Not that you asked, but I’m in the uniquely devastating position of being unable to have kids the “usual way” (sex). My doctor gives my husband and me a less than 10 percent chance of things “working out naturally” (also, sex). (He loves air quotes.)
I’m done crying over it. You know what I’m going to do now? IVF. That’s right: in-vitro fertilization, which you oppose for some reason. Still, that won’t stop me.
I can’t wait to trample your freedom with my own personal decisions. There’s going to be so much trampling up in here, and by “here,” I mean my uterus. But also up in your rights, somehow, in a way I’m not totally clear about.
We’ll start with some tests. I will be in stirrups up to the knees as a dye is injected into my hoo-ha. It will hurt like a mother. Did I choose infertility? No. But trying to have a kid in this incredibly difficult and painful way? Damn straight.