The wrong thing to say

Ah, the pressure. The first post. Must be eloquent. Must be funny. Must be intelligent. Likely will be none of the above. I would start at the beginning, but that was too long ago. So instead, let me start with the facts.

1. I am the mother of a 1-year-old boy who is the result of 3 1/2 years trying to conceive, multiple failed Clomid cycles, multiple failed IUIs, multiple failed IVFs, multiple miscarriages and finally one successful IVF cycle.

2. Four months ago I graduated from medical school, but I am not a resident, nor do I think I ever will be. But that still remains to be determined. By the way, the reason I'm not in residency is by my choice, not my rejection.

3. I am 10 weeks pregnant with a very surprising surprise.

The "surprise" is not surprising because we were doing anything to prevent pregnancy (we weren't), but because of #1 above. We had no idea that we could conceive without involving a third party, heavy medications, multiple procedures, some petri dishes, stirrups and porn in a doctor's office. This baby (if it indeed turns into a real baby... pessimists don't give up easily) is what is referred to in the world of IVF as a "freebie," meaning that it didn't cost a cent to conceive (save that bottle of wine). As every fertile person knows, there are two ways for infertile people to get a freebie: "just relax," or "just adopt." In the case of those of us who have children through ART (Assisted Reproductive Technologies), once we get past the hurdle of that first baby, we "just relax" and get pregnant on our own. Which brings up two interesting points.

1. I don't recall any fertile people in my bedroom when we trying to conceive our first. So how is it that they know that I was uptight? Why do they assume that they were so emotionally superior during attempted conception?

2. Since when is having sex with a baby in the house is relaxing? "ShhhHHH! Hurry! Are you done? Shhh... I think I heard him crying. Hurry! He's going to wake up."

I know. I'm being rude. People mean well. The years of infertility have taught me a lot, both good and bad. And one of the unfortunate side effects is that after listening to years of "well-meaning" insensitive comments, I have lost patience for them and have a hard time taking them for what they are: an attempt at support. So here's my helpful guide to the right thing to say, gleaned from years of hearing (and yes, saying) the wrong thing.

In a happy situation: Congratulations! That is absolutely the best news. I am thrilled for you.

In a sad situation: I am so very sorry. You are in my thoughts.

Simple as that.