Okay, this is a bit of a rant so skip it if you don’t want to read the words of a ranty woman. Also, this site is slowly becoming the infertile blog. NOT! I have a life, meh. Most of the time. When I am not stalking forums.
Ever since we came out of the (infertile) closet, the people around us have been tip-toeing around us in trepidation. It’s almost as if they are afraid that if they reached out to touch us, we might collapse and fall apart and die. Okay, the person they were really frightened of was me. Nobody was really thinking that husband would burst into tears if they asked him, how are you?
I used to take it personally and find it very insulting. Come on, we have gone through more than six months of treatments and nobody guessed a thing so what makes you think that I can’t handle this? But then, my very wise friend who is ruling the prairie right now said rightly that it’s a good thing people are sensitive about it and so I listened to her advice.
Maybe it would be better if everyone looked at infertility as a medical condition instead of this horrible societal abnormality. Because at the root of it, it IS a medical condition. I mean, just because some people get pregnant simply by breathing doesn’t mean we all can, right? It is like an illness, something that needs to be closely monitored and medicated in order for it to get better. You don’t tell someone suffering from breast cancer to “just relax and the cancer will go away”, do you?
Now that I am on this wretched bandwagon, I totally get how people say “you don’t understand”. Because, you DON’T. You won’t understand how it feels having to go through jabs and pills every month. You won’t understand how it feels to have the doctor look all the way up your retroverted uterus with that wand thingy as you lie there in semi-nekkidness. You won’t understand the excruciating physical pain that I suffered at the hands of my ridiculously overpaid gynae. (EX-gynae actually, I sacked her after she got her nurse to call me and tell me to move on to IVF. Bitch.) You won’t understand the hurt that builds up when family members automatically assume that you are the problem. It’s like I cannot quite understand it when my Sista laments about my nephew who does not sleep at night. I haven’t lived through it and so I can empathise but not quite grasp.
But just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean you cannot ask. Now that I have outed ourselves on the World Wide Web, it shows that I am not embarrassed. And if I am not at all interested in telling you about how our treatments are coming along, trust me, YOU CAN TELL. One of the best ways to be there for a friend battling an illness is to try and understand. Sadly, I think a lot of people fail on that count when it comes to infertility because all they need to do is to “just relax” and have sex, right?
And for the record, I do have a core of steel. If you read up on IUI/IVF procedures – part of trying to understand, you know – you will see that it is the WOMAN who goes through EVERYTHING. All the man needs to do is take supplements and DIY into a cup. So fuck you if you thought I couldn’t stand the stress of being asked about the treatments. I’ve held it together for the past six months with a full-time job and it’s more than what you can ever imagine. Just ask husband.
Ahh – it feels so good getting it out of my non-existent chest. Normal transmission about other frivolous topics will resume shortly.