11:44am: We’re down in the South Island at what I’ve affectionately titled “The Wedding of the Year”. An easy title to give it turns out as it’s the ONLY wedding we have on this year. The setting is amazing! Nestled amongst the epic mountains that only the South Island can provide, next to the stunningly blue Lake Ohau, in a rugged but fantastic lodge generally occupied in the winter by snow bunnies and in the summer (now) by various tourists and Contiki groups. It’s epic. I’ve been quite anxious about this wedding. Despite looking forward to it and to the weekend away necessitated by it, I can’t help but worry that it will be a repeat of the last wedding we attended just over a year ago.
You may recall it as I wrote about it here on Waiting for Bumble. It was a disaster and I still to this day feel unbelievably guilty about how things played out. For those who don’t know about it, I basically had a complete meltdown just after the ceremony. It was only a few weeks after our second failed IVF cycle (a cycle that, being a reflector I hadn’t yet dealt with emotionally) and the day after the end of our holiday (post-holiday blues). I turned up at the house we were sharing with two other couples to find that not one but both of the girls in those relationships were pregnant. One I knew about, one I didn’t. Total slap in the face. Add into that the other 30 or so people at the wedding who were either pregnant or had young children, and it was a recipe for disaster.
The tears started rolling down my face about 10 mins after the ceremony ended and I just couldn’t stop them. My hubby and I walked away to the other end of the venue to find some space away from the babies so I could try and compose myself, and they just followed us. It felt like intentional torture although I know those people had no idea of the pain I was suffering and what I was trying to escape. Needless to say I couldn’t get it under control, things only got worse, and I ended up walking back to our accommodation in uncontrollable heartbroken sobs before packing my belongings and driving the hour home alone. I missed the reception. An empty space sat awaiting me at a table and I was nowhere to be seen. So unbelievably rude and something I feel no end of guilt about, but I keep trying to remind myself it was better that than have been creating a scene by bawling for hours in the middle of what was supposed to be a happy occasion.
So I’ve been trying my best to prepare myself for this one. I’ve been pep-talking myself on a daily basis, reminding myself of what will be surrounding me, and trying to build my emotional armour ready for the big day. To add a bit of extra pressure, many of the guests at this wedding are the same as those who attended last year’s debacle. I’m going to have to be mighty strong to avoid a repeat of last year.
So far I’m holding up ok. We’ve been here 24 hours and the onslaught of babies and baby talk has been relentless. It’s like swimming in the ocean a little way out of your depth and having wave upon wave crash over your head trying to suck you down. You gasp as you come up for air, steadying yourself, but never quite recovering before the next wave hits. But I’m doing ok. A small moment last night where I thought I might drown but I managed to haul myself back to the surface with the help of my life-raft of a husband. I can do this, WE can do this.
The wedding is this afternoon, party tonight, brunch tomorrow morning then it’s done. We’ll see how we go. I do love hanging out with these guys so hopefully that’s enough to pull me through. Stay tuned.
1:32pm: Ouch it gets worse. One of the girls in our group is pregnant and the nickname for the 13 week old foetus growing inside her? Bumble Bee. Could life get any more cruel?
2:30pm: Starting to get ready. I can hear all the kids playing in the games room next door.
Approx 9:15pm: I’m doing ok. There are a fair few mentions of kids (the bride and groom have a ten-month old) and quite a few comments on ‘Bumble Bee’ but I’m coping. I can totally do this.
Approx 12:15am: One of the bridesmaids pops over to introduce herself, despite having met her the night before. She’s a little drunk. We exchange names and she asks if M is my husband. Then comes the dreaded question, “Do you have kids?” I’m ready for it, “No” I say and smile. I think we’re done but no, she launches into a tirade. “Oh that is the absolute best time, I mean it’s great having kids, I have a two year old, but that stage you’re at now is just awesome. There’s just the two of you and you can enjoy each other’s company and it’s just great, you make the most of it”. It went on, but you get the gist. I nod and smile and try to terminate the conversation. I may come across as a bit rude but it’s all I can do not too lose it. I know she means well and for any normal person that would probably be a lovely thing to say but for an infertile who’s spent two days bombarded with baby talk and four years trying to have kids, it’s less than ideal. She leaves and I spend the next half hour clenching my teeth so hard my jaw hurts and digging my fingernails into my hands to try and distract my mind from the mental torment, frantically clutching at my insides in an effort not to fall to pieces. I make it, just.
1:24am: I’ve done it, WE’VE done it. My life-raft of a husband has pulled me through. The dance floor is slowly clearing out and it’s a respectable hour to head to bed. Thank goodness cause I’m exhausted. A gorgeous wedding, an AMAZING wedding, but one filled with more than it’s fair share of emotional triggers for this lil infertile.