Royal baby? Why I won't be a hater.

I read this article from IVFBabble.com today about 'coping with the Royal baby news when you're struggling with infertility' and it got me thinking. Why do we spend our lives comparing ourselves to others? We might as well just run naked into the street and flagellate ourselves with a big stick.

There are people who are perpetually dissatisfied with life. Because (IMHO), they benchmark their lives through the lens of what they don't have vs. what others do have. If your glass is always half empty, no matter what you have going for you, can you ever truly be happy?

When I had my first miscarriage, I was determined that I would never become THAT woman - you know, the one that finds it excruciating to be happy for other people's baby news. My first pregnancy overlapped with Kate & Wills' first pregnancy. Closer to home, a friend of a friend gave birth to her baby girl two months before my baby should have been born. That baby is now five years old and started school this year, just like Prince George. Of course I think about my loss in relation to their happiness. BUT I refuse, even now - five years, six unsuccessful IVFs and one further miscarriage later, to let my sadness get the better of me. I'M NOT THAT PERSON.

With my second pregnancy, exactly three years after my first, I was convinced, with good reason, it was twins. Around the same time that I miscarried, TWO of my friends announced they were 12 weeks along, with twins. GREAT. Honestly the bereft feelings I already had were amplified; wondering why my pregnancy had ended when others around me seemed to find it so easy. My use of the word seemed is intentional. One thing I've learned in my 44 years is that no-one has a perfect life. We all sheath our sadness behind a brave face. We just 'keep calm and carry on'. And that's what I intend to keep doing.

Don't get me wrong, it's got harder and harder to keep a smile on. Yes, it hurts to see pregnant women everywhere I look. Especially when they constantly rub their bumps in front of me, oblivious to the acute pain it causes. I don't advocate bottling up the grief and sadness either. Indeed I found outlets that worked for me - channelling my grief through like-minded friends, my counsellor and my new passion for running. Of course, there have been times when I've found it near-impossible to be happy for other pregnant people (especially when it's someone I don't like, is that normal???). And I've had many a dark thought - "why did my baby die and not theirs?" I'm only human. But, despite this, I've always managed to pick myself up and remember that I am blessed with good fortune in so many ways - and my baby journey isn't over yet. My route to motherhood (fingers crossed, touch wood, insert superstitious anti-jinxer here) may not be conventional but I hope that one day it's me who is pregnant. And, if that day ever arises, rest assured I will be sensitive to the many women who are still on the journey.