Sad, but not sad sad. You know?

Have you ever heard the phrase "when it rains it pours"?

That's my infertility in a nut shell.

Now this could be referring to many different parts of the infertility journey. But today? It's pouring pregnant people.

This is a pretty typical thing for infertile people though.  I'd hazard to say it's the same for single people who long to be married. When you don't have it, you see it EVERYWHERE.

I remember when I was single after college. I hung around with a group of single people at my church. We went out, hung out in various homes, watched movies. Heck, we even ended up spending an entire week together in the summer because of back to back to back plans. But a few months in, things started to change. There would be spurts of people getting together. Then getting engaged. It seemed like an epidemic. I couldn't believe my eyes, to be honest. It seemed like my church was a real life match.com.

It's the same when you don't have kids. Every once in awhile there is a spurt of finding out people are pregnant. Old friends from high school, coworkers, old coworkers, ex-friends, old acquaintances that you haven't thought about in years but are suddenly thrust into your line of sight when you find out they're expecting. I think the most pregnancies I found out about in one day was four. FOUR.

It's not fun.  Not their fault, but it's not fun either.

Thankfully, it makes me sad, but not sad sad. You know?

It's a bummer that I probably won't experience what most women do.
It's a bummer that I probably won't get a shower thrown for me.
It's a bummer that I probably won't get to pick out baby names.
It's a bummer that I probably won't ever hear someone call me "Mom."

Yes. It's sad. But not tears sad.  Not anymore.

I know that sounds crazy. Because all those things I listed (and didn't list for the sake of keeping my word count down) all seem excruciating. They seem unbearable. They seem depressing.

They are, but I've learned how to file the sadness. I've learned how to recognize and dampen the pain. It may sound bad, but I mean it as a positive thing. I don't feel the hopelessness anymore as pain. I feel it as just what it is - realistic about my circumstances.

In other words: I feel acceptance.