So last week was sort of an introduction to infertility with a few terms and definitions sprinkled in among my usual smart ass remarks.
When you have to deal with infertility, you quickly realize that there are three types of people in your life: 1) People who really care about your infertility business. 2) People who really don’t care about your infertility business and 3) People who only care about your infertility business so they can focus on your life instead of their unbearably humdrum one. So are we supposed to gather up everyone in our lives and hold a meeting to periodically update them on our infertility issues like that nice lady below is doing?
What Baby Making / Infertility Info You Owe Family, Friends, & other Random People
To whom do we owe information and how much information do we owe them? You know, are we obligated to tell our parents that we’re having trouble getting pregnant but not that we’re going to a Reproductive Endocrinologist? Or do we owe it to our sister to tell her we’re doing treatments but not that we’re considering an egg donor? Or do we owe our employers details on which procedures we’re having done on which day? My strong belief regarding us and our personal infertility business is: Screw ’em all. We don’t owe anybody anything. Continue reading
I’ve been writing the past few weeks about how to best dodge impertinent, indiscreet, and very personal questions from our so-called family and friends during this holiday season.
Relatives are a necessary evil at holiday time. There are three categories of kinfolk:
1) Those we can’t wait to see.
2) Those who are great to see a few times a year and
3) Those who make you certain that in a past life you stole from a children’s charity and their visit is your little holiday gift from Cousin Karma.
Sometimes infertility turns holidays into one big ugly sixth grade dodge ball game for us. You spend family gatherings ducking and side-stepping personal, obnoxious, stupid, and embarrassing questions.
And you spend (did I just misspell “waste”) weeks before the family powwow anticipating who’s going to ask those questions and trying to duck and side-step those people altogether.
Here’s the solution: Present them with a nice gift. A book. Wait! I know you probably think this is about me trying to hustle my ebook which I do on a regular basis. You don’t have to give them my book. It would be damn well appreciated. But my book might not be the one they need to read. (Did I just type that? My fingers must be possessed. Where’s my eraser?)
The point of giving them a book is to minimize your angst and your pain. Sure, it’s gift tag has their name on it in your handwriting, but make no mistake, it’s a gift you’re giving yourself.
It doesn’t really matter when you give the gift. You can do it a week before the family brouhaha. Call it preventative medicine. Instead of waiting for the holiday joy to nose-dive: When you’re mid-holiday soiree and the yentas corner you in the kitchen and your only response to their barrage of conception questions is to squirm and hyperventilate.
Days before the big family gala, give the book (even better– send it–what you pay in postage you’ll save in hand sanitizer). And make sure you include a note in big bold, neon letters:
“I’m really not comfortable discussing what we’re going through, but this pretty much covers it.” OR
“I know you’ve been concerned that I’m not pregnant yet. I think you’ll really enjoy this and it will explain it better than I can at the moment.”
I recommend you start your statement with something to the effect of: “I’m not ready to get into my personal business…”
By starting off with a statement like that you’re swatting the gnat before it starts buzzing in your ear. So if after reading your generous gift, they come back and say:
“I was shocked by chapter 8! You’re not really doing what’s in that chapter are you?!” Now you can just hit “rewind” and say:
“Remember two weeks ago when I said I wasn’t ready to get into my personal business? Yeah…well…ditto this week…Bye”
The point of giving them your present is: You’re giving them lots of information about your infertility situation without giving them any information about your infertility situation. For example..just an example..not hustling: If you give them, let’s say, my ebook, I’m spilling my infertile guts to them so you don’t have to. I don’t care if they know my business. I’m not related to them. Screw them. They mean nothing to me. My ebook, I’m told, is fast, fun, humorous reading. Your family and friends will get what it’s all about, and what you’re going through daily, but it’s not profound enough to leave them feeling overwhelmed or freaked out.
But maybe you don’t want anyone to yuk it up over infertility. Maybe you want them to better understand your particular issue that’s causing your infertility. Then find a book written by a Reproductive Endocrinologist.
Or maybe you want them to understand the emotional toll it’s taking on you better and a more serious book by a psychologist is in order.
The point is: No matter what the title of the book you give them, the sub-title is: “How to Get You Off My Back & Out of My Ovaries…(You Nosy B)”
Below are just a few books out there you may want to consider for yourself this holiday season or as a gift which, as we said earlier…is really a gift for you too. You just can’t lose with this system. It’s fool-proof. Remember that ebooks can also be given as a gift via Amazon if the giftee has an account. These are just ones I know about. Nobody’s giving me any cash or sexual favors to tell you about them…except the last one.
