Here’s a new life lesson: If you happen to be getting ready for your first IVF cycle and have a blog, do not post anything about it unless it works. Especially if it’s anywhere within 100 feet of Christmas. I know you will be hopeful and scared and wanting to include everyone, but don’t. JUST DON’T. Because you will get a LOT of lovely, amazing people very, very excited.
These people will leave you wonderful comments. They will send you encouraging emails. They will mail you handwritten Christmas cards speaking hopefully of baby presents next year.
Which you will open the same day as the statement from the clinic that details the fact that you spent every last benefit dime on a procedure that did. not. work. And you will stand there looking at your Christmas card table envisioning setting the whole thing on fire, thinking, ‘what the hell do I say now?’.
Instead of figuring that out, anytime soon, you will go to a party the next day and get very, very drunk. You will be very, very hungover at your husband’s hockey game when one of the wives announces she’s pregnant. You will get up and move to the other fucking side of the arena in order not to murder anyone. You will go to your own going-away party and drink some more. You may start a kick-line in the middle of the city attorney’s living room and spill wine all over her wood floor. You will get up the next morning and start drinking as much damn coffee as you’ve ever wanted In. Your. Life. After which your neighbor will shoot the shit with your husband while he puts up lights, and casually mention that they are pregnant, too. Again. For the third time. OH, THE WOE.
You will be angry. You will be sad. Then you will be numb. Every time you try to write a post, you will be too tired, too worked up and entirely too unreasonable to make any sense at all. But if anything else, you will be 100% sure that saying any of this would only make those wonderful people feel bad. During Christmas.
So you will say nothing.
*Dear readers, just in case it’s not clear: I love you, love you, love you. I’m not calling YOU an idiot. I’m calling ME an idiot. Via the timeless wit of the Wedding Crashers.
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