I realized I haven't been keeping up with the marriage-oriented book posts, so I'll just talk about one of my favorites our book club has read lately: The Temperament God Gave Your Spouse by Art and Laraine Bennett.
I read this book about a year into our marriage and gained some really valuable insight. I suggested it to the book club and they jumped on it! It was great to re-read it a year later and still was a worthwhile read.
D and I have very different temperaments. While we were dating, complementing each other by having different personalities seemed ideal, but in day to day life, it becomes...less ideal.
This book helped me appreciate that we are fundamentally different in the way we perceive and react to the world around us, but that neither way was bad. Furthermore, our differences could be a source of growth for both of us, learning to adopt the positive traits of each others' temperaments.
Not to mention it was an easy, entertaining read. It got me thinking back to my psych minor days and missing that aspect of my education. It even got me thinking about going back to school to study psychology more. You know a book has to be pretty good if it piques my interest enough to make me think about giving up all my free time again...
Monday, May 27, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
The unemployment analogy
The impact of infertility is really difficult to understand until you are going through it yourself. I think back on my own misconceptions and assumptions prior to my experience, and I'm a little ashamed of myself and my lack of empathy.
I was thinking about how to explain this experience to someone who isn't going through it. An analogy came to mind: infertility is like unemployment.
The assumption of choice
There are many people who don't work by choice, the same way some couples don't have kids by choice. In both cases, especially if you're certain type of person, some may assume that it is your choice: you're married; you seem comfortable financially; you're young; you're college-educated; you seem healthy; you've got a lot of desirable job skills. From the outside, it looks as though if you wanted a job (or a baby) you could easily get one. For whatever reason, though, it isn't happening.
Unfortunately, there is a sense of shame and failure associated with not being hired or not getting pregnant. You may find yourself wanting to pretend it's your choice, especially if people assume it anyway. Plus if people ask about your lack of a job/kid, it's much less awkward for everyone to pretend you like it that way. Graphic descriptions of pelvic exams and menstrual cycles don't belong in casual conversation. No one is especially interested in the details of the 25 resume revision you made last week.
But then you feel bad, because you don't really have many people to talk to about it with.
The sting of complaints
When you can't seem to find a job, hearing others complain about how hard their jobs are really brings out the indignant green-eyed monster in you. You start having fantasies about slapping them upside the head screaming, "You lazy ingrate! You don't deserve to have a job!"
Much the same way, when others complain about their fertility/pregnancy/children, you may start imagining yourself giving them shaken parent syndrome.
Later, of course, you feel bad for feeling so unsympathetic; others are allowed to have bad days and complain about them.
"They don't know how lucky they have it"
As an adherent Catholic, I've never been a big fan of contraception, although I once was able to understand why people might choose it, though I may not have agreed with it. Now I find myself getting uncharacteristically angry with those who artificially stifle their fertility. Angry. Like if all my inhibitions were down, I'd make snarky remarks like, "oh, it must be nice to be able to play God." As for abortion, take all that and multiply it times 4.
I imagine it's the way an unsuccessful job-seeker feels about someone who doesn't apply for jobs or turns down a position he's offered. "Must be nice to have the luxury of waiting for a job that's a perfect fit" might be the snarky comment that comes to his mind.
Then, of course, you feel bad, because you are not in the other person's shoes, and you can't judge their motives.
The questions
Both scenarios provide an opportunity for obvious or inadvertently offensive questions, like:
The cycle of hope and disappointment
Perhaps the hardest part about either process is the loop of hopeful planning, frustrating waiting, and bitter disappointment.
You search job listings for hours looking for jobs that you are qualified for, you find one you'd be good for and get excited thinking about what it might be like to work for that company, you spend hours perfecting your resume and cover letter, you wait for days and days for a reply, you continue searching for other jobs and see that the one you applied for was filled, you wonder what is wrong with you, you convince yourself next time will be different and repeat the process.
You track your cycle, you do the "baby dance" at the right time and hope for the best, you avoid alcohol/caffeine/over-the-counter medicines/etc after that and imagine the tiny baby growing in you, you wait to see if your period comes, you are down in the dumps for a few days when it does come, you try to convince yourself there's nothing wrong with you, you talk yourself into repeating the process.
Because, in the end, maybe the best way to describe it is that infertility just feels bad.
I was thinking about how to explain this experience to someone who isn't going through it. An analogy came to mind: infertility is like unemployment.
The assumption of choice
There are many people who don't work by choice, the same way some couples don't have kids by choice. In both cases, especially if you're certain type of person, some may assume that it is your choice: you're married; you seem comfortable financially; you're young; you're college-educated; you seem healthy; you've got a lot of desirable job skills. From the outside, it looks as though if you wanted a job (or a baby) you could easily get one. For whatever reason, though, it isn't happening.
Unfortunately, there is a sense of shame and failure associated with not being hired or not getting pregnant. You may find yourself wanting to pretend it's your choice, especially if people assume it anyway. Plus if people ask about your lack of a job/kid, it's much less awkward for everyone to pretend you like it that way. Graphic descriptions of pelvic exams and menstrual cycles don't belong in casual conversation. No one is especially interested in the details of the 25 resume revision you made last week.
But then you feel bad, because you don't really have many people to talk to about it with.
The sting of complaints
When you can't seem to find a job, hearing others complain about how hard their jobs are really brings out the indignant green-eyed monster in you. You start having fantasies about slapping them upside the head screaming, "You lazy ingrate! You don't deserve to have a job!"
Much the same way, when others complain about their fertility/pregnancy/children, you may start imagining yourself giving them shaken parent syndrome.
Later, of course, you feel bad for feeling so unsympathetic; others are allowed to have bad days and complain about them.
"They don't know how lucky they have it"
As an adherent Catholic, I've never been a big fan of contraception, although I once was able to understand why people might choose it, though I may not have agreed with it. Now I find myself getting uncharacteristically angry with those who artificially stifle their fertility. Angry. Like if all my inhibitions were down, I'd make snarky remarks like, "oh, it must be nice to be able to play God." As for abortion, take all that and multiply it times 4.
I imagine it's the way an unsuccessful job-seeker feels about someone who doesn't apply for jobs or turns down a position he's offered. "Must be nice to have the luxury of waiting for a job that's a perfect fit" might be the snarky comment that comes to his mind.
Then, of course, you feel bad, because you are not in the other person's shoes, and you can't judge their motives.
The questions
Both scenarios provide an opportunity for obvious or inadvertently offensive questions, like:
- Are you tracking your cycle?
- Are you looking for jobs online?
- You're having fun trying, though, right?
- You're enjoying all your free time, though, right?
- Have you tried exercising and changing your diet?
- Have you tried wearing nice clothes to interviews?
The cycle of hope and disappointment
Perhaps the hardest part about either process is the loop of hopeful planning, frustrating waiting, and bitter disappointment.
You search job listings for hours looking for jobs that you are qualified for, you find one you'd be good for and get excited thinking about what it might be like to work for that company, you spend hours perfecting your resume and cover letter, you wait for days and days for a reply, you continue searching for other jobs and see that the one you applied for was filled, you wonder what is wrong with you, you convince yourself next time will be different and repeat the process.
You track your cycle, you do the "baby dance" at the right time and hope for the best, you avoid alcohol/caffeine/over-the-counter medicines/etc after that and imagine the tiny baby growing in you, you wait to see if your period comes, you are down in the dumps for a few days when it does come, you try to convince yourself there's nothing wrong with you, you talk yourself into repeating the process.
Because, in the end, maybe the best way to describe it is that infertility just feels bad.
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