Having a toddler and being in the "officially waiting" stage for adopting a second child have put me in a position of relative contentment. Infertility hardly ever crosses my mind (well, about once a month when I am again reminded that I'm not pregnant, but it's not an obsessive thought).
So it took me a bit by surprise when I was hit with a weird sort of melancholy after hearing my brother's news that he and his wife are expecting their first child.
It's not like I didn't expect this to happen soon. They've been married almost two years and just bought their first home. They were preparing. I guess I just didn't expect it to happen this fast.
(For those of you keeping score at home, that means that all three of my brothers will be adding babies to their families in 2009. Grandkid-palooza.)
I'm happy for them. I really am. I wouldn't wish infertility on anyone. It's just that I'm sometimes surprised to find so many people having babies with relative ease. I occasionally forget that fertility is a normal state of being.
So, this weekend at Olivia's cousin's birthday party, two of my sisters-in-law were swapping recommendations on where to get cute maternity clothes and what was the best type of nursing bra to buy. I had absolutely nothing to add.
Infertility doesn't define me, but it's always a part of my reality.