I’m used to feeling left behind. My friends started having babies so long ago that I’ve grown used to the fact that I’m the last childless person in my circle of friends. When I started trying, my sister-in-law was single. In the time that I’ve been trying to start a family, she met a guy, got engaged, got married and has had two children. Younger coworkers who weren’t engaged when I met them are married and pregnant or have already given birth. I’ve been left in the dust.
I found solace in my support group though and met so many women who were in my position. Lately, though, I’ve been feeling left behind there too. There are so many new people in the group, it almost feels sad to keep going and to keep telling my story to these women who are just starting Clomid. Meanwhile, the women I started out with are thinking about child number two.
You’re not supposed to compare yourself to other people, right? Don’t a million pins on Pinterest say that? But how? We spend our entire lives being compared to other people. You spend your school life being graded and ranked with your other classmates. Classes are graded on curves. You’re separated out into different classes based on your talents. Then, all of a sudden, you’re supposed to stop. You’re supposed to stop caring about where your life is in comparison to your peers. I understand that stopping the comparisons would probably make me happier but it’s a lot easier said than done.
I don’t live my life in a bubble. I wish I could sometimes. Instead I live in a world when I encounter other people getting the thing I most want all the time. It feels inevitable to compare myself to them and to feel left behind.
Supposed to be my symphony 
There’s nothing easy about any of this. It IS hard, if not impossible, not to compare … looking back at how I filled my time and my days pre-adoption, I realize that I fought hard at work to try and be the best, I bought closets full of clothes and shoes, I have drawers full of make up and jewellery … trying hard to be recognized or noticed for something I guess, when all I really ever wanted was a baby.
I wish I could extend words of wisdom to help you through this time, but I can’t. It’s effing hard and nothing makes it any easier. Even time doesn’t seem to heal infertility, just seems to make it worse. After 10 years in the trenches, I do know one thing … the pain is replaced by bliss the moment your baby is placed in your arms. You will not be left behind. Your baby is on his/her way.
I have been trying to think of an uplifting response to this post since you posted it basically, and I’ve come up with nothing. It’s so SO hard and it sucks so SO bad and I wish I could make it all better and find you a baby already! I wish it were that easy. I’m so sorry for everything that you’ve had to go through and I still hope and wish and pray every day for a baby for you.