Anonymous wrote:
Anonymous wrote:
Anonymous wrote:
Anonymous wrote:
Anonymous wrote:
maril332 wrote:I'm on OP's side. Her friend does not have to act like she's the first person in the world to have issues in life. Ignoring good friends doesn't make it easier.
I have to agree. I have secondary infertility and missing out on my friends' new children is anathema to me. I choose to think of it as an opportunity to flex my maternal side and grow the love around me, even if it isn't in the way I had imagined. I understand the pain people go through, but it is hard for me to understand what is gained by isolating oneself and pushing away people who want to love and support you. I have found that talking frankly about our situation has helped immensely, and that far from being "insensitive," my friends have proven themselves to be amazingly sensitive, gracious, and supportive.
I'm sorry but secondary infertility is different from not being able to have any children at all. You really don't understand that?
I almost think it would be worse for the person with secondary infertility because they
actually know what it's like to create life and be a parent. People with primary infertility are wallowing in self-imposed misery about a concept that is completely abstract to them. I feel worse for the person who actually knows what it's like, chooses to do it again, and can not.
"Wallowing in self-imposed misery"? You are truly, truly an asshole. Feel better or worse for whomever you want, but please - if you've never experienced primary infertility, try to refrain from insulting those have and minimizing their very real emotional pain.
The way I see it, it is much like having a friend who gets a boat. You know you want a boat because it is common knowledge that boats are awesome! boats are the shit! but you can't afford one. So you envelop yourself in an increasingly intense echo chamber of irrational jealousy, despair and rage until you must cut off contact with your friends, because you can't bear to see your friends enjoying themselves on the glistening water with their tans and their Ray-Bans and their cervezas. But you don't know what it's really like to have a boat. You don't know what it's like to stay up at night with a knot in your stomach because you accounted for boat payments and insurance and slip fees, but had no idea how expensive the maintenance would be; because suddenly you don't know whether people actually want to hang out with you, or if they just want to hang out on your boat; because you are stressed out about fitting into boating culture (buying nautical themed clothing, floppy hats ... the next logical step is to buy a waverunner, but then you're going to need a beach house!); because that damn boat is running your finances into the ground. You have no idea what it is like to be a boat owner, yet you'll cut off your previously close friends all because they have a boat and you don't? It is indeed self-imposed misery. Not everyone gets to have a boat.