The vocabulary of fertility and its evil twin is replete with religion and superstition. The two most oft repeated words I’ve heard are (variations of) “blessed” and “lucky.” These words are the handles on the door to doubt and blame. Let’s enter.
People with kids usually consider themselves blessed. Blessed implies religious, that a greater power favors you and allows you something you otherwise would go without. (Side note: You don’t hear people say they were blessed with a new car or a good investment; as if God who blesses you with fertility has no part in the money needed to paid for IVF.) But I have no problem with that- believe what you want to believe. The only problem I have with that is the converse: If you are infertile, does that mean you are not blessed?
This war was fought on the battlefield of my apartment. My wife and I believe in God. We choose to observe our level of religiosity out of desire not guilt. In turn, we never before had asked, “Why us?” or, more appropriately, “Why not us?”
I don’t have an answer to this question. What I do know, however, is that it doesn’t help to hear that I am “blessed” or “lucky” that today’s technology (i.e. IVF) makes parenthood an attainable dream. Don’t tell me that. Just don’t. But you did, so here we go.
I don’t mean to be insensitive but I’m going to bring in cancer. Cancer treatment has progressed leaps and bounds, curing many types of cancers. Yet, (I hope) no one tells a cancer patient that they are lucky – had they got cancer a few decades ago, their chances would be grim. But it’s true. Testicular cancer, caught at a very early stage, can be cured. Breast cancer, similarly. Still, don't tell a cancer patient that he/she is lucky. Here is why:
On the continuum of life and time, there are chapters. It’s like a flight. When you fly somewhere, you have to pack and go to the airport. Then the plane has to leave, fly, and land. After that, you have to get from the airport to where you are going. As a whole, this is the trip, but each part is connected yet independent. Even if you get to your destination, would you say it was a good trip if you got in a car accident on the way to the airport? What if your luggage was lost? What if your plane was delayed five hours and then re-routed midair? Even such (seemingly) trivial divergences can turn a good trip into a regrettable one. It is only the airline’s customer service representative who will tell you, “All’s well that ends well.”
My best friend’s mom had cancer. The doctor’s caught it early and she is in remission. I would never tell my best friend that his mom is lucky. She is unlucky. She got cancer. She is unlucky. She had a double mastectomy. Maybe she is lucky to be alive, but is living the barometer of fortune? In that case, I didn’t die writing this– I am lucky. I prefer “luck” to stand for something more meaningful than the absence of calamity. I also wouldn’t say that because she is in remission, all is well. She is alive and that is great.
Cancer is bad. Chemo is bad. Surgery is bad. Nausea is bad. Remission is good. Five chapters. Five outcomes.
Perhaps the pains and obstacles of cancer are more famous than those of infertility. If I got a nickel for every time someone told me, “So you’ll just do IVF, that’s all,” IVF would have been much more affordable. No one tells you about the pills. The shots. The patches. The antibiotics. The suppositories. The blood work. The ultrasounds. Q-caps and saline mixtures don’t make the cover of People. Worse than all, the waiting – Tom Petty wasn’t kidding.
Maybe the problem here is the desire to wrap everything in a Tiffany’s box and tie it with a bow. Maybe people tell me and my wife that we are lucky because they want to inhale the entirety of the situation and hope for a happy ending so they can label us “lucky” instead of “infertile.” Infertility looks like ashen dirt. Luck wears a glowing smile.
This brings me back to my first post- intentions are not the problem but labels. My wife is many amazing things but infertile is not one of them. Her body may work one way that leads us down a unique path to parenthood, but that path doesn’t need a street name. She is lucky if she feels lucky and blessed if she believes. I’d rather live than label.
People with kids usually consider themselves blessed. Blessed implies religious, that a greater power favors you and allows you something you otherwise would go without. (Side note: You don’t hear people say they were blessed with a new car or a good investment; as if God who blesses you with fertility has no part in the money needed to paid for IVF.) But I have no problem with that- believe what you want to believe. The only problem I have with that is the converse: If you are infertile, does that mean you are not blessed?
This war was fought on the battlefield of my apartment. My wife and I believe in God. We choose to observe our level of religiosity out of desire not guilt. In turn, we never before had asked, “Why us?” or, more appropriately, “Why not us?”
I don’t have an answer to this question. What I do know, however, is that it doesn’t help to hear that I am “blessed” or “lucky” that today’s technology (i.e. IVF) makes parenthood an attainable dream. Don’t tell me that. Just don’t. But you did, so here we go.
I don’t mean to be insensitive but I’m going to bring in cancer. Cancer treatment has progressed leaps and bounds, curing many types of cancers. Yet, (I hope) no one tells a cancer patient that they are lucky – had they got cancer a few decades ago, their chances would be grim. But it’s true. Testicular cancer, caught at a very early stage, can be cured. Breast cancer, similarly. Still, don't tell a cancer patient that he/she is lucky. Here is why:
On the continuum of life and time, there are chapters. It’s like a flight. When you fly somewhere, you have to pack and go to the airport. Then the plane has to leave, fly, and land. After that, you have to get from the airport to where you are going. As a whole, this is the trip, but each part is connected yet independent. Even if you get to your destination, would you say it was a good trip if you got in a car accident on the way to the airport? What if your luggage was lost? What if your plane was delayed five hours and then re-routed midair? Even such (seemingly) trivial divergences can turn a good trip into a regrettable one. It is only the airline’s customer service representative who will tell you, “All’s well that ends well.”
My best friend’s mom had cancer. The doctor’s caught it early and she is in remission. I would never tell my best friend that his mom is lucky. She is unlucky. She got cancer. She is unlucky. She had a double mastectomy. Maybe she is lucky to be alive, but is living the barometer of fortune? In that case, I didn’t die writing this– I am lucky. I prefer “luck” to stand for something more meaningful than the absence of calamity. I also wouldn’t say that because she is in remission, all is well. She is alive and that is great.
Cancer is bad. Chemo is bad. Surgery is bad. Nausea is bad. Remission is good. Five chapters. Five outcomes.
Perhaps the pains and obstacles of cancer are more famous than those of infertility. If I got a nickel for every time someone told me, “So you’ll just do IVF, that’s all,” IVF would have been much more affordable. No one tells you about the pills. The shots. The patches. The antibiotics. The suppositories. The blood work. The ultrasounds. Q-caps and saline mixtures don’t make the cover of People. Worse than all, the waiting – Tom Petty wasn’t kidding.
Maybe the problem here is the desire to wrap everything in a Tiffany’s box and tie it with a bow. Maybe people tell me and my wife that we are lucky because they want to inhale the entirety of the situation and hope for a happy ending so they can label us “lucky” instead of “infertile.” Infertility looks like ashen dirt. Luck wears a glowing smile.
This brings me back to my first post- intentions are not the problem but labels. My wife is many amazing things but infertile is not one of them. Her body may work one way that leads us down a unique path to parenthood, but that path doesn’t need a street name. She is lucky if she feels lucky and blessed if she believes. I’d rather live than label.