The Question

All infertiles are familiar with The Question, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with it. My husband and I went to a concert this weekend. As we joined the line in the lobby a middle aged couple stepped in behind us. Immediately, it was 20 Questions. My husband is tall so we're used to the comments - Did you play basketball in high school? It's not hard to pick you out in a crowd, is it? *Insert annoying chuckle.*

Soon after the "What do you do?" question the wife launched into, "So, do you have kids?" I should be used to this question by now but I'm always caught off guard. Perhaps because it's such a deep-seeded issue for me and my lack of children gnaws away at me every day. I glanced at my husband and we exchanged a 10 second glance of "Are you freakin' kidding me?" before he answered, "No", perhaps a little too brightly. Annoying wife picked up on our hesitation and asked, "Not yet, huh?". Was she digging for our dark secret so she could pick it apart and draw some pleasure from our pain? Or maybe she was trying to be empathetic. Or perhaps she was familiar with infertility herself (although, I highly doubt it, because any self-respecting infertile would not ask that question), and she wanted to offer us some sage advice. I didn't know and I didn't care. My hackles were up and I wanted to get away from this nosy woman.

Then the next logical comment came that totally pierced a whole through my heart. "Your kids will probably be really tall." *Insert hearty guffaw from her husband.* Yeah, I know they'll probably be tall. I also think they'll have dark hair and I wonder if they'll have my darker hazel eyes, or my husband's light-greenish hazel eyes. Or will they have my dad's blue eyes? Maybe they'll inherit my grandma's unruly hair, or maybe they'll have my mother-in-law's straight hair. I wonder if they'll be musical like me or if they'll love the outdoors like their dad. The list of possibilities goes on and on and I didn't need her to remind me of my fantasies, thankyouverymuch.

Fortunately, the line started to move and we were soon admitted into the theater. We quickly darted into the rest of the crowd so we wouldn't be stuck sitting next to them. I breathed a sigh of relief and sympathetically watched as I saw her grilling a new couple who were unlucky enough to choose seats next to them.

Why can't nosy people keep their questions to themselves? I enjoy making small-talk with strangers, but I don't need to grill them about their college careers, occupations and family life to do so. Get a clue, nosy lady!

In the fertile's den

I'm in a book club... a very fertile book club. Almost all of the ladies have children and two of them are currently pregnant. I find it hard to walk past a pregnant lady, let alone sit next to one for a couple hours, their protruding stomach staring me in the face. The mommies in the group always find ways to relate the books we read to their children, their parenting experiences or their pregnancies. I suppose it's only natural that they do this, but it makes it hard for me to chime in. 


Mommy book club member: <Insert child tantrum story here.> 
Me: Oh yeah, the other day my dog got really bored and chewed a hole in my dirty underwear...


I outed myself a couple months ago as an infertile. It led to a really nice discussion and they were all supportive, but it's still hard to go there every month and be surrounded by their fertileness. However, I like to read, these ladies are pretty cool, and I'm kind of a glutton for punishment, so I keep going. 


At last night's meeting one of the ladies privately handed me a paper bag. Inside were two fertility statues. She said they worked for her and her husband four times over (she is currently preggo with #4). Hmmm... well, I am intrigued and ready to give it a shot. I know she's probably just naturally super fertile and these little statues have nothing to do with her good fortune, but the superstitious part of me says we should give it a go.

Our new little visitors are now sitting on our nightstands, ready to watch over us while we do the baby-making deed. We've already got the doctor involved in our sex life, why not add a couple more "experts" to the bedroom?

Beware the throng of fertiles at Target

You know what I hate? I finished yet another bottle of prenatal vitamins and I'm still not pregnant. What the hell?? Whenever I get a new bottle I pray to the fertility gods to please, pretty please, let me get knocked up before this bottle is empty. Well, it looks like my prayers have gone unanswered yet again.

So I hop in the car and drive to Target so I can replenish my supply. I try my best to avoid the baby section as I meander around the store (because everyone knows you can't leave Target with just one item. The store sucks you in and makes you look for things you didn't even know you wanted). I wander around the store like a good little infertile (okay, I allow myself one glance at the cute little baby Easter dresses), and it seems like the store is full of women my age with babies or toddlers in tow. I can't get away from them! It's getting late...shouldn't those damn fertiles be at home putting their adorable little babies to bed?

I vote for designated infertile shopping time. Give us our own special hour when we can buy our ovulation tests and prenatal vitamins in peace!