IVF is the New Prada

a blog by Infertile Naomi, June 24, 2010

On a recent trip to Los Angeles, I was sitting in a café when two extremely fashionable and deliciously put together women sat down behind me. Blond Woman A looked like she stepped out of a fashion magazine and Brunette Lady B gracefully looked over the café menu like she was posing for a model shoot. I noticed that each had more shopping bags of clothing and accessories than I had in my entire closest.

As the women ordered their low-fat skim milk lattés (and I gulped back my high-fat creamy beverage), I eagerly tilted my head so I could eavesdrop on their exciting and glamorous lifestyles. The two started chatting about their recent shoe purchases and then, off-the-cuff, Blondie announces that she is going for a spa treatment following her IVF procedure next week.

“My IVF transfer’s in the morning and I’m thinking of booking a mani and pedi in the afternoon.” Blondie mentions.

“Good idea.” Brunette friend says. “I’m going to book a massage the week of my egg retrieval.”

Now, I’m a good old-fashioned girl from Toronto, and you don’t typically hear people talking openly about the taboo topics of infertility and IVF in a public café. I was intrigued and almost jumped into the conversation saying “Hey. I’m part of the infertile club too!” But I restrained myself.

The two went on to loudly compare their fertility medications, who had a better doctor and how so-and-so got pregnant naturally after trying an alternative acupuncturist. They chatted about all the celebrities who have gone through fertility treatments, including singer Celine Dion (“Six IVFs, bless her heart”) and those who they think they saw (but weren’t 100 percent sure) in the waiting room of their clinic. While I sat there in the café, it felt like infertility was the next big trend in Tinsel Town. It was like Infertility and IVF were the new Prada, and everyone wanted to try it out like it was the next big Botox treatment.

If infertility were cool, I would be very happy being part of the unpopular crowd.

But then something happened that showed me that a woman dealing with infertility is the same in all places. A pregnant woman walked into the café and the three of us turned to look. With a similar sadness and envy in our eyes, Blondie and Brunette got up to leave, with excess bags in hand.

Hollywood or not. Money or not. Celebrity or not. The heartache of infertility seems to be universal.