The medical profession’s tone deafness surrounding infertility and involuntary childlessness
On the Thursday before this past Sunday, the day that shall not be named here in the US, it finally came.
Considering the fact I’m living as, among other things, a childless not by choice survivor of infertility, I had had a relatively trigger free week. I went food shopping twice (a newly regained ability since coming down with post infection dysautonomia almost a year and a half ago) and no one wished me happy mother’s day. I ran into a neighbor while getting my groceries out of the car and she didn’t mention the looming national holiday. Making up for my winter of hibernation, I went out twice – once grabbing lunch with a friend and another having dinner with my husband and two friends of ours. Nary a peep. And aside from the usual commercial bombardment, which seemed to be making me only mildly grumpy and was not spiking my sarcasm meter to the degree it usually does, I was actually starting to feel like this is my world too once again.
Now, I want to be clear, it’s not like I was just skipping through my week. Four years out of trying to conceive and four years into the grieving and healing process, there are still many times when I wish I could emblazon myself with a “fragile, please handle with care” stamp. The week leading into mother’s day is of course one of them. Sensing my wounds and vulnerabilities undulating just beneath my now quasi functional surface, I attempted to make the necessary adjustments. Read more