Storkhunter is flying south for winter … well two weeks actually so there may be a lull in blog activity. I will make sure to feather the nest as soon as I get back.

Amongst the stupidest pieces of “helpful” advice given to infertiles is “perhaps you need a vacation,” or “if you relax it’ll happen.” No, you dimwit, the problem is that my ovaries are way too fucking relaxed and seem to be on permanent vacation. How is me sitting on my behind, going to get those sluggish little eggs motivated?

Our vacation is not about giving my reproductive system a break, but to preserve the outside packaging surrounding it. After all, just because the boss is out of the office doesn’t mean the employees can ignore their work.

I shouldn’t really rail so hard against the authors of these advisory snippets. After all, it’s not easy understanding a situation if you’re not in it. But, I know that next time a bumpified mummy-to-be does the sympathy head-tilt and comes out with an inane comment like “have you tried Clomid?” I might just scream. So, I’ve come up with the following, easy-to-understand analogy to explain it for those lucky enough not to be in the know.

One morning, an office caretaker, we’ll call him Stan, knocks on the door of his boss’s office and shifting nervously from foot to foot he says “Hey Boss, you knows how I’se been workin’ ‘ere for twenny year or so … yeah … I fink it time to … you know … talk about payin’ me some more.”

The boss walks over to Stan, puts his arm around his shoulder, in an exaggerated gesture of affected congeniality and says “Stan, Stan, my man, of course you want a pay rise. You deserve a pay rise and believe me, Stan I want nothing more than to give you a pay rise. But, Stan, you know times are tough … in this climate we’re lucky that we actually have jobs … we just don’t have the money now for pay increases. But what I can do for you is give you a promotion. From today on you will be known as ‘Manager of Hygiene and Waste Management Protocol’ and you will be in responsible for the cleanliness of the whole office building, not just this floor.”

Stan puffs up with pride at his new title and marches out the office his head held a bit higher and his back slightly straighter. He’s happy and the boss is thrilled that the sucker is doing more work for the same pay.

That evening, Stan goes home to his wife bursting with the news of his big promotion … “so I told the guv’ner and he give me this promotion … I am now in charge of the whole buidin’ … awww, he’s a good man me guv’ner.” Stan’s wife looks at him incredulously “more work… no more money … what exactly do you get out of it. “Well…” Stan’s features take on a quizzical  look “well…er… I got me a fancy new title…”

Not everyone can be a member of the Brains Trust.

For almost twenty years I have been approaching adulthood like a good girl. I’ve been eating my vegetables, taking my vitamins and being a devoted wife. So when I decided to perpetuate the species I thought it’d be a walk in the park … after all I deserve it dammit.

It seems that the Big Man upstairs has other ideas. “Oh yes, of course you want a baby and believe me you should have a baby. I want nothing more than for you to have a baby. But it’s not your time right now. What I can do for you is give you all these needles and medicines to help you along and everywhere you go people will look at you and smile and tell you how brave and amazing you are for facing your challenges. And to top it all off they will give you all the free ‘advice’ you can handle.”

More work, more pain, less money (do you know how much these tests cost?), but I do get me some fancy titles. Yeah well, fuck you and your titles. Bravery ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, at this point, I’m just cracked up.

One response »

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