You go to the dentist?! How uptight of you.
Yesterday, the weirdest thing happened.
I had a dentist's appointment.
I told people that I had a dentist’s appointment.
And not one single person assumed that I was devastated, neurotic or in need of advice as the result of having the appointment.
I didn’t even get coached without my consent. Not once!
Totally weird, right?
Ooof. We’ve reached a sticky point because the best form of storytelling would be to go immediately into a specific example about one of the – oh, I don’t know? – ten times? I’ve been given unhelpful, unwelcome and certainly unsolicited advice about fertility treatments in the last few months.
But giving a specific example would mean sharing enough details that someone could possibly recognize themselves in the story and I’m not looking to call anyone out. So I’m going to sacrifice good storytelling in order to align with my values and keep this musing vague. I hope my Irish ancestors won’t disown me for the decision.
As many of you know, I’m an unusually transparent person. It started in 12-step recovery rooms when 22-year-old Keely was taught that “your secrets keep you sick” and then it stuck because I like living this way.
That’s important – 12 years into living this way, I don’t “do” transparency out of a sense of obligation. I “do” it out of a strong personal preference.
And, if you’ve been reading along for a while, you’ve probably heard that I’m into doing whatever I want whenever I want. My life, my rules.
So, a few months ago, when Sam and I started doing fertility treatments, I spoke about it transparently. In my writing. With close friends.
But also with not close friends. And I don’t mean in an “I’m now a fertility treatment advocate” or a “this is all I talk about now” kind of way because neither of those things are true.
I mean in the exact same way I talk about dentist’s appointments.
You know what I mean by that, right? Sometimes people ask you if you can do things. They’ll say, “Hey are you free to grab lunch on Tuesday?” and you’ll look at your calendar and respond, “I can’t then, I have a dentist appointment. Would Thursday work?”
I do the same thing, except it’s broader. “Hey, are you free to do x, y or z thing next week?” “Next week isn’t good because I’m doing fertility treatments. They’re 100% body clock based and therefore unpredictable, so I keep my calendar commitment-free some weeks. Does the following week work for you?”
I can’t tell if I’m delusional or perhaps telling myself stories that are false, but I sense no despair in that statement.
I don’t read that and think, “That is one UPTIGHT woman right there.”
I don’t pick up vibes that say, “OMG these fertility treatments are destroying my life and instead of bringing this up with the highly qualified professionals I’m working with, I really hoped that YOU would give me your opinion right now. Can you pretty please coach me through how I should be more relaxed and then I wouldn’t have an infertility problem?”
But maybe I’m wrong.
I don’t know. This is baffling to me. I’ve never in my entire life been coached without my consent as often as I am now that I’m going through fertility treatments.
And maybe it’s cultural stuff. Maybe I’m supposed to be ashamed and not talk about this openly. Maybe I’m supposed to be distraught or think that God doesn’t love me because I didn’t fall pregnant the first month I tried. Maybe I’m supposed to be way less okay than I am.
But do you know how I feel about fertility treatments?
Grateful. Relieved. Curious. Open. Trusting. Glad that they’re an option.
Frustrated at times, absolutely. I was supposed to be living 10 minutes from my fertility clinic for the last two cycles and, instead, I was 2 hours and one border crossing away. Find me a non-Dalai-Lama-level human who wouldn’t be frustrated by that.
But big picture? I think it’s pretty darn cool that I have this option to turn to. Just like I think it’s pretty darn cool that modern dentistry means that I was able to get an itty bitty cavity filled yesterday before it turned into a bigger problem.
So this is a gentle-ish reminder that people are allowed to go through fertility treatments and to be okay at the same time. Some of us – we’re not just okay, but downright delighted. We love being alive at a time when there are options.
95% of the people in my life already know that without it needing to be spelled out. My people get this. They’ve met me with the kind of warmth, support and encouragement that makes me glad I’m speaking about this so openly.
But last night when someone made a whole bunch of incorrect assumptions, followed by particularly unwelcome advice… I reached my, “Hmm, maybe I should muse about this” point.
Listen - I’m not just resilient and resourced, but I’m also ridiculously supported. Saying the wrong thing to me is unlikely to have lasting consequences. But that’s not true for everyone. So here’s my little contribution to the world of couples going through fertility treatments – please don’t project your stuff onto them. Unsolicited advice is both unhelpful and unwelcome, so please keep it to yourself.
We now live in a world where, for some of us, signing up for help from the fertility clinic is just as much of a no-brainer as booking an appointment with the dentist or flying home instead of taking a horse and buggy.
And I don’t know about you, but my horse and buggy don’t get much use.
Love,
Your friend who finds lots of things to cherish about the modern world
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Morning Musings is a delight-first writing practice where I make a cup of coffee, dance around my house a little bit, then put my fingers on the keyboard and see what comes up.
Some folks find these musings helpful. If you know anyone who might like this musing, please share it freely.