Last year’s Christmas photo was hubby and I dressed in Hawaiin gear standing in the snow with our dogs also in Hawaiian shirts and the ducks/geese sans Hawaiin shirts. We went to Hawaii with his family for Christmas in 2015.
This year, I had to top that photo and my husband’s hand surgery in December presented me the perfect photo opportunity. This year’s Christmas letter included our two rounds of IVF plus our photo sentiments about 2016 (there is also a Bah Humbug version of the photo for those that Fuck is too much).
My mother cringed at me including IVF and the words “uterine polyps” in the letter. I asked why with her response that people don’t talk about medical ailments. Really? I have 34 years of Christmas letters written by my mom talking about my brother’s meningitis, my dad’s broken foot, and my dad’s plus my knee surgery. What she meant to say is that people don’t talk about reproductive medicine.
Infertility happens. I know, it is happening to me. It is not what I wanted, but it is what I got. Now I’m going to talk about it until it is no longer taboo, no one ever feels alone when dealing with infertility, and insurance companies step up to cover the expense. I may be talking for awhile. There is nothing shameful about infertility. There is nothing shameful about miscarriages. There is nothing shameful about menstrual cycles or uterine polyps or fibroids or vaginas or labia or breasts. It is all a normal part of life.
On that note, Fuck 2016 and onward to a beautiful 2017! Or at least a better 2017 than 2016!