While I'm talking about other people's news, I thought I'd send some of you The Duchess's way. You see, every once in a while, there comes a story - a story that is so improbable and outlandish that it is the stuff of legend. Infertility legend.
And those of us who have been down that horrific, lonely road of "Dammit, I just want a kid! Is that so much to ask?!" both revere and loathe stories like this one.
On the one hand, they give us just enough logic-defying hope to keep going, to do just one more cycle, to ask for one more consult, one more ultrasound, to file just one more adoption form. For the "baby who was still there, but hidden behind the one that had died" just before a D&C; for the woman who finally "just relaxes" and gets pregnant; for the urban myth woman who files her adoption paperwork and suddenly finds she's pregnant with no medical intervention; for the woman who's hail-mary specialist finally finds the illusive diagnosis and miracle drug that cures her infertility with a handful of magic beans.
On the other hand... dude, that never happens. So please, for the love of all that is holy, stop TELLING ME ABOUT THEM!
The Duchess's battle with infertility reads largely like the rest of ours. Lots of crap, then finally a baby, followed by some more crap.
But here's where it takes an interesting turn: Her last load of crap came with a surprise. A miracle, to be sure. But I won't ruin the surprise. Go see for yourself. And while you're there. Give her a big hug and some space to freak out. Because mind-blowing is just the tip of the iceberg.
