Grouchy
May 26, 2009 at 11:15 am 5 comments
I’ve got a case of the grouchies. It was bound to happen sooner or later I suppose. This particular case of the grouchies was triggered by something else that falls into the innevitable category… meeting my friend the man-whore’s baby mama.
We went to the potluck knowing she would probably be there. And to her credit she seems like a lovely person, and she and man-whore seem very happy together and excited about the pending bundle of joy.
But my goodness, the freaking bump cooing never stopped. And it is barely a freakin’ bump at that. I could look the same way if I didn’t suck in my gut and ate a cheeseburger. And everyone participated in the bump cooing, not just the father to be. Except super-husband and I who just stood around awkwardly whenever a new bump-cooing session would begin.
Then, our friend the man-whore turned to us and asked the question: “So, when are you two going to have babies?” Because, you know, it is going to be so lame when he is the only one in our group with one. The first. The one paving the way. Got to insure that someone is going to follow up with another one so he doesn’t turn outcast.
Super-husband (bless him) grabbed the ball and ran with it, “Actually, we are waiting on one to arrive in the mail any day now.”
To which he received the response from a potluck attendee we didn’t really know, “the wonders of modern science, eh? ” and husband said “anyone have a spare 20 grand lying around?” There were laughs all around and the conversation shifted and I am pretty sure that none of them still have ANY kind of clue that we were doing anything other then make a joke. Because then man-whore cornered me and spent 10 minutes gushing about how their first ultrasound was on Thursday and he was just so EXCITED to see the BABY.
Bleh. And I wonder if any one there ever took the second to think that we were the ONLY married couple in attendence, and we have been married for SEVEN years and gee, do you think we maybe had actually given the whole baby making thing a go by now?
And so this morning I am mostly just feeling bitter and barren and depressed about the whole darned thing.
So far, my attempt at moving on and not thinking about it for the next few months? Not working.
Entry filed under: everyone is pregnant, woe is me.
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First Comes Love 
1.
womb for improvement | May 26, 2009 at 2:12 pm
Sometimes I think nothing short of a neon sign saying ‘we are having problems having children’ will do the trick. Even then I’m not convinced everyone would get the message.
2.
annacyclopedia | May 26, 2009 at 4:58 pm
Ugh. That sounds like a pretty unpleasant evening. Sorry you had to go through that.
3.
Missy | May 26, 2009 at 8:14 pm
Sorry you had to put up with all those comments. Some people can be so oblivious.
4.
Eve | May 27, 2009 at 10:55 am
Hi there! Returning your visit to my bloghouse for ICLW! I have sooooo been in those awkward moments, and sooooo feel your pain. And no, I don’t think if ever runs through fertile people’s minds that maybe people are not just married 5 years plus and just ‘sowing our oats before kids’. It’s so hard to see someone in RL living out what you WANT to do. It’s certainly grounds for grouchiness.
5.
Kate (Bee In The Bonnet) | May 28, 2009 at 10:23 am
Grr. I hate douchebags who ask shit like that. Even if you aren’t infertile, that’s an incredibly inappropriate question to ask someone. Family planning is so personal. What if you two had made the decision to wait until you made more money? I mean, salary discussions are personal and inappropriate, so it would have been inappropriate to ask about your family plans in that situation. Or what if you just didn’t want to have kids? Is that any of his business?
That guy needs to get a clue, that if the question you are asking will likely have a highly personal answer, YOU DON’T ASK IT. Duh.
We got asked that all the time by H’s fairly progressive colleagues, but eventually, I just came out of the closet and said that we had tried (and failed) for a very long time, and I really didn’t want to talk about it. And that seemed to work for most of them to shut the hell up (except one who is seemingly convinced that if we “just relax”, it’ll happen, as she chirps to me every chance she gets, reminding me that she got knocked up *naturally* (she emphasizes) at age 42 and 47. Well, yippie-fucking-skippie for YOU…GRRRR.)
Eh. Fuck-em’ all…