INFERTILITY WARRIOR Blog

I know the "Octo-Mom" has gotten tremendous negative press (and I have not hid my feelings either), but I want to offer the idea that her story may actually help those suffering with infertiles in the long run.  Here's why:

Overall Awareness.  Information is power and this story has opened up dialogue in such an extreme case that it is relatively safe for us "in the know" to offer our expertise about infertility, fertility drugs, and procedures.  We can be open with people and educate them and since Octo-Mom is so extreme any of our attempts pale in comarison for any people that are judgemental.    "We" must seem normal and our desire to have a baby or two easy to understand in comparison.

Insurance & Regulations.  For us run-of-the-mill infertiles having the spotlight on infertility and looking at regulations may be a good thing.  It is just insane in my opinion that a young woman who has been so ultra successful at IVF would have so many embryos transferred.  At 39 the most the doctor would transfer in me was 4 (resulting in a BFN.)  Perhaps if there were more regulations, insurance would be more inclined to cover this medical disability.  It is unfair that someone who chooses to smoke or do other obviously unhealthy activities enjoy covered treatment from the resulting illnesses when we infertiles who through the 'luck of the draw' have a fertility issue do not have coverage to help our disability. (I realize Resolve calls infertility a disease, but I do not like that description - more about that later.)

I am sure there are other silver linings that will appear from this story and if you know me, you know I am ALL about finding the silver lining amongst the clouds.  What do you think?  What are the positives that can come from this media circus???

Posted by Infertility Warrior at 11:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I have been thinking about this post for a long time, because I wonder how many other infertile women have found comfort by the cold embrace of their bathroom floors.  Too many times during my battle with infertility my knees would buckle and I would lie sobbing (often ironically in a fetal position) on the bathroom floor.  Most of these times were spent at my ex's house (it was always 'his' house as he wouldn't let me move in until a BFP, but that's another story.) 

It was a big, bright, beautiful bathroom with fancy traventine marble floors.  Strange how familiar I became with that floor over the years of trying to conceive. Whether it was a negative pregnancy test, the start of my period, the confirmation that I had 'failed' yet again, the floor became my companion, my friend, the only one I could hold on to, to cling to as I sobbed.  Never judging, never uncomfortable at the intensity of my grief, never telling me to stop, never telling me how difficult it was for them, just a solid support for as long as I needed.  A reliable, consistent, trusted friend who has always been there for me, the bathroom floor.

My Story

Life Medals

Posted by Infertility Warrior at 12:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)