Thursday, May 22, 2008

The look

Family get-togethers are joyful events - or are they? Ever since I had my son I've always felt awkward in family celebrations. I know this sounds weird. For years, when I didn't have children, it was a nightmare going to parties where there would be children around or the dreaded questions would pop up "So, when are you guys thinking of having kids? What are you waiting for?". I was so desperate then just to be part of the gang. You see, wanting to have children is not solely about the joys of motherhood, it also has to do with the sense of belonging.

Once I had the little guy, I honestly thought that I'd just blend in with all the other parents and no more awkward questions. But now it's something else all together. As usual, my husband thinks I'm paranoid. Ok, maybe I am. But it's a different kind of awkwardness. I get these weird looks from people when I'm with my son. If I could read their minds just from the look on their faces, it'd be something along the lines of "Look at them, how sweet. What that poor woman went through to have a baby." Ok, now you are starting to think I'm paranoid. But I hate pity!

And, in these gatherings, when people ask me what I've been up to, I automatically launch on to the work I've been doing in my association. That's when I get another type of look. This time it's like "Can't you just leave that topic alone. It's over. Why put yourself through this again". For fuck sakes, because infertility is an integral part of my life.

Today I went to the first communion of my niece. Topic of conversation at the table: death, cancer, colesterol, losing weight, bitching about others, gossip. Not a damn person was interested in anything I had to say on how we're working so hard to help the 500,000 couples who suffer from infertility in our country. That's when I get a look from my husband which says loud & clear "Leave it alone. Drop that topic now or you're going to spoil the atmosphere". What atmosphere? Oh yeah, talking about who died or what so & so is wearing.

Am I angry? You're damn right I am. Probably paranoid as well, but that's an age thing.

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