Outed at the Chocolate Party

Okay, so I totally wasn't kidding about the stuffing myself with chocolate yesterday. A friend of mine had invited me to a chocolate tasting shindig where the hostess was going to have us try different types of chocolate bars she had created and film our reactions and thoughts about them.

It was a ton of fun, and I found out quickly that pretty much everything goes with dark chocolate: sriracha, jalapeno salt, candied ginger, wasabi peas...not altogether, of course. Or maybe altogether...hmm... I was told that I am a "chocolate masochist" who likes a little darkness and spice and burn and bitterness in her chocolate - I wonder if this is a metaphor for what I've been attracting in my life...

Anyway, one of the tasters brought her new 3-month-old baby to the party, and there was the usual oohing and ahhing. (He was pretty cute - a redhead!) Of course, talk turns to "When are you going to have a baby?" and "How long have you been married?"

I demurred on the baby thing as best I could ("Yeah, we want kids." and "Boy, my in-laws ask me that all the time!"). I'm okay talking about IF to friends and family, but not a party full of cheerful strangers eating chocolate.

But I must have set someone's IF-radar off, because the next thing I know, the hostess is sitting next to me, and she says quietly, "Yeah, I've been married 5 years, and we have had trouble having a child."

And before you know it, we are sharing our stories in low and hushed voices while everyone else is bustling about trying chocolate and cooing over the baby. I talk about Clomid, she talks about ectopic pregnancies, we exchange impressions and thoughts about adoption.

Except for blogging, this is the first time I have ever actually talked to someone about IF who was going through the same thing and knew what it was all about. None of the asinine advice or awkward sympathy, just a mutual sharing and condoling. I had no idea how cathartic that would feel.

One of the hardest things about IF is the isolation. I am by most measures an introvert, someone who craves time alone and enjoys solitude. I have often prided myself on my ability to be alone without feeling lonely, but IF has completely changed that for me. The pain of the experience has humbled me, taught me to reach out, to share my feelings, and to seek solace in a community of peers.

So ladies, thank you for being there. Really. (Here comes the tearing up. It's the Clomid...really...)

It's just the start of ICLW and already your comments have gone such a long way to easing that loneliness that was starting to take root. It's bad enough having that hole in your life where a baby should be - I feel blessed to have people around me making sure that hole doesn't get any bigger.

And now for something completely different...

I swear I am not making these up, but yesterday before I went to bed, I said to myself, "If you're going to have a whacked out dream, make sure it's a good one so I can entertain the blog readers." And what did I get?

I am in college, and I have a mad crush on my male roommate. We are good friends and go watersliding together. (I mean, how cool is it to have waterslides at my imaginary college?) Just when I think things might finally heat up between us, he pulls me aside and tells me he has to leave town to complete a mission involving the Cold War and asks me to stay safe. Who is my roommate? Why, Jason Bourne, of course!