Monday 26 May 2014

Inclusion Criteria

I recently attended an all-day continuing medical education workshop. During a break, one of the conference administrators drew names of participants to give away some water bottles and other promotional items. As I really don't want one more piece of clutter in my house, I was hoping that my name would not be called. Then the administrator called any pregnant women or anyone who had a baby within the past year to the front of the auditorium, as she had a special gift - a baby bib.

I'm not sure what came over me, but I thought, "I'm about to start infertility treatments -does that count?" I realised that no one here knows me. I could come out as an infertile woman. I started to walk up to the front of the room. Then suddenly I stopped myself. I didn't want to hear others talk in an excited tone about our up coming IVF as if it would actually work. I didn't want to have to explain that this is actually our second cycle, so our prognosis isn't very promising. I didn't want anyone's pity. Yet at the same time, I feared that the administrator would tell me "No, you can't have one. You don't have a baby and you're not pregnant. 'In the process of an IVF cycle' doesn't count..." I highly doubted she would say it, but those words were in my own head.

As an effort to cover up, I walked over to one girl who I earlier overheard announce that she was pregnant with her second and asked if I could take a look at the bib. Hers was yellow as she doesn't know the gender and it had the company's logo on the front. The material looked cheap. If I were pregnant I wouldn't actually want one. As I returned to my seat, my inner bitter infertile returned; Fucking A! I can't escape it anywhere!

Once seated, I had a view of all the new parents and preggers who were holding their bibs and posing for a photo to go up on the company's website. I metaphorically gagged a bit, but I acknowledged that I didn't belong among them. It was a game of 'one of these things is not like the others'. A mere hopeful, pathetic infertile is not entitled to the same recognition as actual parents and women with a viable pregnancy. Then it really hit me. I'm really reluctant to admit this, but part of me just wanted to feel included. Perhaps it's the most petty of all the infertility related pain, but it's presence is nonetheless palpable. I feel like the girl in high school who is rejected by the popular clique.

"You didn't want one?" asked the guy who was sitting next to me. He was probably in his late 50s or early 60s. Earlier he had mentioned that he had two grown kids and a one year old grandson, whom he described as the new "love of his life". A lump was forming in my throat as I thought about the words my parents would use for their grandchild if they ever were to have one. Please don't ask me if I have any kids, I telepathically pleaded and he obliged. "Oh, I was just curious to see what they looked like..." I lied as I pulled out my notebook to prepare for the next session. After the next break he returned with a bib in hand. He picked one up for his grandson. "Here, you can see it up close." he showed me.

"I am infertile and I've had two miscarriages." I revealed to him. "I thought about asking for one as we're in the process of infertility treatments, but I can't allow myself to engage in any optimistic actions as it makes it so much harder when we do encounter heartbreak." Silence. There were no words of encouragement offered. No looks of pity in my direction. No questions asked. He opened his notebook to the next session. Not only were the popular girls scoffing and dismissing me, it seemed that no one else wanted anything to do with me. I felt like the girl sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria, as she watches everyone else laughing and having fun.

18 comments:

  1. Nothing. Really? Sorry Hun. You would think an old guy would have at least a stupid comment like 'keep trying' 'you're young' or 'just relax'. Maybe nothing is better. Hugs. XOXO

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  2. I'm so sorry. More sorry that the one individual you did share with was just silent on the topic. Anyone can say, "I'm sorry", right?

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  3. Ugh, I can't believe he couldn't think of one thing to say! I think calling out all the pregnant ladies/new parents is obnoxious! Maybe that's just my cold, bitter, infertile heart talking but I feel like even at 8 months pregnant I wouldn't want to jump up and join that group. Chances are most of them didn't earn it the hard way like I did and I feel like that puts me in a different category...maybe that's self absorbed but that's how I feel.

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  4. Argh. I'm sorry. I hate this complete lack of response. I recently talked to a very pregnant woman at work, asking when she was due and sharing that I was pregnant, too. She asked if I was nervous, and I shared that we'd had a stillbirth last year and that I was hoping everything would go well this time. Her response? Nothing. Not a single word. Come on people.
    Hoping you will get a much more awesome bib next year (although I'm afraid actually feeling included may be harder, at least I keep struggling with that).

