Left Behind

Infertility is a thief. It steals so much from so many. And while it gives in many ways, it often gives only to take away again.

I have some amazing friends because of infertility. Because of blogs and common ground, we came together in our journey to try and have a(nother) child. And I’m thrilled to say that two of them have new babies and one is in the midst of her second trimester.

And I feel left behind.

It feels like my best group of friends all planned a trip with me. Some of us have been on this trip before, and some of us are going for the first time. And then when it’s time to get on the plane I am stuck on the freeway while they are boarding. They didn’t do anything wrong, and nobody would expect them not to get on the plane, shoot they probably figure I’ll just catch another one and meet them out there. But see, I get to the airport eventually, and they tell me that flights don’t just go to our destination every day. So I’m going to have to wait. I call my friends and tell them I’m trying as hard as I can to get there to be with them, but to go on without me, because I am not sure when I’ll get there. They’re sad, and they miss me, but they get it. So they do. They visit monuments and see shows and eat in restaurants and experience new things.

I go home, because there’s no point in sitting in the airport since they can’t even tell me when the next flight will be. I’m supposed to call in a month or so to see what’s available. But in a month, my friends will be on their way somewhere else. A month goes by and I call the airline and I’m in luck! They have a flight for me. So I check in with my friends, and they’re having a great time and so excited I’m going to get on a plane. So I get on the plane and we make it halfway down the runway before the pilot comes on and says there’s a problem with the plane and we have to turn back. The flight has to be cancelled, and nobody can tell me if there will be another one soon.

I call my friends, and I tell them the bad news. They are sad, but they are having fun and it’s good to see the pictures they are sending me and the stories they tell. But I’m sad. Because I want to be there with them. I go home. Again. There’s a hope that another flight is right behind this one but it ends up being cancelled before I even leave for the airport.

I start to wonder if I’ll ever get to be with them. It’s fun to see their posts about how great their trip is and see pictures of their progress on the trip we planned together. I live vicariously. And it’s not like being at home is so bad. There are amazing fun things I can do at home. But we planned this trip together. And I’m supposed to be on it. People start to tell me all sorts of things to make me feel better – things like I don’t HAVE to go on this trip. There will be others, and I could go somewhere else if I wanted, plan something completely different. And they’re right. But this was the trip I planned, this was the trip I wanted to go on. I’m not sure how to let go of this trip. I planned it for so long. People say maybe I can go on this trip but I’ll have to do it on my own. Without my friends. And that may be true. If I knew I was going to go on this trip eventually, it would make seeing my friends enjoying their trip easier. But the airline never knows if I’ll get there, and the flight change fees are starting to add up.

When my friends call to tell me how the trip is going, they are so happy. I’m happy with them. Genuinely happy. They are experiencing some amazing things, and they are wishing I could be there with them. Eventually, they forget I was supposed to be there with them except for when I mention it.

I want more than almost anything to go on this trip. Even though it seems like I might have to go on it by myself. It’s worth it. But it’s really hard to be the one left behind, wondering if I’ll even ever get there. It gets harder and harder to look at their pictures and read their stories. It doesn’t mean I don’t wish my friends were there enjoying themselves, and it doesn’t mean I don’t share in their joy.

It just means I stand out in the backyard and watch the planes fly overhead, wondering if I’ll ever be on one of them again.

So airplane airplane sorry I’m late
I’m on my way so don’t close that gate
If I don’t make that then I’ll switch my flight and
I’ll be right back at it by the end of the night

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now,
a wish right now, a wish right now.
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right,
a wish right now, a wish right now.
— B.O.B. with Hayley Williams