My Private Infertility: Trying To Keep Everyone's Nose Out Of My Uterus (Monday)

So what were we talking about? Oh right. Last week I went on and on about what was wrong with my medical team. This week I'm going to go on and on about what's wrong with us. Why don't you have kids? Why are you so depressed? Why are you having mood swings? Why don't you want to go out with us? Why aren't you fun to be with anymore? Why don't you want to play with my kids? Why don't you want to babysit for us anymore? Why are you always going to the doctor? Why are you waiting so long to have a baby? Why don't you want to make me a grandma?

Why do you feel you owe these people an explanation?

Why don't you just say: "Why don't you mind your own business?"

I saw absolutely no reason to share my infertility information with anyone but my husband. I had to tell him. He started wondering why I kept asking him to stick me in the ass with a long needle night after night.  ("Lori, I know people are  into some weird things, but this makes no sense.")

And I didn't want to bring home a baby one day and have him ask: "Where'd that come from?"

It is extremely liberating to feel you owe nobody any information. And I mean absolutely nobody but the other parent-to-be. Not your mother. Not your sister. Not your neighbor (especially not your neighbor). Not your boss.

I'm not saying some of them don't have legitimate concerns and sincere interest in your life and your well-being. I'm just saying that that doesn't give them license to see into your future or your reproductive organs.

This week I've created a series of board games to help you navigate around the yentas in your life.

I think they may be of use to you when dealing with friends and relatives who really do care.

For mere acquaintances and virtual strangers in your life who "just want to know" for curiosity and gossiping sake, I suggest you just use the old stand-by: "Screw off".

If you're too polite to employ that fool-proof phrase, feel free to let me know. Remember to include their email or mailing address. I'd be happy to cut and paste it over to them on your behalf.  

Listen, I gotta go. I was so sick this morning I couldn't go to work. I'd better go lie down. Perhaps poolside with a nice book and a frosty beverage.  I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.

(If the comment box does not appear on your computer below each post, please click on post title to comment.)