On infertility: Hope merchants and the flippancy of fatherhood

Father’s Day isn’t necessarily an easy one for me. This is Year 41 of not being a dad. I hate how all-in we are societally on “trauma,” but yes, it does feel somewhat “traumatic” at some level. Short version of my arc is that I didn’t get married until 32, so I was “late” by some standards anyway, then that marriage ended at 36, then I got remarried close to 40, and now I’ve been on this generalized infertility journey for 1.5 years or so. It sucks, is the easiest way to say it.

I don’t really have an unifying theme here, but there are a couple of things I would like to comment on quickly:

The idea of being a “hope merchant:” When you are in an infertility spiral deal, what happens is that eventually you start to look at other couples around your orbit and be thinking stuff like, “OK, she’s 31 and they have one kid… that announcement could be coming soon.” Now, most women (well, maybe half) are good at breaking the news of a new baby 1-to-1 to their struggling female friends. Some women suck at this, and blast it on Instagram, and it’s a whole thing that I wish more people would talk about, but it’s hard to discuss because it can feel like you’re attempting to undercut someone else’s joy in the process, and that’s not good either. Anyway. You go to events and birthdays and meetups and you see some woman pull your…