Thursday, December 13, 2012


Okay, fine. This comes as no surprise. I mean just look at her. She is more fertile just as she is more thin, more pretty, and way more married-to-a-royal-prince. But whatever.

So, when I got home from work the other night (I swear there’s a sensible transition happening here), my dear, sweet husband said to me – in the calm, nurturing, reassuring tone he probably only uses when speaking to elderly Russian grandmothers who are one breath away from their last (you know, in his job as a hit man doctor) – so [putting his hand on my shoulder now like he’s prepared to break the news that they’re cancelling the Bachelor our dog died] you heard? And that was all he had to say.

Now, I should clarify something (because if one thing’s for sure, THIS needs to be said). We don’t actually know, Kate Middleton. Like, know, know. Or Prince William for that matter. In fact, we have no relationship whatsoever to the British royal family. It turns out, we often say things like Ohhh you want some mohrrrrr? in affected, obnoxious British accents  are just two, sloppy, unrefined Americans. We didn’t even watch the royal wedding (audible gasps from the interwebs).

Anyway, I swear I was making a point. Basically, C was afraid that I would royally (see what I did there?) FLIP when I found out that yet another basically-my-age-but-actually-older (the horror!) brunette was pregnant (did I mention we look nothing alike almost exactly alike?).

So, putting aside the fact that, to the outside world, I am desperately in need of a Xanax (dramatically wipes tears), I am reminded of a central truth in this baby chase and, it turns out, one already pointed out by others much smarter than me: pregnancy is not a zero sum game. Put another way, there is not a finite amount of fertility (or, as the ninnies in the land-o-blogs might say, “baby dust” twinkle twinkle) in the world. It turns out, that my infertility is actually not directly inverse to the seeming mega-fertility (that’s a thing) of those around me. I know! This comes as a total surprise to me also. <serenity now>

(Aside: what is the utter fascination with the regal zygote? I mean, honestly. Why is the American public so totally captivated by the ability of the royal family to reproduce? Civil war in Syria? North Korean rockets? Looming fiscal cliff? CountlessOtherInjusticesWhichShallNotBeNamed? No matter. We're in a fetal stupor; transfixed by aristocratic ovaries. (This from a woman whose incessant nattering on the interwebs, see supra, about her own pelvis and Kate Middleton's is nothing less than insufferable. So yes. I know. The irony of my query is not lost on me. But can't I have it both ways?)).


  1. I've seen special-edition coffee-table-quality magazines on the royal zygote. It's absolutely crazy. And maddening.

  2. I was just thinking that you and Kate look alike... especially when she wears a paper eye patch.