Am I Crazy?

First of all, I must be crazy, because I SHOULD be sleeping right now. It's 11:00 p.m. and baby boy has been asleep in his crib since an amazing 9:30!! I should be taking every opportunity to sleep--but here I am. Wide awake.

The thing is, I had one of those days. Tell me, my fellow infertile friends (if any of you are out there reading) do you ever have days like this: You start out the day feeling pretty ok. You might even feel pretty darn good about life. You could even be found from time to time singing along with whatever lame song is playing on the radio in the car.

You see your first pregnant woman standing in front of you in line at the store in the morning. You smile inwardly and say, 'Good for her' or something magnanimous like that. Then, you see your next pregnant woman as you exit the store (she crosses your path like a black cat--well, a pregnant black cat). Then you pick up your dry-cleaning, and the woman behind the counter is, yes, ready to burst. Off to work, and while waiting at a red light, TWO of them (they travel in packs some times) walk through the cross walk in front of you. You keep trying to hold on to that positive vibe you had going. You think, 'Oh this is just a funny little joke the universe is playing on me.' Ha. Ha. Then, you get to your office, and you have a client meeting. She brings along her sister/friend/wedding planner--who's pregnant. Now you start to feel like you ate something bad or maybe had too much coffee (oh but wait, you don't drink coffee anymore--trying to increase your chances of fertility!) because you have this stinging, acid feeling rising up in your stomach. At lunch, your best friend calls you to let you know how her latest ultrasound went. Everything looks great. And, they're having a boy! You are happy for her. Of course. You make it through the day somehow, without crying or anything. You even hold it together on your way home as you see about 5 more pregnant women within about 10 blocks. You try not to notice that annoying bus stop advertisement that is basically just a photo of a big pregnant belly.

Then you get home, to your sanctuary. You turn on the TV. You pour a glass of wine. And you see the world's most annoying commercial. A montage of women in labor. One after the other. And then the montage changes to these happy women being handed their little babies. And the voice-over says something like, "we know how hard you worked to have your baby...." or something like that--you're not even sure, because at that point you've run into the other room to cry/barf/stare at the wall/eat a pound of chocolate/whatever.

Now, luckily for me, when it gets to that point, I can pick up my baby boy. I can whisper to him, (in response to that EVIL commercial) "I DID work hard for you. I didn't get to carry you for nine months and give birth to you, but the pain of labor can never compare to the pain of wanting you for so, so long. It can never compare to the pain of NOT being able to be the one that created you and gave you life. It can not compare to the pain of feeling inadequate, ashamed, forsaken and alone for 3 + years (and counting)."

So, maybe it's just me. Maybe I am the only one who feels this way. I think my husband thinks so. I don't think he understands how I can still be sad about being infertile even though we have now adopted the World's Cutest Baby. I don't know either. I feel like a crazy person.