Blessingways and THOSE comments

Over the weekend I attended a Blessingway for a friend who is pregnant with her third child.  I had never heard of a Blessingway before.  Here is a link that describes it: http://pregnancy.about.com/cs/blessingway/a/aa102202a.htm

Basically, it is a celebration for a new life.  We were all asked to bring a bead along with a blessing or a poem to give to the mother.  She plans to string them together when she goes into labor and will be able to think about all of the supportive women in her life.  We also tied some yarn around our wrists in a circle (so that we were all connected).  Then we cut it apart and kept the string tied around our wrists.  Everytime we see the string, we are supposed to think of the mother and send positive thoughts/prayers her way.  We keep them on until the baby is born.  

It's actually a very cool concept, and if I were able to get pregnant, I would much rather have that, than a traditional baby shower.  I despise baby showers.  I knew all of the women there, except for one, the host's sister.

We took turns giving our bead and reading our blessing or poem.  I felt very awkward about this, since I know nothing of pregnancy, childbirth, "being a woman in that sense", etc.  The sister that I didn't know, I'll call her S, went after me.  Her blessing was beautiful.  It also made me sad in a way that I haven't been in a while.  She talked about how she never felt true unconditional love until she had children.  You know, all of those things that mothers say.  And I'm sure they're true.  But it made me feel like I was an imposter there.  Witnessing something that I shouldn't have.  Almost like I was standing outside on my tiptoes looking through the window and hoping not to be spotted and kicked out.  Which is crazy.  I was invited to the party.  All of the women there (besides S) know my history of failed IVFs.  

When I first arrived, S asked if I had any children.  I told her no and left it at that.  I've gotten to the point where if people ask me, I'll tell them no, and then tell them that we can't have children.  No point in hiding it.  But I didn't feel that it was the appropriate place to get into that kind of discussion.  Later on, I was asked about the adoption stuff and if anything else new had happened (it hasn't).  Then S piped up.  She said the dreaded, "well you know, you always hear those stories of women who adopt and then later on get pregnant".  I literally had to stop my eyes from rolling.  I quoted from Mel when I responded to her:

Want to know the statistical rate of those diagnosed with infertility who conceive after adopting? As stated in my book, Navigating the Land of If, the number is 8%. Want to know the statistical rate for those diagnosed with infertility who conceive without fertility treatments and without adopting? Also 8%.

Obviously, I didn't say that exactly, just quoting from one of her posts.  We had a lengthy discussion about the different reasons for infertility, and how adoption isn't a cure.  And how offensive that is in the first place, to suggest that someone adopt and then they'll get pregnant.  I told her that our chances of getting pregnant on our own, with no intervention is about .002%.  Yes, it's possible, but I'm not counting on it.  

So I left feeling a bit sad, but also proud of myself, that I stood up and gave someone facts about infertility instead of seething on the inside while they blathered on and repeated myths.  

Later that day, I emailed the host and apologized if I was rude.  The adoption comment is one I hear so many times and it sets me off when I hear it.  She emailed me back and said that she cringed on the inside when her sister said that and was so glad that I was able to set her straight and educate her with facts.  I have some friends who are really ignorant to this whole process, but I'm so glad that I have some that really get it and I can be honest with.