Isolation Booth **Edited For Clarity**

Things are weird.  I feel like all of my friendships are on hold, in limbo, or possibly just damaged beyond repair.  It's not unlike the feeling of isolation that I felt when dealing with infertility.  I thought that once I got pregnant I would rejoin, reconnect, and slip right back into my niche with the people I hold as dear to me as family. My group has changed, though.  I was off at war. Fighting this awful enemy that threatened my hopes and seeped into all aspects of my life. I won that battle or at least, AM winning that battle for now.  However, everything has changed.  People have changed. I have changed. And relationships that were once wonderful and fulfilling are either gone or empty or have just changed so much without me realizing, that I don't even recognize them or know where to begin to find my way back to them.

When I was fighting IF, I turned to my friends for advice and comfort.  They knew of my struggles, as a few were fighting similar battles.  It all gets so old, though. "What's going on?"  "How are you doing?"  "Any news?" These questions became like crosses to bear.  "Just waiting."  "The same."  "No, nothing to report."  There was a sense of self-consciousness that overcame me.  It seemed that ALL of my conversations in ALL of my friendships centered around what was happening in my life and my fight with infertility, my quest to get pregnant.  I hated it. I wanted to run away from it all. Get back to a place where I could have laughter and fun without this cloud hanging over my head, without wondering what the next cycle would bring, worrying if I would ever get where I was desperate to be.  I wanted to be me and I just couldn't.

Now, I'm pregnant.  A battle has been won.  Aside from lost time, a friendship is also lost. Three more friendships are weird.  I haven't a clue how to fix any of it. Two of them are weird for reasons I understand. Completely.

One is with a fellow IFer who was pregnant right along side me for about 6 weeks. Sadly, she lost her baby at 9 weeks, has had a D&C and is now waiting for her body to regulate so that she can move forward with an FET.  I have been there. I know all about the protective walls we build around ourselves when we feel vulnerable, sad and beat down from IF.  When I had my m/c last April, she was there for me and I know there was a period of "downtime" where her support never wavered.  But I wasn't up for it. I wanted to shut the world out. Forget about it all.  Be a hermit.  Stay in my shell.  My support for her is there and I know that she knows that. I'm just kind of waiting for the natural progression of these things.  She waited for me. I wait for her. Plus, she is super busy with her work.  Matters that must be attended to - work demands its demands, people!!  Still, feeling disconnected is never a good feeling.

Another friend of mine has received devastating news.  She can no longer use her own eggs if she wants to carry a child.  I could not imagine what a blow that would be.  We've stayed in touch.  We're talking less than what we have before, but still talking. She has admitted that she thinks it's the end of the road for her and TTC.  I listen and support, but I cannot, CANNOT imagine how she must be feeling. All I can do is tell her I love her and that if she needs me I am here. She has told me she wants to take a step back from all things TTC.  See how she feels. I know she is doing what she needs to do for her. But I'm sad for us.  I would love to talk to her about the other things she has going on in her life.  But I understand her need for space.

The third friend is a bit weirder on the "things are weird" scale.  She admitted to me some things that I know she is not proud of.  She didn't want to keep secrets from me, so she told me some things.  Now she has just kind of disappeared off the radar and I can only imagine that she maybe wishes she hadn't told me to begin with? Like she thought she would feel better, but doesn't?  I don't know - all I can do is just continue to try and reach out to her. I love her no matter what.

The friendship that was lost happened before I started stimming for my cycle. I don't really know what to say about it other than maybe, just maybe, had I not been staring down the barrel of our last chance at conceiving, I would have been able to devote more energy into saving it, given it the fight it deserved. I was wrong to let it go the way it did, but she was wrong, too. Now, it's too late.  Actions on both of our parts have shown that neither of us are willing to go back and make ammends. I'm still sad over it, though.

Turns out, in pregnancy one can feel just as isolated as on infertility.  My friends are changing. I am changing. We're struggling to keep that connection that keeps us changing together.