1) Dr. Richard Marrs’ Fertility Book
2) On Fertile Ground: Healing Infertility (Helen Adrienne, LCSW)
3) The Fertile Secret: Guide to Living A Fertile Life (Robert Kiltz MD)
4) Conquering Infertility- (Alice Domar Phd)
5) Laughing IS Conceivable: One Woman’s Extremely Funny Peek into the Extremely Unfunny World of Infertility
(Yes this IS MY ebook. It’s my blog for chrissakes. Throw me a bone will ya?)
Skip next paragraph if you’ve had it up to here reading about my ebook.
(If you’ve wanted to help someone understand what you’re going through with infertility but don’t want to get into your own personal details with them, consider my ebook: Laughing IS Conceivable: One Woman’s Extremely Funny Peek into the Extremely Unfunny World of Infertility as a gift. $3.99 on Amazon. Free at Kindle Library- Chapter Previews & Reviews: www.amazon.com/dp/B007G9X19A or click icon at the right)
Stores are really revved up for this holiday shopping season. This year, they didn’t wait until midnight or 4am to start peddling their wares. On Thursday, Thanksgiving…Somewhere between the time everyone finished getting drunk on turkey and football and had time to sleep it off on the couch, the stores already had busted their doors open and were welcoming every form of payment. I’ve always prided myself in being too good to be caught up in the melee. I’m just…well…above it all. This year was different. This year I needed a TV.
My husband called me from Wal-mart to see if I needed any parmesan cheese. Apparently that’s where they kept the masses waiting to purchase a cheap TV at 10 pm: In the parmesan cheese aisle. So everybody was bucking for our business this Thanksgiving weekend. From the Thursday Turkey Trot at Wal-mart to Black Friday to Cyber Monday… Everybody was fighting to give us the best holiday deals. Everybody except the fertility clinics… Where the hell were they? Continue reading
So today is the last day of us looking back at some fan fave posts of the past year+. Hope you’ve enjoyed a yuk or two down memory lane. I’ll be getting off my fat ass and posting some new stuff on Monday. Have a great weekend!
“Holidays: I’m Not Convinced”
Originally Posted: Sept 8, 2010 (Wednesday)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. This week is filled with holidays for me. From Labor day to Rosh Hashanah, (the Jewish New Year).
Yesterday we were talking about how the infertile among us dread holidays and despise family functions. And my theory (my Masters thesis) is that most people, those with normally functioning reproductive systems included, also hate going to these wingdings. And this is why: Continue reading
Okay, I admit it. I’ve completely botched this week’s posts.
Life had the chudspa to interrupt my blog for a few days this week. You were nice enough to log on and I gypped everyone out of a couple of days. I’m sure many are speculating that I haven’t yet recovered from my drunken fourth of July stupor. I don’t drink or do anything elicit. The craziest thing I do is yoga (yawn). So what excuse can I possibly have? I got myself twisted into a yoga pretzel and my husband just now found me and pulled me apart?
So there’s really no excuse. I’ve had car issues and neck issues but who cares? I don’t expect you to. I don’t even care that much.
So, what were we talking about way back on Tuesday when I last posted? Oh right. Independence. When will we ever be free of this crappy infertility? When will we ever get our freedom from it?
I made mention on Tuesday that infertility is like a big fricken ball and chain attached to our our ankles. You’d think we’d all have amazing inner thighs from schlepping it around month after month (at least in one leg–the other one’s deteriorating like the rest of our bodies…and minds, and souls.)
It’s time we created our own fireworks. So bring on John Philip Sousa, “Donn, donnn, don don don.. Don don don don don (That was supposed to be the opening of “Stars & Stripes Forever”. I spent fourth of July with a crick in my neck from an Adirondack chair. Humor me will ya?) Continue reading
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Our forever well-meaning friends and relatives peddling their useless infertility advice to us…free of charge…The only catch is: We have to listen to it.
Yesterday I told you about this Health Fair that my husband and I went to a few weekends ago. It had everything we ever dreamed of in a Health Fair: Free admission and air conditioning.
My husband went around filling out contest entries and shoving them into every box with such gusto, you’d have thought he was voting in a country that was holding their first-ever elections.
PS. We won two guys who came over to our house and made us a dinner with some pricy cookery that we obviously can’t live without. (One skillet…no exaggeration… cost $92 more than my mortgage payment. My husband and I discussed the benefits of selling our house and moving into a frying pan. Needless to say after “Well, it would force us to throw out things we don’t REALLY need”, the discussion was over.)
