This morning on my way into work, I realised that it didn't hurt me as much as it usually does, when I saw the usual collection of pregnant women on the train. I acknowledged it and felt a little bit peaceful about it. Then, my recently married friend messaged me to re-arrange a dinner because the date currently scheduled is during her ovulation week and they've started trying to conceive. Unexpectedly, it was like someone had slapped me. For the past few years, I've been surrounded by a barrage of friends and relations getting pregnant at the drop of a hat. Thankfully, it has tailed off a bit now that the babies are all here and I thought the worst of it was over. I was wrong. I haven't replied to my friend yet because the thought of sharing someone else's journey of trying to conceive and probably getting pregnant within a few short months, the subsequent pregnancy etc just makes me feel like I want to crawl under a rock and hide. Infertility seems to have become a permanent elephant in the room, always there just dragging me down, some days more forcefully than others. The gift that keeps on giving.