The Blessed Irony of Birthdays
Where infertility is concerned, birthdays mean something different. Something far less festive. To be blunt, they are the embodiments of those biological clocks everyone is always talking about.
Where infertility is concerned, birthdays mean something different. Something far less festive. To be blunt, they are the embodiments of those biological clocks everyone is always talking about.
Every now and then, lengthy posts are too broad to get to the root of how we feel. Here are just a few of my thoughts as to why you should be ENCOURAGED today.
Are we, the infertility community, too sensitive? Are our feelings the responsibility of those around us? Is it fair to superimpose our emotional baggage onto those who are unfamiliar with infertility?
I’ve been her a lot. In fact, MOST of my friends have had their experiences being “that” black girl before. THAT black girl is the stereotypical chick. The neck-rollin, lip-smackin, “GIRRL, LET ME TELL YOU”, chick. We avoid her at all costs. The Sheneneh, the Mammy, the Sapphire…we work hard at not being her. We …
We’re selfish, haven’t you heard? With all the children waiting in foster homes and orphanages, (that I guess fertile people don’t have to care about), those of us who long for genetic heirs are self-gratifying jerks who want nothing more than to populate an over-populated world for our own purposes. You knew that, didn’t you? …
Warning, rant ahead: I wonder if it’s possible to hate something that is a natural part of life. For that matter, I wonder if it’s possible to hate inanimate objects? If it is possible, and I’m not just losing my mind, then I would like to take this time to publicly declare war on Menses. …