And this joyous experience brought back fond memories of our friends and family…While we were embarking on our infertility journey… and all the things they peddled to us that we had less use for than the frying pan house. Continue reading
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Preparing for the long weekend ahead and the mandatory Memorial Day barbecue: The unofficial start of summer for grill gluttons and beer guzzling alcoholics everywhere. (Start with Monday’s post if you can.)
The perfect place to celebrate Memorial Day weekend for me would be at a monastery where the monks take a vow of silence: The ideal barbecue: Plenty of food and no talking.
And even if there was talking, nobody would be talking about their kids, and there’d be none running around (perhaps there’d be some running around at an apartment complex a half-mile down the road with a connecting underground tunnel to the monastery, but nobody would likely bring that up at the cook-out.)
But since most of us don’t have many monks attending our block parties, we have to work with what we got.
Sometimes as infertiles, you hold your breath as a big wingding approaches. “Will people ask us personal questions? Will we have to explain why we have no kids yet?”
No need to worry this time. For this weekend’s barbecue, don’t be concerned about the baby-making details. And don’t bother buying a cattle car full of beef, pork, or chicken either. Look around the neighborhood. Plenty to grill right here. Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can. You’ll want to read every word this week, especially on Thursday when, for no apparent reason, I drifted onto the subject of prostitution (I actually compared myself to a street-walker if I remember correctly) and stayed in that seedy neighborhood for 400 words or so.
And if you can possibly handle a little more of my ramblings and would like to know future happenings about Laughing IS Conceivable (this blog) and some insider info on why I write what I write (I’ll give you my best guess) please subscribe…
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. National Infertility Awareness Week–I’ve written those four words so many times in the past 2 weeks I actually programmed a key on my computer to type it just by me looking at it. (Call me lazy…May as well… there’s no other word for it.)
Hopefully you were all involved in the big hoopla surrounding (my eyes are going towards that key) National Infertility Awareness Week. I trust that you partied responsibly.
I know none of you shot up hormones without a designated driver and then drove yourself home.
I mean, I hate when people drive and talk on a phone–nevermind drive and text– but driving while kneeling on the front seat to give yourself a butt injection? That’s just going too far.
(I suppose you could stick your butt out the window at a red light and moon the guy in the next car and hand over the syringe: “Excuse me ! Sir?! Sir?!! Excuse me?! Would you mind? Come on, come on, it’s not that long a light.)
Of course I’d hate to have to explain that to a cop…. Or a judge… or maybe a jury… Or the local newspaper… Or your relatives in Iowa who get your local newspaper online… Or their boss who somehow connected that you’re related to them…
So listen: Today’s Fertility Authority Friday. So if you’d be so kind, click over to their website and you’ll get more of Laughing IS Conceivable and the clean-up and aftermath of (eyes to the key) National Infertility Awareness Week…According to me anyway.
Here’s the direct link in case you’re lazy like me and too lazy to scroll down. http://fertilityauthority.com/blogger/1013368
Listen, I gotta go. I have a big date with my boyfriend/fiance/husband/boy-toy/lover man/hunka-hunka burnin’ love tonight…I’d tell you more but it’s kinda private.
I’ll talk with ya again on Monday.
(Start with “Monday” if you can. Earthquakes and tsunamis are all over the planet. The U.S. government is ready to put up a “Gone Fishin'” sign. My blog’s about the only thing in this world you can still count on.
And if you can handle a bit more of my BS over the weekend…please subscribe to receive my weekly newsletter.)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Fertility clinics around the globe replacing both Disney and South Beach as the hottest vacation destinations.
I’ve been writing about this all week and I’ll be honest: Up until about an hour ago…I still didn’t get it.
Lots of people, mostly travel agents and doctors abroad, have been singing the praises of other countries for fertility treatments: “The weather’s great! The beaches are beautiful! Try to come during opera season!”
All week I kept thinking: “I’m going there for a medical emergency. A family crisis. And you’re trying to sell me on the weather?!”
How do I put this delicately? Who gives a sht about the weather?! Where the doctor will be looking, the weather’s always the same: “Warm and Dark”.
I’m coming over there to get my uterus poked for less money than they charge to poke it over here. I’m glad the opera will be in town. Maybe during my procedure, their screaming will drown out mine.
Then, about an hour ago, I finally realized my problem: All week, we’ve been looking at this from a fertility patient’s point of view. I think we need to stop…
And look at this whole “Traveling Abroad for Treatments” thing… From a Jet-Setter’s point of view. (To be continued at:)
Today is Fertility Authority Friday. Please head over there for the rest of this brand new post. I’ll talk with ya again on Monday.