So as most of you know, I’m a humor writer. This means that I’m a professional highly-trained in making smart-ass remarks. Look how good I am at it, even my job description to you contained a smart-ass remark. My entire life, I’ve never been able to help myself from doing it so I finally gave in and made a career of it. That’s why I’m no good on Facebook. People beg you for sympathy and support. Look, my friend Shannon whom I adore posted that she lost 133 pounds. Only she accidentally wrote “ponds”instead of “pounds” so of course everyone else wrote: “Good job!” and “Way to Go!” and I had to write: “Was that water weight, Shannon?” instead of letting it go like a normal person. (I’ve probably been un-friended by more people on FB than anyone else.) So in honor of “Let’s Hear it for the Boys… and their ‘boys'” month, when it comes to male infertility, I thought it best if I just shut-up and let a medical professional tell you some important stuff with some great links to more important stuff… instead of a smart-ass professional telling you why it’s funny… which of course it isn’t. Continue reading
Helen Adrienne is a well-respected therapist in NYC who specializes in individuals and couples dealing with infertility. So what you’ll be getting from her today will be tried and true sound advice unlike the smart-ass remarks you typically get from me. She talks about both men who have their own fertility issues as well as men dealing with an infertile wife who’s turned into a nutjob. (I don’t think Helen actually uses the word “nutjob” though, but I know from personal experience, that’s exactly what you turn into.)
Yes– This month– Let’s Hear it for the Boys…. and this week- Philip Cottraux. (I’ll tell you who he is in a minute. Everyone’s so impatient nowadays.)
Women dealing with infertility publicly torment themselves and each other with the torture that is mother’s day. But what about the men and father’s day? Do you think like I think that just because they’re not publicly announcing their anguish doesn’t mean they don’t feel it? Or is this just a woman’s view of what a man is feeling? Are they all like my husband whom I begged and pleaded to “let out all of his bottled up emotions” to which he replied following my ten minute-long tirade: “What are you even talking about”?
So for the next couple of weeks, this here Laughing IS Conceivable blog is going to be all about the boys… and their “boys”. From first-hand accounts from a man with fertility issues who is also the support person for his wife with fertility issues, to a man and adoption, to a therapist talking about the emotional and psychological aspects for a guy dealing with this, to a fertility lab director giving some great technical male fertility info, to an essay where I compare my relationship to my husband to my relationship with my Dad. How could that go wrong? So let me shut up for once, and get you right over to my new cyber friend, Philip Cottraux. So let’s hear it for the boys! I love his story– and this is it:
These blog posts leading up to Father’s Day are dedicated to all of the guys trapped in this infertility adventure with us and especially to Philip Cottraux whom I’ve never met in person but I’m pretty sure bears no resemblance whatsoever to Homer Simpson.
I love when Judge Judy has a case where a woman is suing her ex and going on and on about how irresponsible and useless he is. Judge Judy’s response is always the same:
“So what do you want from me? You picked him!”
The vast majority of infertility blog readers are women, likely because the vast majority of infertility blog writers are women. I’m sure that comes as a huge surprise to not one person. There are a lot of daddy bloggers now, but not nearly as many writing about infertility. I guess there a lot more guys proud of their kids than their low-sperm count. Go figure.
Infertile women generally have a short agenda when we blog or post on social networks: Continue reading
Dedicated to the men and women who risk their lives every day protecting the Countries they serve.
(Whom do YOU want to grill? See details below.)
For those of you not in the U.S., our Memorial Day weekend is a time to commemorate all of the men and women of the armed forces who have lost their lives serving our Country.
Then there’s the “other” Memorial Day weekend. While thousands gather at ceremonies to honor those courageous men and women, thousands of others gather around beaches, barbecue grills and shopping malls to honor their ability to sit in traffic for five hours to get to a beach forty-five minutes a way, to drink their weight in beer- a feat which is then celebrated by shooting off fireworks or a body part, to eat twice their weight in potato salad, and to trample other bargain-hunters at the mall in hopes of scoring a “buy one, get one free” bra.
I thought it would be nice to bid a fond farewell to Halloween 2016 with a few Infertility Horror Stories… spooky, spooky, stories. (Not real infertility horror stories… I mean, come on. Who needs more of those? And it’s a humor blog for crying out loud.)
My biggest Halloween scare this year was at Walmart. I was in there on Halloween, trying to get to the Halloween candy and had to maneuver around an employee and his crotch that were up on a ladder putting up posters with elves and candy canes.
So now, assuming you can get that image out of your head… Everyone gather in a circle, turn off the lights, get those smoke machines going, and those flashlights under your chins…(Flashlights, not buttercups…nobody cares who likes butter right now.) …And let the infertility horror stories begin.
Read on… if you daaaaare. Continue reading
Whoever came up with the idea of building houses in North Carolina that run solely on electrical power must have been out of their minds…. So there I am in the wake of Hurricane Matthew, sitting in my dark bedroom for the second day, staring at my TV, not watching my football game that, according to my blank clock on the cable box, had started without me, waiting for a team of strangers lurking somewhere out there in the night to flip a switch, duck tape a wire hanger to a post or super glue something so I could get on with my life.
What if what they’re doing doesn’t work and they have to start all over again? What if the person working on my case, isn’t the right one for my situation and doesn’t know what they’re doing? What if what they think is the problem turns out not to be the problem at all? What if this goes on for a really long time? What if everyone else around me has their situation resolved and I’m the only one left? Am I supposed to go on with my life as usual as though everything was normal? How can I still go to work, get along with my husband, deal with my friends, deal with my family (who are a trying group to begin with), have fun, laugh like nothing’s wrong… when I’m so emotionally and physically tired and it feels like my whole life is turned upside down?
Wait. Waaaaait a minute. This feels eerily familiar.
Didn’t I feel just like this while I was going through infertility? It was the Hurricane of ’05. Hurricane IVF. I remember it well. Continue reading
Nowadays, there isn’t much Infertility Reality TV in my life. What I mean is: My reality TV time is usually taken up by Project Runway, Top Chef and other shows that invite me in to marvel at extremely talented people being successful at things that I can’t do at all and have no desire to be better at. But in years past, before I traded my angst-filled, conflict-driven evening of entertainment for kinder, gentler pre-bedtime fare, I used to tune in to watch the Real Housewives of wherever.
The Infertility Ditch. I’ve been in it many times. In fact, for a while, I spent so much time down there, I furnished it. Some people have a beach house. I had my infertility ditch. At some point between the diagnosis of infertility and the final resolution, we all drive ourselves into the infertility ditch. Some of us back out of it faster than others. Some of us drive ourselves in and out of it, in and out of it, in and out of it, over and over again the whole time.