Dispatch from Wedding-ville, Part 2

There was an empty high chair at our table. While this could be a metaphor for how I was feeling, I actually mean it in the literal sense. Our friends with the baby (the one I’d planned to cuddle as a way to avoid any stressful conversations) couldn’t make it at the last minute, so it was just us, the pregnant couple, and one other set of (newly engaged) friends.

All in all, it was okay. I managed to have a small conversation with the pregnant friend (hereafter, PF) and her mom about maternity clothing or some such. At some point, she said something about how she’d given up alcohol even before, since they had been trying for a while. For a minute there, I was concerned that I had blown the whole thing out of proportion and that she was One of Us. So I followed her when she stepped away for the table, and asked how long they’d been trying before they got pregnant.

“Four months,” she said. “I know it’s not really that long, but it felt like a long time.”

“We’ve been trying for over a year now,” I said.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know how hard it was when it didn’t happen right away, and we were really lucky.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad you realize that.”

I did explain, briefly, that we were past the testing stages and in the process of medical procedures - no specifics. I also explained that this was why I had a lot of info about high risk pregnancies (and gestational surrogacy, which came up in conversation the night before) - because I have a bunch of friends (that would be you lovely people) who have been through all different kinds of fertility treatments and pregnancy issues. (I was careful not to be one of those evil people who tells pregnant women horror stories - as envious as I am of her right now, I wish her nothing but the best and wouldn’t want her to feel otherwise.) I didn’t say anything about not wanting to talk about her pregnancy - it seemed a little late for that, and I was doing okay.

So the day went pretty smoothly, up until they said their goodbyes, and she gave me an extra hug and wished me luck as I was pressed against her pregnant belly. And then I went outside to cry.

One lonely line this morning, at 12DPO. I’m beginning to doubt the existence of that second line, since I’ve never seen one. I’m still trying to keep Hope around, but she’s looking kinda distracted.