An Infertile In Preggo's Clothing

Hey Bleeps, happy Friday.  Has World Cup Soccer fever hit you or your significant other?  Adam has been watching all the soccer previews and match-ups... but to the best of my knowledge he's never even played soccer!  In any event, go USA!  And go South Africa (got to root for the home team)!

So yesterday, I had an ultrascreen.  I wasn't terribly familiar with what this procedure would be, I only knew they do it around 12-14 weeks and its meant to check for birth defects.  They did a quick tummy-ultrasound, and then poked my finger and took three large drops of blood and put it on paper.  Relatively easy.

But the test itself wasn't what stuck out for me yesterday.  The office I went to only does this sort of thing, and so the lobby was full of pregnant women.  Many were very obviously pregnant women, with a much more obvious belly than my own, mostly non-existent one.  They were all talking to one another, chatting about due dates.  Some even had small children with them, playing with each other.  It seemed like this adorable little mother's club.

And I felt like a complete impostor.

That's the word that kept reverberating within me... "Impostor". 

I know it sounds strange, I guess I'm as equally knocked up as they are.  But I felt like I had a sign over my head in bright flashing lights, "Infertile! Infertile!" with arrows pointing downward.  Of course no one knew this about me.  I'm sure I just looked like any other person, waiting for their test.  I was a little out of sorts, since I arrived late to the appointment due to being given bad directions.  And then, once I got there, I couldn't find my insurance card.  I sat in the lobby and practically dumped my purse out on to my lap, trying to find it. 

Once again, I felt like women were (well, should be) rolling their eyes at me, "oh those Infertiles! Don't know what they're doing!"  Again, of course, no one was actually doing that.  Well, maybe they were... but just at my overall lack of organization. 

I looked around the room at all these happy faces, and wondered if and when I would ever feel like that.  It was so easy for me to laugh at my infertility... yes, it was a lot of pain for so many years.  But I felt comfortable there, I knew what to expect from it.  I could have a sense of humor about it. 

Now I'm in uncharted territory.  And I feel like I'm a stranger in a strange land.  I'm getting to the end of the first trimester--a landmark that I had almost convinced myself would never come.  So why can't I settle in?  Why do I still feel like an Infertile in maternity clothing?