in case you forgot....

Lately I've been in a state of numbness.  A certifiable walking, running, talking, singing, laughing, playing robot.  The stages of my journey so far:

1) Shock
2) Denial
3) Anger
4) Despair
5) Numbness (punctuated by momentary lapses into hysteria)

I'm not really sure what comes next, but numbness is actually a very useful coping mechanism- usurped only by when you happen upon this on Facebook and sob uncontrollably for 30 minutes.  Being in this stage of numbness, I kinda forget how much this all sucks.  I forget I'm in pain.  I forget I'm not a mom, I forget how badly I want to cradle my very own little one in my arms, hold her to my cheek, stroke her hair.  I actually forget that I'm broken and may never be fixed.  That girl?  Oh, she's someone that I read about somewhere once.  Poor thing.

And, you know, that's not a bad way to exist.  

So I'd like to thank the brilliant waitress who asked me if I was pregnant at dinner tonight.  When I begrudgingly declined a glass of wine (anticipating a weekend of concert singing and wanting to treat my voice right) and opted for decaf coffee after our meal, you blurted out, "Wait, are you pregnant?!" with unrestrained enthusiasm.  (You were sure you'd guessed a secret I was keeping.)

Well, Brittany, you know, I'd actually forgotten that I'm not pregnant.  And when you followed up with "'Cause like, all my friends are pregnant so it's on my mind because I swear there's something in the water," it was THEN I realized that for the evening I'd forgotten how much it stings to hear someone else's joyous news.  Over. and over.  I'd actually forgotten the shame I feel for all the years I took fertility for granted.  (You really just don't expect these problems when you come from a giant family in which children are abundantly abundant.)

How could you have known what a poignant question that was to me?   You were sweet.  So "I'll have some of THAT water, hahaha!"  I said instead of what I wanted to say.  "No. I'm infertile."  With a deep, bitter stare.  This really feels like being the best one at the audition and not getting picked because you don't know the director.  Then everyone else you know keeps asking you if you're in the show.  Just in case you forgot that it's not your turn.  The whole world surrounds you with a resounding reminder.  "Not you. Not you. Not you." Well, Brittanys of the world, I won't take your blissful ignorance from you.  I long to have that same ignorance returned to me.  To not be the poor girl whom the world would pity if they only knew the torment I feel.  So for your sake, I'll get back to my robot-ing now.