I can?t believe after my too-long previous post I have more to say, but must add:
Another experience I have had was of holding a normally fertile friend?s hand as she wept because the scan had showed her last DC was another boy. As I was between DS1 and DS2 and quite open about it, I did ask myself: is she insensitive to bring this complaint to me who can?t even get pg? Actually, I was proud. By trusting me with her grief she had shown that I, too, despite my incompetence at making children, had become a full member of the Mothers? Club. I was in the club because I understood why she did cry: in a way, not being able to control the gender of your child brings up the same sense of powerlessness as infertility does.
Having children is all about feeling frighteningly helpless. And this isn?t the modern pattern. We are taught to control everything, to choose from 100 cereals, we are furious if power turns out to come from money and not all of us have enough money, we prove we are adult by choosing so calmly and well. Once our DC are involved, the stakes are much higher: hurt me, but DON?T TOUCH my child!
Yet pregnancy: at first the baby is inside you, almost part of you like an extra organ. (Not that you really control your organs. Mine are going to give me a terrible hangover if I don?t go to bed soon.) Then you are in labour and anyone who thinks they can control that has obviously not had a DC. Then they are in the terrible twos, or they encounter a beastly person who oddly doesn?t share your view that DC is perfect, or if you luckily get so far unscathed, DC will announce the worst possible partner or a move to the country you spent your life escaping?
Infertility: you don?t touch alcohol for a decade (what if this is the week you finally get pg?) or coffee either (marginally higher risk of MC?), raw fish, soft cheese, cats. You don?t run the marathon. You have sex though you are mad at DH. Your doctor tells you to inject yourself in the stomach every day at the same time, whether you are on a longhaul flight or at DC1?s school play. Still you can?t guarantee any of this will ever result in a child.
We argue because we know how much it matters: can we control our wish for this particular kind of child? Will trying to control gender lead to trying to control everything else too? Should I have to control my desire for control? Should the government control me? Is there anyone anywhere in control?
Motherhood is ABOUT control and its terrifying absence, which is why I thank you all for MN: the is-DC?s-shyness-my-fault-or-a-mysterious-ailment, the my-friend-is-being-crazy-about-who-comes-to-her-wedding, the should-I-control-my-response-even-though-someone-else-is being-VVUR. This is the silver lining in the cloud: our shared fear of losing control brings us together. (And here endeth the sermon. Sorry, clearly I can?t even control my own droning on!)