to a certain mold, no one is completely one sided. Every single person in the world is varying shades of neurotic. As my literary soul sister once said;“The whole world was crazy; I’d flattered myself by assuming I was a semifinalist .”

When I got married I felt like I could finally join a club that I belonged to. Sure I was young, but I graduated before I got married, I had a good job and we have a house we own.  I was a married woman and I couldn’t wait to join that exclusive club. The Mommy Club. I had a job once where we would have to pray before every staff meeting. Around mothers day the office manager/wife of the doctor passed out a prayer. She gave it to everyone else but me and simply said,” Sorry, this is for mothers.”

So needless to say, I was ready to join that club. instead I got infertility. Now at this point some people may say,” but Megnacarta, you’re young. You had plenty of time to get pregnant. What does it matter if it took three month or three years?”

My response?

Try it.

Infertility suck. It starts with the worry that it may take longer than you had thought, that maybe there is something wrong with your lady bits. Then maybe there is something wrong with your thinking, (side note, F-U The Secret) Then is there something wrong with you as a woman and a wife. As A person, who are you if you cannot have children. Sound crazy? Yes, I know.

But I get it. For three years I got it.  So this is my letter to those girls out there I vow not to be one of those pregnant woman that women with infertility hate. Because I’ve been there.

I’m going to pass on advice  friend who was going through infertility told me. After trying for five years she finally had a beautiful healthy daughter. As I was looking down into the car seat she shared this with me, “It’s worth it.”

Not, don’t stress out or it will happen eventually or any other banal advice that everyone wants to give you. Simply “It’s worth it.”

In that short sentence she validated every bad day I had ever had. She never tried to say that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was or that if I just stopped thinking about it, I would get pregnant.

I also want to pass on my advice for getting through that time. Don’t suppress it. Lord knows, I felt everything. But I think that is what worked for me. Allow yourself to have bad, don’t want to get out of bed because you might punch that girl who is pregnant yet again, days. The pain you feel is real and don’t allow anyone to tell you otherwise.

Don’t compare yourself to others, whether it be that woman who has no trouble getting pregnant or that annoying woman who said her husband cried when they would get a false pregnancy test. husbands who are that sensitive rarely exist outside a Nicolas Sparks novel and in the end someone will die a horrible death in one of the Carolina’s.

Because in the end, I have faith that it would have all been worth it.


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