A study has shown a direct relationship between mangled reproductive organs and the presence of a bone known as the black humerus.
The study being me deciding it is fact, and the black humerus being a very twisted funny bone.
Infertility ain't so funny, and TTC ain't very LOL, then why in the name of all that is sacred are so many infertiles and TTCers insanely hilarious?
I've always been one to laugh at the inappropriate, or crack a joke at my own expense, but over the past year and more of trawling the internet for voices on trying to conceive and infertility, I've found myself greatly surprised at the sense of humour that comes through so much of the bad experiences.
There doesn't tend to me be too much 'ha ha my testes are malfunctioning' or 'nah nah nah nah nah your uterus is buckled' but there's a dark, sinister, black humour that seems to go hand in hand in coping with the ridiculousness that is ttc & infertility.
You don't believe me?
Well, what about the example of someone who's been trying to conceive for years, and has menstrual cycles somewhere in the region of 800 days or something similarly batty, yet chooses to call her blog Womb For Improvement !
Somewhere in there she wrote about preparing for an intrusive examination:
8.15am: Have shower wash bits with care, don't want health care professionals thinking I am a mink.
8.16am: Can I be bothered to shave my legs?
8.17am: Yes, don't want the doctor thinking 'No wonder she can't get pregnant who would want to have sex with someone with stubbly legs'.
9.01am: Have to take antibiotics 2 hours before appointment on an empty stomach. Hungry now.
9.30am: Double check instructions for the painkillers. "gently insert one suppository into the rectum two hours before the procedure". Gently!
9.31am: Climb down from the step ladder and put broom handle away.
9.32am: Bit of a rush now have to put two up that orifice and swallow the other.
9.35am: All done and think I got the right slots for everything.
You might say, okay that is nervousness, manifesting as humour, but what about another woman who has faced 3 miscarriages and has siblings dropping sprogs on a weekly basis, and yet picks herself up, and self deprecates all over herself when discussing how she still buys nappies at her company's employee shop:
In my more optimistic days, I even bought some for my own unborn babies (note to oneself, check if they have an expiry date, they're not going to be adorning any little baby's arse in this house soon). These days I'm stocking up for one of my in-laws who is expecting this Autumn. But the looks you get in the shop if you are seen carrying a bale of nappies up to the counter. "Have you news?" Nudge nudge, wink wink. No I haven't, but I'm having fertility treatment and I'll keep you updated when I'm next due to pee on a stick. Now fuck off and leave me alone!!!!
Maybe that's just an Irish thing?
So what about being mocked by your mother about your weight, and the effect it may have on your conception attempts, and yet managing to concoct hilarity from the scraps left of your self esteem:
"Well you see your honor, as I was wiping the KY jelly off of my freshly violated crotch, Dr.Z said to me 'by the way fatty....you cant get pregnant because you're a heffer. Your mother was right!' I don't remember what exactly happened after that, but when I came to I had a clump of hair in my fist and a piece of her shirt stuck between my teeth"
I could, and should, go on and on, but I've got twin frogs to feed and a two week wait to finish.
These are the people that keep me sane, make me realise I'm not as mad as a bag of cats when I talk to my man milk or christen ET's eggs.
It's self preservation.
Having a place where you can turn your misery into a chuckle and get some support and encouragement back in return is a real lifesaver.
I can't speak for everyone else that's on the journey, but it certainly is for me.