Why is it that when can't have something, it's suddenly everywhere? It's like when you go on a diet, then all you can think about is warm, gooey, chocolate brownies with ice cream. So it is with me and babies.
Before I acquired my Infertile label, I was indifferent to babies, pretty much. I mean, I recognised that they were cute and everything, but I didn't feel a painful yearning deep in my gut every time I got a gummy smile from a chubby baby sitting next to me on the train, bouncing on it's proud mother's lap. Maybe it's partly due to the fact that my biological clock is ticking, ever louder, inside my head. Sometimes I even think other people can hear it. They can certainly hear me droning on about how sad I am to be going through the trauma of infertility, even if I do try to mask it with humour and flippant remarks.
I'm trying not to let my situation turn me into one of those bitter, twisted women, but it's a daily struggle. Everywhere I look, there are heavily pregnant women rubbing their huge round bumps and gazing into the middle distance dreamily, thinking about booties and what colour to paint the nursery.
When I returned to work recently after our 6 month sabbatical and went to meet my new team I was greeted by a 6 month pregnant girl beaming happily. It's not her fault I can't have children of course, but I still couldn't help but groan inwardly at the thought of being her manager and making small talk about her impending joy. Being a 33 year old married woman, there are also the inevitable questions as to when I'LL be starting a family, and I deflect them in a carefree, maybe in a year or two, way, when inside I'm screaming at them to shutup,shutup,shutup!!
The other day I was about to board the tube when I saw that the only seat left was alongside yet another hugely preggers woman. I swiftly switched carriages and slid, relieved, into a seat, only to glance up at the adverts to face one for Pregnacare vitamins, a smiling, with-child model staring out at me, smirking almost. (God, I AM getting bitter.)
It doesn't help that my job involves selling natural remedies and skincare products, often to mothers-to-be. I smile sweetly and give them the best and most thorough advice I can, silently praying that one day it'll be me asking excitedly about nappy creams and rasberry leaf tea.
The only consolation is that being surrounded by all these fatties, my barren stomach has never looked so flat in comparison. I know they're not really fat, but it consoles me, just for a moment.
I glance around at all these fecund, glowing pregnant women. I am the weakest link. Goodbye.