I’m going to start this out with a letter every woman struggling with infertility wants to send…
Dear Fertility God, Regular God, Mother Nature, or To Whom It May Concern (including Oprah),
understand that you’re busy. You have large responsibilities and a lot
of things going on right now. I understand if you’re working on the oil
spill, curing diseases and figuring who will take over for Oprah Winfrey
after she leaves the network. I get it. You’re busy. But listen. There
are a lot of us out there who really want to be mothers and we know we
would make very good parents. We have gotten a taste of infertility (and
it tastes awful) but we are ready to move forward to a pregnancy and a
baby. We know that infertility has made us stronger and more sensitive,
and we promise that we will cherish our babies every single day and give
hope to others struggling with infertility.
But seriously, Fertility
God/Mother Nature, infertility is making us weird. We spend too many
hours staring at the toilet paper, charting our basal temperature,
googling our fake pregnancy symptoms and crying at baby showers. We use
words like “ovulation” and “cervical mucus” like they are apart of
normal conversation. Infertility is truly making us weird and we aren’t
weird people. Just pointing out that it doesn’t serve society well when
people are weird.
Mother Nature, from one mother to another, you know
a lot about fertilization and we could really use that knowledge right
about now. Next time, you fertilize something, consider throwing a
little soil our way. Thank you for your consideration.
Whew! That feels better. I’ve been wanting to write that letter for a long time.
know, the infertile woman is not like everyone else. There are lots of
things that make her different from a woman who can pop out kid after
kid without even trying. The infertile woman is probably the only person
in the world that can go into a bathroom and return in tears or leave
doing a happy pee pee dance.
To normal fertile people, the bathroom
is a place where you do your business and leave neither happy nor sad.
To an infertile person, the toilet experience can either make you or
break you. You may walk into that bathroom stall happy and singing and
come out with swollen eyes and a runny nose. You either (a) got your
period (leading to extreme unhappiness and an emotional breakdown OR a
little happiness if you hadn’t seen your flow since 1999 and joyful she
has returned; or (b) saw traces of blood a week prior to your period and
feel semi-excited/confused that it might be implantation bleeding; or
(c) you have wiped clear which brings a private grin to your face.
my advice…never have a co-worker or friend wait for you at the sink.
You may go into the stall as her perky pal Patty but you are leaving as
hysterical and hyperventilating Helen. And who really wants to explain
to a co-worker why you just left the toilet in tears? “Wow. That was
really a big one. It really hurt to get out.” You might explain as you
blow your nose with toilet paper. Because with one trip to the bathroom
you can go from no drinking, all healthy food, and no coffee to a bottle
of wine, french fries dipped in alcohol, and half a pot of Joe.
don’t even get me started on Facebook. Hey Facebook Friend, although
I’ve enjoyed the thousands of pictures of your growing belly, your
ultrasound photos and your babies first poopie diapers, for the love of
God, PLEASE STOP!!!!!!
I may politely comment on my fertile friend’s
daily status updates and maternity photos, but here are some things I
would rather say instead…
FB Friend, I may have commented that your belly looks great but I really meant you look like a fatty!
FB Friend, your 3D ultrasound is just plain scary!
FB Friend, stop posting photos of your babies. They aren’t that cute. At least you won’t have to worry about future boyfriends!
FB Friend, you are right. Your ankles do look fat!
FB Friend, I don’t need daily updates about your pregnancy!
FB Friend, it’s unfortunate that your baby looks so much like your husband.
FB Friend, my frozen embryos are cuter than your fetus.
FB Friend, I’ll listen to you talk about your mucus plug if you’ll listen to me discuss my cervical mucus.
Friend, I love you but I am a sensitive and vulnerable woman who needs a
little bit of extra support and hugs right now. And I also know that
one day, I might post My belly and kid pictures too, just with a little
You know what else is fun for a woman struggling
with infertility? Playing the “Let’s count the pregnant women” game.
Betcha can’t count just one! There’s one… There’s one… There’s one… Oh
wait. She’s just fat. Thank goodness.
Every time I leave the house,
it feels like every single pregnant woman on earth decides to walk past
me. Every place I turn, someone’s pregnant, sporting a baby bump,
pushing a stroller or even worse, pushing a stroller with a baby inside
AND holding onto a toddler’s hand. How come she gets two babies when I
can’t even get one?! It’s a super fun game to play because you can
either play it at a baby shower or every single time you leave your
house! Walking down the street – there’s a bump. Going to the grocery
story – there’s a fertile in the pickle aisle. At the gym – hey look,
it’s pregnancy fit hour. Neat!
I sometimes wish I could just carry a
sign that read ‘I’m feeling lonely. Any other infertile’s in the crowd?
If so, wave your ovulation sticks.’ But if you want to know if there are
any other infertile’s out there, just look at her eyes. She will be
glaring at a pregnant belly.
Damn. It’s a full time job being this bitter and jealous all of the time.
life is giving me lots of reasons to cry about infertility, I figured
it was only fair I gave myself some reasons to laugh! Sometimes, we just
have to say what's in our hearts. And while I truly don't dislike
seeing people rejoice in their pregnancies, I do feel lonely when I am
not able to do the same. The whole facebook thing is not how I really
feel...I really do love seeing people's families and babies. But at the
same time, each time someone announces their pregnancy or posts pictures
of their newborns, it just reminds me that I don't have any of it.
Writing this has made me feel better than I have in a long time…