Musings on how IF is sort of like cotton candy

I am forever droning on and on about how IF has permanently changed me. I contend that it has changed me much more than finally being pregnant actually has. That's why I often sort of "forget" that I'm pregnant, and still sneer at big bellies with bitter jealousy.

I intentionally put the word forget in quotes there because I most certainly do not forget I'm pregnant -- too many physical reminders for that to actually happen at this point -- but it seems that my brain is a little slower on the uptake when it comes to finding a way to dissolve the feelings of jealousy, anger and that of being unjustly tortured.

I have, however, come up with at least one way that being pregnant has changed me. I have always organized the entries my bloglines according to Still Trying, Not Trying, or BFP. There are some overlay categories (Braces Bunch, Order of the Plastic Uterus / DC Bloggers, and Other), but the basic categories relate to their status regarding the p word.

Prior to becoming pregnant (or holding on to a pregnancy longer than most people keep a sinus infection) when I would head over to my bloglines, I would always read the Still Trying section first. I still do that, so no big change there. Here's where the change has come into play... Previously, when I would read those blogs, I would be looking for someone in my situation. Sistas who just got their BFN from yet another cycle, Sistas who were enduring miscarriages, etc. It's like I focused on those in misery because, well, I guess I wanted company.

Don't get me wrong, I was happy when someone got a BFP but it was so convoluted and mixed up with jealousy (not to mention that my reaction was tempered by the IF Pain Olympics and the Sliding Scale of Happiness) that it left me feeling conflicted and shitty. It was like an IF train wreck -- I didn't want to look because it made me feel like a pathetic failure, but I had to look because I care about these people and I do genuinely want them to get their hearts desires. Needless to say, it left me feeling sort of like I'd eaten cotton candy... it was yummy and sweet and I knew that it was supposed to make me feel good, but it also left me feeling empty and unfulfilled and disillusioned.

Now, it's different. When I head over to read my bloglines each day, I continue to start with the Still Trying section, but I am desperate to find someone with a BFP. I'm not one of those nutty pregnant chicks who wants everyone to all be pregnant together [insert twittering birds and Disney-esque music here], but I am ashamed to admit that I experience a more pure form of joy (is there such a thing as "unpure" joy?) when other Stirrup Queens get their two lines. It's like I can allow myself true, unabashed happiness for them now that I'm not wallowing in self-loathing, jealousy and other such nastiness.

I'm not entirely sure why I am writing about this topic. Clearly, from the choppy nature of the post and crappy flow of the writing, it's not a sentiment that I've worked through enough in my head. But I guess I'm bringing it up for two reasons:

1) to let my friends who are still in the trenches know that it really is okay to only pretend to be happy for other people's BFPs, or to genuinely be happy but not actually as overjoyed as your half-dozen exclamation points in the comments make you seem like you are

2) to ask other pregnant infertiles if they have experienced this emotional shift as well -- from half-dreading other people's BFPs to desperately seeking them out

Am I crazy? Most definitely. Am I alone in this demented way of thinking? Probably not, but it would be nice if you guys could tell me that I'm not a complete ogre or raging nutjob. Thanking you in advance...