One Woman’s Desperate Attempt to Inject Spring Spirit into Infertility. (Did she have to say: ‘inject’?)
At this time of year, as we approach the Easter and Passover holidays, I’m sure, like me, you can’t help pondering how much this spring holiday season reminds you of your fertility treatments.
“What? Why? What are you talking about? I’ve never thought that even once.”
I mean, take Easter for example. True, infertility doesn’t make us feel resurrected…
“Resurrected? No. That’s not quite the right word. Maybe: “Angry”? “Defeated”? “Pissed?”
Okay… maybe that wasn’t a good example. How about: Infertility reminds us of getting all dressed up and heading to church with the whole family?
“How? It’s more like throwing on a sleeveless T-shirt and baggy sweatpants so the nurse will have easy access to my vein and the doctor will have easy access to… somewhere totally different. And there aren’t enough seats in the waiting room for the whole family and who wants them there anyway? Yeah, I’ll tell you how infertility is like Easter. I feel like I’m the only idiot in the egg hunt still swinging an empty basket!”
Infertility is like spring.
“No it’s not. I keep planting but nothing’s growing. Groundhogs are morons. Every last one of them. They may be cute rodents but they’re sucky meteorologists.”
Let’s move on, shall we?
Infertility is like Passover where we celebrate Gd liberating us from slavery.
“Hm… liberation from being a slave. Well let’s see… Every single minute of every single day of my life revolves around doctors, nurses, blood tests, stomach shots, prescriptions, butt shots, appointments, and probing examinations. Nope. Not feeling the liberation. More like: Infertility is like Passover: Everybody tells you what you can eat and what you can’t eat and 99% of what you are supposed to be eating, you would never eat in a million years if you had the choice. More precisely: Infertility is like Passover food: Monotonous, bland, and hard to digest. Yeah yeah… that’s it.”
Well, okay. I guess I see your point. But I can’t end our little discussion on a negative note. So let’s wind this up with a positive thought, shall we?
No matter whether we’re talking about IVF or Easter, or the Passover Seder plate: My wish for you is the same:
“May none of your eggs be filled with Laffy Taffy.”