13 November 2011

It's like elementary school and kickball all over again

So, consider this a drive-by post. Where else can I bitch about this? Lots going on, blah blah, had a chance to try again, but I'm too old, we no longer qualify for free IVF, embryo donation is illegal here, whatevs.

I could handle that. Recently, someone posted an article on Facebook about Orthodox infertile couples in Israel that I had problems with (the article, not the couples. Although, it turns out, I had issues with the couples, as well). It was whiny, the couples interviewed seemed uninterested in the halachic (Jewish law) issues around infertility and were determined to do it their, halacha be damned. I commented that it needn't be that way, and at no time did Hubby and I consider throwing halacha out the window, and we were always open, and we've found people to be supportive, etc., etc., ad naseum, etc.

The poster responded with, "I thought they were very brave for speaking out about this."

GAAAAAAAHHHH! I have been effin' speaking out about this - openly and publicly - for YEARS. Almost since the beginning. We have been begging people to open up about infertility. For some reason, getting dissed by a friend over this article really hit me hard. Not that my friend dissed me, but that I was dissed ON THIS SUBJECT.


I just read this:
"I remembered a midrash I had heard once about souls that are waiting up in heaven to be born. They look down into the world and choose the two people they want to be their parents. They know that those parents will be able to provide them with exactly what they need here on earth. This means that, though imperfect people, we are perfectly matched with our children to help them grow into whom they’re meant to be."
I remember hearing this midrash quite a few times. Never thought about it before. Until now. Because I'm already feeling strangely sensitive. And I get it.

None of the souls picked me n' Hubby for their team. None of the souls want me for a parent. If I had the koach (strength) to keep trying, eventually, there'd be one that would have to pick me, because we'd be the only options left. But I'm stick-a-fork-in-me-and-turn-me-over done. I'm tired of being the last kid standing on the field, freezing her ass off, waiting for all the better options to be chosen.

I went back inside, where it's warm and cozy and I don't care if I get picked or not. So there.

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