It’s easy to love a fairytale. Some of them we love so much, they seep out of the book and into our bloodstreams and live with us for decades. At ten years old we think:
“I don’t want to get married young. I’m going to wait until I’m at least twenty. And I’m going to have a big wedding on the beach and Marcy in my class is going to be my maid of honor because we’ve been best friends since third grade.
I’m going to marry a man named Michael because I really like that name and we’re going to have two kids, one boy and one girl, Michael Junior (I REALLY like that name) and Marcy after my best friend since third grade. I'll probably have my boy first so my daughter will have a big brother.”
And then, of course, since most of us don't live in Oz, reality rears its ugly head and the fairy tale turns down a less rosy path.
We find "Mr. Maybe" at seventeen, "Mr. Possibly" at twenty-two, "Mr. Definitely Not" at twenty-eight and "Mr. Right" at thirty-five. Then, as all too many of us know, the pregnancy fairy tale doesn’t always pan out either.
(Maybe that's why you never see Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty or Snow White knocked up. The stories always end at the wedding kiss. It's goes: Wedding--Kiss--Happily Ever After--The End. Maybe that's the key to living "Happily Ever After"...Quitting before things get ugly.)
And, believe it or not, when infertility starts, so does the beginning of a new fairy tale... in our heads anyway.
"Once upon a time in a land far far away from any "fertility" doctor who didn't also deliver cows and goats in his back room, there lived a fairy princess who needed fertility treatments.
So this fairy princess and her handsome prince (whom she was married to by the way... so let's not start spreading rumors around the kingdom)
So anyway... as the fairy tale in our heads goes... the fairy princess and her handsome prince headed in their pumpkin coach to the fertility clinic on Monday and by the following Thursday they had their little princelet and presented him at the ball.
And people came from miles around and said he was the most beautiful creature they had ever seen except perhaps for his mother the princess who, just three days after having had the baby weighed eighty-three pounds with a ten inch waist, looked stunning in her ball gown and incredibly steady on her stillettos... And they all lived happily ever after."
Of course you don't hear women on fertility support sites talking about this fairy tale... not directly. But it's a very narrow tight rope we walk between staying positive and Disney cartoon.
First we spend all day flicking baby dust at each other left and right like it's a magic wand we're waving over each other's uteruses and writing things like:
""I’m starting treatments today so I should be pregnant by early spring of the latest! I can get some spring maternity clothes cheaper if I buy them now in the off-season. I think I’ll go shopping tomorrow…and maybe on my way home, I’ll check out the schools in the neighborhood to see if they’re any good.”
What? I feel like writing back:
"What do you know that the rest of us don't? No, I'm serious. Do you have a dead aunt who comes to you in dreams at night?:
'Spring...Pregnant...Buy clothes now...Big discounts... Just not day after Thanksgiving...Crowds...Crazy People...'"
I want to say: "Could you ask her about the rest of us tonight? And while you're at it... Does she have any stock tips or lottery info?...I live in Boise...Could you make sure it's the Idaho lottery?"
I'm telling you, it's hard not to let our thoughts turn us into Alice in Fertility Land. But could we at least do away with the baby dust? I for one really don't have the hair for it.
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For an autumn post---(the autumn of my fertility that is)--and some Halloween-inspired (not so scary) infertility tales..please click over to my latest posts at Fertility Authority: http://fertilityauthority.com/blogger/1013368