Chances are, many of you have probably seen, and read, Anna Jesus’s opinion piece, “Pregnant in Medical School” in that mecca of print journalism, the Sunday New York Times. I may have exclaimed just a little bit over my granola on Sunday morning – she has what I have! <jaw agape>. And then I read it. And then <cog slowly turning> I had some
non-sense, it’s the middle of the two week wait, people! thoughts.
On one hand: thank goodness we’re talking about vaginas. VAGINA, VAGINA, VAGINA. I mean it. When was the last time you saw “transvaginal ultrasound” in a major print publication and it wasn’t connected to one of these dolts? I’d be lying if I said career wasn’t something I’m trying (desperately) to balance amidst all of this uncertainty. And who doesn’t appreciate a professional woman candid enough to concede her worries about showing up to work smelling of her own vomit?
On the other hand: <hoisting myself up on the ole soapbox> While I know she wasn’t aiming for a thorough social commentary on the matter and so any critique is wildly unfair, her analysis of infertility and her ultimately successful conception and pregnancy seem reductionist and incomplete. Her proposed remedy – which seems to boil down to “put your career on hold and rely on your gainfully-employed partner to support you” – is narrowly tailored to a group of (mostly) highly educated, middle class women and profoundly out of reach for so many others. Yes, she acknowledges that she was lucky, fortunate to have the support of her spouse, and she seems to at least fleetingly concede that “[e]very woman is different” but still, I was left a little wanting.
But…<falls off soapbox into crowd of angry, clawing women> also grateful for any intelligent discussion of not-as-easy-as-it-sounds-conception in the mass media and thankful that another hole has been poked in the shroud of isolation that is infertility. (It’s just that, you know, I’m greedy, so I want to, like, have my infertility cake and eat it, too.)
But enough about me. (If you have
suffered along with me continued reading this far) what did you guys think? ( Besides that I am kind of a smug jerk). What
would you have told your younger, more free-wheeling-maybe-not-yet-ready-to-be-a-mama
 You know, to the tune of marsha, marsha, marsha. Because. Obviously.
 Yours truly. Ahem.