Barren Grief

Whatdoyasay when people innocently inquire, "When are you going to have kids?"
And you want to, but you can't?

Maybe someday.

Whatdoyoudo when you're still waiting to be able to tell people you're the one who is pregnant,
And every other woman you are close to has already said it,
at least once
And they're younger than you?

It's just not our turn, again.

How much longer do you try and wait before you give up hope and admit your own barrenness?

This is never going to happen for us.

How can you look your husband in the eye,
Knowing you can never give him children?

What's wrong with me?

What's it like to feel like you're excluded from the Mommy club, or that you can't participate in a conversation about your kids when it's the dominant topic of conversation at most social gatherings for women your age?

I sit there silently, trying to smile and contribute something. Anything!

I crawl inside myself and hide there behind a smile. Don't ask me how I'm doing because I'll tell you what you want to hear, not what I'm dying to scream at you. Waves of grief wash over me and recede.

I wish I didn't want this so badly, then disappointment couldn't cut my heart so deeply.