The Infertility State Fair- Do I Have to Go Every Year?

Can you believe it’s Infertility State Fair time again already?! Let’s go everybody!

My husband and I have been going for the past three years. Our  admission ticket is $15,000, and that’s because we bought it online in advance.

The Infertility State Fair is the same every year. Everything is exactly in the same place as it was last year and the year before and ten years ago. And as predicted, the first thing we see is the first thing my husband wants to do: The Geico insurance tent. Yeah, yeah, we know the drill. We tell you we already have Geico insurance. You thank us. I ask: “So do you cover Clomid now? How about Follistim? How about the egg retrieval? How about the egg freezing?” The bored teen mumbles: “Ma’am, this is vehicle insurance” as she points us around the ropes towards the giant plastic container crammed with stuffed geckos just aching for me to guess how many are in there. “What if we do the butt shots in the car?!” I yell over my shoulder while writing “218” on the slip of paper. I always guess my birthday. Then we step into their truck and do karaoke Rolling Stones. “I can’t get no… satis-fac-tion!” an odd song option for an insurance company but how very apropos nonetheless.

Then onto the rides! IUI bumper cars. We get in. We go forward. We hit a wall. We back up. We go forward. We hit another wall. We back up again. We go forward. We hit that same wall again. We back up. We hit the first wall again. Ride over.

And of course the Infertility State Fair ride zone is loaded with… oh my gosh… that is the longest roller coaster I’ve ever seen in my life! I can’t even see the end of it. I think it goes all the way to the highway! Hell no. I’m not getting on that.

 

Oh look, that woman won first place for the longest continuous mood swing. Okay, so she was forced to move out of her neighborhood because of some property she destroyed, and she lost her job because of somethings she said to her boss, and her husband just now disappeared into the Fair crowd, but that is quite the handsome blue ribbon. “Congratulations Lady!” Uh oh, what did I say? She looks pissed.

Then, just like I humor my husband by dealing with the Geico tent, he comes with me to see Smokey the Bear. I like Smokey. I always ask him for advice about infertility fires. “Smokey, how do I stop the bills from coming? How do I deal with nosy coworkers? I’m still terrified of needles. What do I do?.” Every year, Smokey offers the same wise words. “Only YOU can prevent forest fires.” Each year, I leave his area  knowing that all of my answers are hidden within that one simple sentence. I feel very zen as I ponder, mouthing each syllable, ignoring my husband muttering: “It’s a recording, you idiot.”

And finally, we reach our destination. Never does the true value of the Infertility State Fair become clearer. It’s nirvana: The only place in this vast fair where I feel I truly belong. Where I feel truly understood. Miles and miles of concession stands: Deep-fried comfort food on a stick as far as the eye can see.

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2 thoughts on “The Infertility State Fair- Do I Have to Go Every Year?

  1. Do you remember the Zipper? (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zipper_(ride))

    That ride was IVF for me. Go in one direction while spinning, only to have the damn thing change direction and motion. Forget rollercoasters, this sucker really did me in.

    My other favorite place was the animal barns. Nothing like sobbing on Bessy as a much needed form of therapy. We even could chat about have people all up in our business (she sometimes has full human arms) and in the name of procreation.

    1. Hi Cristy! I remember the zipper now that I see it, but had no idea that’s what it was called. Thanks for the link so I ould have a visual! Clearly, State Fairs were created only to screw with infertile people. Always good to hear from you! xo

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