I have been watching the NZ documentary series Inconceivable, and have some thoughts.
- It only follows couples. I can think of a few reasons for it to do this: (1) the only people willing to be followed were couples, as there is a stigma attached to single ladies doing it for themselves, and any single women they approached were afraid of backlash, (2) they thought that, as single ladies aren’t necessarily experiencing textbook infertility (they might but it isn’t the main reason they go to fertility treatment), and this is ostensibly about infertility, it is off topic (they do have a lesbian couple, where the potential child-bearer is experiencing infertility), (3) they themselves think that single ladies should not be having babies all willy-nilly
- As it only follows couples, their problems are not (yet) my problems. While it is interesting watching their journey, I am not getting much in the way of feelings of solidarity. Which, sure, they are not required to provide, but it would be nice
- I am almost jealous of the couples, even though they are experiencing infertility and I am not (yet/ever), because at least they have each other
It is this third one that I have been thinking about the most lately. If I were in a couple, the emotional side of this endeavour would be much easier to bear – I would have someone going through exactly the same feelings. I would have someone there at all times to talk to about it and to be distracted by.
Ultimately I do want a partner, but this is not why I am jealous. I am jealous of the ability to share the burden of waiting for results, or the disappointment of a negative test.
And I guess this is going to be an aspect of parenting alone for the rest of my life – no shared burden. On the other hand, there will be no arguments about the best way to do things, so… silver lining I guess?
And it is DEFINITELY worth it (I think). I can’t imagine the alternative future where I didn’t have any kids.
One week to go until I find out if this attempt worked. I find myself assuming that it hasn’t this time, and thinking about future cycles. Which probably means that I am actually pregnant this time (both other times I felt pretty pregnant). It kind of feels like I have a really expensive, time consuming, inconvenient hobby that involves drugs, needles in my arms and non-recreational invasions into other places. And that will never end.