You, Me, and the Ficus Tree

Last night I went to choir practice. It was fine. The Christmas music is gorgeous and for that reason alone I think I'll be back. It'll be nice to sing something that delightful. But honestly, it taxed my little introvert's soul more than I thought it would. I'm not sure exactly when I lost all semblance of social skills, but apparently they, like Elvis, have left the building. I sat there, like a lump on a log, and tried to smile and engage the ladies next to me in conversation but they would say something like, "We're new to the area, have you been here long?" Which left me without a nice follow up question to try and extend the conversation. See, normal people ask simply, "Have you lived here long?" So that the terrified introvert next to you can say, "Blah blah blah blah, what about you?" giving them an opening into the next conversational volley. When you answer the expected question prior to asking the same, you leave the other person mentally scrambling for something clever that doesn't have to do with the weather ("Muggy enough for you?") or completely random/bordering on inappropriate ("I see dead people!"). In the case of the introvert, this results in long pauses that are generally mistaken for a lack of interest in continuing the conversation. And thus I find myself finally coming up with something to say several minutes after whomever I had been talking to has rambled off to find someone more interesting to talk to. Like the ficus in the corner.

One person who I at least know on a passing basis (and who is a raging extrovert) did introduce me to several people. This is something like being thrown into the middle of a swirling hurricane of names. "Oh, Beth, do you know MelissaJillMariaAntoniaMaryJaneandKaren?" "Um no. Hi." Smiles all around. Then the extrovert has whirled off elsewhere and one or two of the more stalwart attempt conversation until awkward pauses commence. But hey, the ficus got a lot of extra attention and I hear talking to plants is good for them.

I left feeling not a little overwhelmed and fairly certain that at 35 I ought to be better at this than I am.

So it was with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I realized that I had agreed to go to a mom's get together brunch thingy this morning. Two days in a row of trying to get to know people is not the best recipe for anything other than severe indigestion. But I had said I would go, so go I went.

The ladies seem nice. A few of them I even recognized from choir practice. And so I gained just a tad more confidence and tried to insinuate myself into some conversations (while also trying to chase the child about and keep him from destroying the hostess' lovely home). There were several ladies there with children about the kiddo's age, but they all have other children considerably older and thus all conversation turned to school. Still, I teach and am interested in all things educational...and hey, I've been to school...so I thought I might have something to add. It seems, however, that there are the homeschooling moms and the public schooling moms and while they didn't see outwardly hostile, it was clear that never the twain shall meet. One group would sit in the living room and chat, then, en masse, move to the kitchen and the other would migrate from the kitchen to the living room.

So I hovered on the edges, chasing the boy away from all the breakables and listened. And this is when I realized that even now that I have a child, it's unlikely that I'll ever get over the stigma of infertility. Because as I tried to convince the boy that he didn't need to try and fit himself into the infant carrier someone brought in, I overheard the following:

"She's my youngest. We did infertility treatments for the first two, but then I decided that I had enough faith to have a child and a year later, here she is."

I'm sure it wasn't intended as a slap to people who didn't find that any combination of medical science and/or faith were enough to result in a baby. Or at least, I want to be sure. But I'm not - because then everyone jumped in with their "Oh...I have a friend who" stories. (These are the tried and trite "Just relax", "Start the adoption process" etc. stories. If you don't know them, count yourself blessed.) And it was all I could do not to scream.

And so I quietly gathered up our things and said our goodbyes and worked my way out the door, because while I apparently have no faith, I definitely had had enough.