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  5. I can't believe he didn't say anything. I know people are uncomfortable.. but a simple I am sorry to hear that would do. Ugh.

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  6. I really hate when moms or moms to be are called out like that amongst a group of people- that will always bother and hurt me! Ugh!!

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  7. I really don't see the point of singling people out that way, except that I do - it was all manipulative and self-serving (to get a cute photo for the website). Those bibs sound really ugly anyway. I wouldn't want anything with a brand name on my baby. It's also sad that the one person you confided in was clueless.

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  8. I am so sorry that you were in this dumb situation and that man was clearly an idiot. I understand wanting to fit in and it gets old always being left out. I hope that this round of IVF leaves you buying plenty of bibs- that will be much cuter :)

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  9. What an ass. I don't know whether it would have been worse if he'd just given you a platitude. However, might make him think twice in future about asking about other people's personal lives. And I'm with Torthuil. This was all about the company. Even if I had kids I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have gone up there so they could use me for their promotional materials. Then again, I always avoided going up to try to catch the bouquet at weddings too. I'm not a joiner, I guess. It really sucks that you felt excluded, though.

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  10. Ugh, what a total ass. Seriously, that guy sounds like a jerk. Honestly, I find it weird that he would call his grandchild the "love of his life." It just sounds...creepy old man-ish. I absolutely hate those kinds of situations where people with kids are given special treatment. I'm sorry you had to endure that. But you know what, who needs them? Let them have their shitty corporate bibs. I think good things are in store for you.

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  11. Aside from the desire to grow our family and have a child, one of the hardest feelings for me to deal with was feeling excluded. Yes, it may be petty, when you think of the entire picture, but it's still very real and can be hard to deal with. I'm sure part of m would have longed to be the one going up and proudly accepting a gift with other mothers. But another part of me now recognizes how weird (and insensitive) it is to single out people like that at a conference just for publicity.

    I'm sorry that guy was a jerk. It's so tragic that so many people just don't get it.

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  12. I can't believe he said NOTHING. I can't imagine someone telling me something so personal and just giving NO response. So insensitive. I'm glad you said that to him though-- I'm sure it at least made him think (giving him the benefit of the doubt, obviously) and will hopefully teach him something.
    Your baby deserves cuter bibs anyway.

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  13. I used to call this feeling "chosen last in gym class." I now realize this phrase implies that eventually you will get chosen. I am sorry. It's such a crappy feeling. Sometimes I think I can handle infertility relatively ok if I didn't have to cope with feeling so terribly left out. I am thinking of you.

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  14. I hate how excluded I feel for not having a kid. Like I really needed something else to make me sad about it, of course let's add in the fact that EVERYONE else is able to do it quickly and easily. That guy sounds like a douche. An, "oh, I'm sorry to hear that" would have been a polite response. And while you certainly don't need your child to be wearing promotional merch, it does hurt to be excluded. Thinking of you.

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  15. Sometimes when people here ask me if I want to have a baby--generally when one of the crop of newly born babies come by the office on tour, I think about saying "yeah, we've been trying for 3 years. Having a baby is perhaps the thing I want most of all." But I stop myself because I'm worried about the awkward silence to follow, making people feel bad who are just asking the question to be friendly (why they think it's friendly is beyond me), the pity for our plight, and the explanation I'd have to give on a complex process. That guy was an ass--he should have said something, but it also reinforces why I just nod and smile when people ask me if/when we're going to have kids.

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  16. Just to reiterate what we all agree on here... what an asshole! How hard would it have been to throw out a generic, "Sorry to hear that?" Ew. He sucks. A little sensitivity, perhaps?

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  17. I have ended countless conversations by saying my twins are the result of IVF. People don't know what to say. I just keep thinking don't ask if twins run in my family if you aren't prepared for the more uncomfortable answer. Still, he could have thrown out some generic platitude.
    Sorry you feel left out. I know that feeling all too well. I suppose we all do. Sadly, that feeling hasn't gone away for me. I still don't feel like I belong with the "normal" moms. They didn't have to work for it the way I did. I just can't relate to them. Infertility - it just keeps f%^cking with you.

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