Issue 50: How to keep calm and cope

Saturday May 25 2019

I can feel myself wandering into “a little bit bitter” territory. I did not want to get here, it’s a no-fly zone as far as I’m concerned, but I fell in (or was I pushed?).

It seems that every other person I pass on the planet is pregnant. It is a feat so hard for Mr B and I to achieve that I find myself staring at a bump on the Tube with mouth-agape wonder. I want to tap that expectant mother on the belly and say: “Do you realise how miraculous it is that you had all the correct conditions to allow that to happen?”

I know, of course, that evolutionarily it’s what women were invented for, but the more we fail, the more I am in awe of people who succeed. Especially those who do it naturally. You had sex, which you presumably quite enjoyed, and look what happened! What an incredible side-effect of pure, stress-free fun times, rather than clinically cold doctors’ appointments and three-way lawyer negotiations. Granted, this is a flippant analysis of natural baby-making. I have a number of friends who found it so difficult to conceive naturally that sex became the opposite of stress-free fun times. IN ONE WAY, I quite like that I’m appreciating the true wonder of life like this, but I’d appreciate a baby for myself much more.

I also worry about how delicate my friends must find me these days. It makes for this uncomfortable paranoia equation: X is pregnant, plus we haven’t seen them for ages, therefore my presence must make them feel a bit guilty so they’re avoiding me. (Mr B reassures me people are busy, just like before they were pregnant, and I’m being ridiculous. He is probably right. It’s not all about me.)

Still, to my pregnant friends or parent friends, I probably feel as sorry for you as you do for me. Because I get that you must agonise over how to talk to me about your beautiful kids, or how to tell me you’re expecting. I feel for your super-cautious text messages. It does hurt a bit, it would be weird if it didn’t, but I still want to hear your news. I’m still buoyantly, joyously happy for you, just with a dollop of sadness on the side.

There are many life triggers for that particular sadness, and unfortunately being middle-aged (gah!) with lots of fertile friends means I’m exposed to them with increasing regularity.

But, as him indoors so succinctly puts it: “You’re not going to hide in a dark room until you get your end goal, so you’ve just got to learn to cope.”

So learning to cope I am — in any and all of the trigger situations I’m forever finding myself in. (Mr B has hidden in a few dark rooms of his own, but for the most part his advice is golden.) I think I’ve got it down by now. Can I share? Here’s how to remain calm and carry on in the face of the following...

Dealing with a new pregnancy announcement: close friend

Ooph, this one is the kicker. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. You love your friend, your friend knows her news might hurt you, you know they know, and yes, it’ll probably hurt. Here’s what you do.

Pre-emptive strike. Get in there first with: “I know you’ll have worried about how to tell me this, but FFS (insert friend’s name here), this is you we’re talking about. Your good news is my good news. If the kid’s middle name isn’t (insert your name here) then it’s over between us.” Or something to that effect.

Dealing with a new pregnancy announcement: colleague (group scenario)

Some people in the room might know you’re struggling, some might not. This presents a self-conscious black hole, so the only thing to do is assume that everyone is looking at you and be a picture of cool, elegant calm. Stay for the initial congratulations, then extricate yourself from the mum chat that will follow. Try this: “Oh my God. I thought you might be pregnant when you weren’t drinking at Carol’s leaving do. This is so amazing! Argh, I’ve got to run to my bloody meeting, does anyone want a coffee on the way back?” See? Cool, calm, stating your intention to return, and totally, totally cooool.

Baby shower

I know it’s tempting to avoid these barrels of fun at all costs, but you know what? If you separate the emotion, they are actually potential barrels of fun. You’ve been invited because you’re close to the mother-to-be, therefore there will likely be people there you like hanging out with. And that is all the basis you need for a decent party in my opinion.

If possible, be honest with one of them about what you’re dealing with; it’s like having a parachute strapped to your back should you need it, but because it’s there you probably won’t. Prepare yourself for feeling jealous, but totally allow it too (in private, of course). I’m jealous when I’m on a health kick, eating a salad while my friend with a miraculous metabolism is having carbonara. But I know I’ll enjoy my own carbonara one day and I’ll have worked harder for it, so it will taste even more delicious.

Saying that, a baby shower is an excellent source of prosecco and cupcakes, so dig in. You deserve some calorific compensation here of all places, surely?

Visiting a new baby

I love this bit. I love cuddling my friends’ babies: I channel all my hopes and dreams into that cute, warm connection and then I imagine what it will be like to hold my own baby. Woah! Mind-melting loveliness. Their little dumpling bottoms and satisfying heaviness. Even if it doesn’t happen for me, I think I will still manage to enjoy these moments.

Who knows what’s going to happen. But there’s a chance it could be this, so try to enjoy it for what it is. Someone you know made this kid — how amazing is that? And you get to hand it back and go for a delicious afternoon nap, so...

IVF success

Ah yes, those “it worked first time for me” stories. Or “oh God, it was so, so awful, but we got there the second time”. Those burn for people like me who have had six failures. I always think we have different tolerance for pain, emotionally as well as physically, and we can never assume that someone’s pain isn’t as bad or feels worse than our own.

Anyone doing IVF is not in the “ideal” scenario already, and if it worked first time? Well obviously that can feel frustrating for those where it didn’t, but it’s also hugely hopeful. That does happen. Quite a lot. Therefore, by the law of averages, it’s possible it will work for me too. I’ll just have to wait longer and spend more money. But like that carbonara, I hope that means I’ll appreciate it more. Ha. One point to the losers!

Mum network

It’s relatively new, this “digital mum” idea, but it’s pretty inescapable. This ever-growing online community is an amazing and supportive resource for women with children everywhere, a great new consumerist opportunity and therefore probably a boost to the economy too. (There is, apparently, a thing called the mum economy and it’s worth £7 billion to the UK. Where’s the dad economy, eh? Oh yes, that’s just called the economy.)

The obvious coping strategy here is don’t look. These aren’t your people (yet!). But yes, I subscribe to a few of the forums — it’s a fascinating insight, but it makes me feel like Tiny Tim looking in the window at the Christmas feast. Or maybe the unpopular kid at school. Can I join your club? Can I? Oh, OK then...

This is pretty simple and I need to take my own advice here, but feeling left out of the mum network is like feeling upset about not buying maternity bras. You don’t need that stuff, so no need to wander into that department.

Ahh. That’s better. Self-preservation is fine. In fact, it’s bloody necessary. I was advised by a therapist once that when people try to talk to me about their cancer scares (so many people want to do that with me), I should put my palm up and firmly say: “Stop please.” As if. I’m British, I have a politeness problem. But I can say, “So anyway, guys, Tom Hardy. Hotter in Legend or Peaky Blinders? Let’s discuss,” and ever so subtly and intricately steer the conversation in a more palatable direction. (In this case, one that enthralls everyone involved.) It’s a diversion tactic that helps with any of the above.

The internet summed it up for me recently, in the way that only the internet knows how — with an affirmation. “In between goals is a thing called life, and it has to be lived and enjoyed.” That means taking full advantage of the baby shower cupcakes if you ask me.