Why Hast Thou Forsaken Us Former IF-Now-Parent-Blogger?

a blog by Alec, February 8, 2011

We hope for it, for ourselves and others. We pray for it, for ourselves and others. Survive IF. Have children. Start a family.

The thousands of bloggers occupying the infertility blogosphere also fight that fight, hope those hopes, and pray those prayers. We follow them through every agonizing setback.

Unfortunately, when some get to the other side, they become Parent bloggers and begin gushing about everything their kids do … conveniently forgetting their readers as they gush.

Face it IF-Turned-Parent bloggers! You're insensitive! You've forgotten the anguish of your IF readers — forgotten your OWN anguish! Need I remind you?

Perhaps I do …

Sometimes I remember the days when it was just me and the spouse and long for them. The freedom! Romance! Naughty nights! Also, it would be nice to be … cleaner. Here's an example:

Today I woke up to a strange sound over the baby monitor. "What is that?" I wondered. Upon entering the nursery, a smell strong enough to kill lab rats surrounded me.

"Which of you was it?" I asked the twins. Neither responded, of course.

Throwing caution to the winds, I went in. "Whew! Not just farts, eh?"

I smelled Dude's butt. Poop! I smelled Dudette's butt. Poop! I'm up to my eyeballs in poop. Poop! Poop! Poop! Fabulous, stinky, wonderful, sticky, awesome, smelly, amazing poop!

I change Dude's diaper, and he sticks his hand in the mess and wipes it on his face. SO CUTE!!! I kiss his brown crap-spattered cheek. Some of it gets on my lip but I lick it away. Did I make a face?

Dudette is next and she squirms, causing the dirty diaper to fall to the floor. Ah well, more #$%* stains on the carpet!

I'm thinking all through this dirty mess, life was never so wonderful. I'm in heaven. Heaven is made up of my twins.

I'm out of time, but next time I cannot wait to tell you about Dudette puking on me — 5 TIMES! So awesome!

Your stories about dirt, crap and puke do not mitigate the experience. IFers still and always want what you have. Your glee is like a knife twisting inside. So please, please, try to remember where you came from.