An infertile's mine field.

"You have to just look at it like it's a sick joke at this point," Buster said, trying to keep me calm, sane, rational. It didn't really do the trick.

Big news flash here, but yesterday was Easter! And I'm going to be honest here, I'm not a fan of church. I am scarred from experiences when I was younger when we were "forced" to go with my crazy grandparents (who told my sister she would be going to hell because she's a lesbian, and that they don't "run with queers"... who says that???? And it's not like my sister was asking them to do a fucking 5k with her or something!). My grandparents are the type of people who donate TONS of money to their church, and will also be the first to tell you how much they have donated. It's unsettling, to be honest. I could write a book about the effed up relationships in my family, but I am meandering far from my point here, so moving along...

Buster and I went to church with the in-laws for Easter. Not because we wanted to, but because we know how happy it makes MIL. Buster's brother and his wife do not go. They don't often feel the need to make sacrifices for others happiness, especially when it comes to my in-laws. So, Buster plays good son and we go to church.

As many of you probably know, church on Easter Sunday is filled with babies and children in cute clothes. For an infertile, it's a mine field. No matter which direction you turn, no matter where you walk, you are face to face with some reminder of what you don't have. What you are unable to do.

MIL not only invited us to church, but two of her nephews, their significant others, and a whole mess of their kids. Six kids under six, to be more specific. All beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed children. They are sweet kids, and I do not begrudge their existence in the least.

However, watching MIL laugh with them and coo over them was difficult. I cannot even express in words how I want so badly for her to be oogling over her own grandbaby, not these substitute grandchildren.

So the combination of me not wanting to be there and the gobs of adorable children around really affected my mood. Then the sermon starts. Sing songs, say hi to your neighbor, blah blah. The preacher gets up and asks if anyone has good news they'd like to share. It's quiet for a few minutes, and then a lady raises her hand.

"We are expecting our third child! Due in November," says the random fertile. She is all smiles. Everyone ooohs and ahhhhs and applauds. Oh how lovely. I wanted to raise my hand and tell them how it's National Infertility Awareness Week. I don't have the balls, however.

So we continue on with the service. The preacher gets in to his main act which is basically telling the congregation to look for Jesus in every day life and in people. Then he really goes for the gold. He walks down off the stage/pulpit/whatever and walks up to the first row. He grabs up a little tiny baby, dressed in frilly pink with a giant flower on a white headband attached to her head.

"Do you see Jesus in this little precious baby? Oh I love the fuzziness of baby hair. How precious is this little gift? Do you see Jesus here?"

Did I see Jesus there? Nope. I saw failures and questions and no answers and the loss of hope.

He walks around and makes a random guy stand up, and talks about how Random Guy always smiles and is friendly to everyone. He does the whole "Do you see Jesus in Random Guy?" thing. Then he walks back another row.

This time, he finds a young woman and asks her to stand up. She is amazingly pregnant. Beautiful pregnant belly. She is glowing. He pats her belly, and talks about the precious gift, etc. I actually started tuning out his words, as my eyes were stinging from fresh hot tears.

This is when Buster tells me that it's ok, and that it's just a sick joke. You know what? It was a sick joke. It's both sick AND a joke that this is what I've become. So easily bristled by anything having to do with babies and pregnancy.

We left church in silence. I had nothing to say after that debacle.

After church I stopped home to change and headed over to the in-laws to help get brunch out. The 6 under 6 were there, and MIL was running around trying to keep them occupied and happy. She looked at me and said while laughing, "Are ya sure you want kids?"

Sigh.

"Yep. Not sure if we will be so lucky, though."

Then I walked inside. I know she was probably just trying to lighten it up for me and make me feel better. But all it did was make me feel worse.