This isn’t really a post for you, that is, for you, if, like the rest of us, you're having difficulty conceiving. It is a post for those people who use search terms like, “What do I say to my friend who can’t have a baby?” and end up here.
First, let me say, well done for even thinking about it. Thanks for trying to be sensitive.
Secondly, think about these statements:
• My friend’s sister has blue eyes and she has perfect eyesight. So I’m sure you will be fine.
<b>On embryo transfer day, you're pregnant and the world is your oyster.</b>
Some children (and maybe adults for that matter) imagine what it would be like to be Queen for a Day. Can you imagine? To be rich, to have people bowing down at your feet! Dressed in a purple robe, seated on a throne studded with diamonds! Can you imagine your scepter in hand, waving in the air, making royal decrees for all your subjects to follow? All eyes are on you, the Queen. The people envy you. The masses follow you. Oh, to be you.
<b>Finally, my husband is as keen to get the bun in the oven as I am!</b>
a blog by Liz
The husband knew I wanted kids all along. There was no option. (Ok, I say ‘all along’ but I didn’t lay this on him on the first date, or we wouldn’t be here today).
We got together when we were 18 so there was no time pressure. By 25 I wanted to know when we would start thinking about having children (not that I wanted one right then but I wanted some kind of plan). He was still petrified … but we struck a deal. We’d have a kid when I was 30.
<b>Is your infertility public knowledge? She talks. He doesn't . . .</b>
a blog by Jim and Joy
By now, you’ve probably guessed that I’m not very private. While many people I know marvel at my willingness to share private details of my life (in real life and in this blog), it just feels natural to me. I am simply unable to keep my feelings and experiences to myself. I often think about what it would be like to keep a secret. A couple of my friends are quite private, much more guarded than me. Sometimes I try to emulate them - I’ll coyly respond to questions about what I’ve been up to. But, to me, it feels like I’m betraying both my friendship and myself. Holding back just totally goes against my nature.
<b>Kate may have 8 kids and a TV show, but in marriage, <em>I'm</em> lucky.</b>
a blog by Pamela Jeanne
Pop culture and mainstream media have fixated for some time on parenting sitcoms, parenting challenges and parenting writ large. The message by association for infertile couples is if you don’t parent, you don’t exist.
Turn on the TV or pick up any magazine and we infertiles can’t help but feel, at times, like an alien from another planet. That’s why in recent years, my TV tastes have run to documentaries, indie films and historical dramas. Toss in some Brian Williams, Jon Stewart and 60 Minutes and I manage to stay up to date. Apparently, though, there’s now a plethora of programs obsessed with not just families, but super-sized families.
<b>On the IVF rollercoaster the biggest dip is awaiting the pregnancy test.</b>
a blog by murgdan
Anyone who tells you IVF isn’t a roller coaster of emotion is a dirty rotten liar. I’m here to tell you, it is a ride like no other. There are ups, downs, twists, turns, curves, dives and freefalls. At times you feel like you are moving ahead at warp speed, and at others there is the sensation you are spinning around in complete circles. The ride of my life might do me in before this is over.
Not drinking? Sneaking around the office? Weight gain? You're TTC, not pregnant.
a blog by Liz
You’ve stopped drinking alcohol. You sneak out of work on a fairly regular basis. Your weight is slowly creeping up.
You and I know that this is because you are trying your hardest to get pregnant. It is because of the interminable tests your doctors are running to try to figure out exactly why you aren’t managing to get pregnant. And the drugs you have been put on, coupled with a side-order of comfort eating, makes it harder to control your weight.
Sometimes I fantasize about applying for The Amazing Race. Part of it is the idea of escaping. I’d love to do something really dramatic to change my life. Also, Jim would be my teammate. We’d be gallivanting all over the globe, cracking up. I think about how Jim would feel if he had to watch me jump off a cliff or eat donkey doodie. He’d be proud! Ever since infertility became my reality, I’ve been this obsessed, depressed person. To have him see me able-bodied, smiling, FREE, would be excellent.
ONE (1). It only takes one. Sperm, that is. Well, yes, technically you just need one, but if your hubby had a sperm test that resulted in just one viable sperm that wouldn’t sound so reassuring. In fact, that would be considered totally and utterly infertile. The fact is, anything under 20 million sperm per millilitre is considered ‘abnormal.’
TWO (2). For most, that’s how many folk it takes to have a baby. But for the infertiles, it usually takes a few more. So far I’ve had nine different doctors (five of which have had a good poke about in my lady bits), and still no child to show for it.
First built in the mid-1970’s, this property has never been lived in, not even on a temporary basis! It has been actively marketed for 2 years and despite numerous viewings by keen sperms and infrequent visits by eggs, it has yet to find suitable tenants. It is currently undergoing a thorough clean out with the Coil cleaning company – a six month procedure - and is expected to be back on the market and available to rent from July 2009.