… as I fiddle with my wedding/engagement rings …
Colleague: “So how’s married life treating you?”
Me: “Oh, it’s good, you know.”
C: “Yea, you two getting to know each other?”
M: (Awkward laugh.) “Oh, well we got to know each other pretty well in college. And we’ve been married for almost three years now.”
C: “That’s good. Yea, the first year of marriage is always interesting, a challenge.”
M: (Obligatory smile.) “Hmm …” (Yea, especially when you start battling infertility from day one. But the direction of the toilet paper roll is MUCH more serious, don’t you think?)
C: “So, are your mothers buggin’ you about babies yet?”
M: (Enter anxiety.) “No, no, not yet.” (More like they’re on their hands and knees praying like crazy to our Heavenly Father. More like every conversation with my mom involves crying because I can’t be a mother, and her heart aches with mine.)
C: “Yea, it’s good to have some time to yourself for the first little bit.”
M: (Nods head.) Dude, you have no idea.
They have no idea how hard it is to hold back the truth and walk around work everyday saying “Good, how are you?” to every initiated, obligatory “How are you?” question. They have no idea how hard it is to say “No, it’s not that I’m not ready; it’s that I can’t on my own.”
It’s not their fault, though. I know that. I know they mean well. I know they assume I’m a spring chicken with beautiful, healthy eggs … not eggs with cracks in them.
If you can’t tell, I’m struggling today. Like, it’s been a burst-into-tears-at-my-desk-and-close-the-door kind of day.