THE CURSE OF THE BAMBINO, OR, THE CURSE OF NO BAMBINOS
Stupid-Asshole-Shit-Head-Mother-Fucking-Dumbass-Loser-Idiotic Red Sox!
I had a whole post prepared on the comparison between being a Sox Fan and dealing with Infertility, but I am just too Goddamned PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW!
I'll be back later, when I can deal.
(I promise)......
.......okay, I am back, I am SO SORRY for the outburst.
I am, of course, much better now, because the Red Sox won tonight's (almost debacle) game, and as such they now advance to the next round in the playoffs. (When I typed the above barage of curse-words, the Sox had taken a 6-1 lead and blown it by tying up the fucking game 6-6.) As luck would have it, they actually swept Anaheim, so now we can move on to the ALCS to face either the Yankees or Minnesota, but we'll face either team well-rested now. Phew! And let's not forget that Anthony is at the game tonight, so I am equally happy to not have to deal with a miserable hubby.
This is actually the perfect segue to what my post was originally going to be about.
The eerie similarity between being infertile and being a Red Sox fan.
(Before any other infertiles out there get angry with me for comparing being a sports fan to the heartbreak of being unable to have a child, stop right there. I am not comparing. I am analogizing. And it is supposed to kind of be a lighthearted joke, so chill out. I need some levity these days).
(Let me also preface this by saying that unless you yourself are a Red Sox fan, you cannot possibly understand how it feels. Unless of course you are a Chicago Cubs fan. Not that I have to explain myself with warnings or anything, after all this is my blog and I can write whatever I want. I just don't want to needlessly upset anyone, so let me repeat, this is kind of a joke.)
Being a Red Sox fan has taught me what it feels like to have your heart break over and over (and over). So has infertility.
The Red Sox have not won the World Series since 1918. For the majority of people alive today, this means they have not won the World Series in our lifetime. So, like, it hasn't happened for us, or at least that is how most of us feel. Kind of like how infertility makes you feel left out of some big party that everyone else is invited to.
And the thing is, everywhere you look, it seems like winning the World Series happens so easily for others. Even expansion teams win! I mean, honestly, the New York Yankees have won the World Series 26 times. I compare this to the crack-whore with 26 illegitimate children. (Sorry, New Yorkers, I LOVE your city and I LOVE the people of New York, I just hate Steinbrenner's Evil Empire.) Just like I hate the crack-whore with 26 kids.
Every baseball season is like a cycle. You start off in the beginning with High Hopes (Maybe this year will finally be THE YEAR!!). After the first couple of games in the season, the fervor with which you started has grown into a sense of frustration, fumbling, and confusion. Much like a cycle. You begin your cycle - whether temping, charting, popping clomid pills like candy, injecting FSH drugs into your skin - you begin with a renewed sense of purpose and hope, that somehow this cycle will be different, that the luck has got to change SOMETIME, right? And a mere few days into your cycle you get depressed, annoyed, confused, and wonder what the hell you are doing and why you are even bothering. I mean, come on, we ALL KNOW what the outcome will be, right? ....1918!
But then, somehow, the season starts going well. You start winning lots of games. You start thinking "could it be? Do I dare allow myself to think it?" And you quickly quash those feelings, thinking I don't want to set myself up for inevitable disappointment. I don't want to give myself false hope. I don't want to CURSE it! But somewhere in the back of your brain there is a little quiet voice that whispers "but look at how great things are going! It COULD happen!" Just like during a cycle.
Some seasons, it is a foregone conclusion that we're out of the race long before we need hard evidence. Just like during a cycle - we didn't properly time the sex/ovulation thing, the dosage of my clomid was ineffective, a polyp has grown back in my uterus - there are some months that you just know "this isn't the one."
But then, some seasons we make the playoffs. And you have an internal tug-of-war with your inner voice saying "Don't you dare get excited! Don't you dare get your hopes up that this season could end up doing anything other than breaking your heart AGAIN!" But you watch the games, you hold your breath, and your team wins, and advances to the next round of the playoffs, one step closer to the World Series, and your team makes you proud, and makes you start to wonder...Just like in a cycle, when your breasts get sore and tender, and you start feeling nauseaus and fatigued during your two-week wait, and you start to think "am I in the home stretch? Do I actually have a shot at this? Is this finally, finally, going to be it? Is it finally happening?"
And then the inevitable happens. They fucking blow it, in the most heartbreaking fashion imaginable. And it pierces your heart to the core, just like that phone call from the clinic or the negative pregnancy test. And your heart breaks. And you get mad at yourself for ever even allowing yourself to become hopeful in the first place. I mean, how dare I get my hopes up, I know better by now. And another season, another cycle, is gone, without the desired results.
Anthony told me he cried in 1986 when the Sox lost the World Series. He actually cried tears. And last year, when we sat in our living room and watched the Sox blow game 7 of the ALCS - a game that was all but won by them until the wheels came off - I thought my dear husband was going to blow his brains out. I myself have only seen Anthony cry twice since I have known him. Once over a relative who had passed away, and once during our quest to get pregnant.
All I know is, if I ever DO have children, I don't think I have the heart to raise them to love the Red Sox. I know it is a tradition and a rite of passage and all that, but I just think that it would be too cruel to do to my kids, to watch their hearts break year after year.
And to be honest, I REALLY don't think I have it in me to watch the playoffs this year. Especially while I still don't know the results of our IVF.
I suppose, though, this COULD be their year, and this COULD be our cycle, right?
Ha! Spoken like a true Red Sox fan.
Will we ever learn?
