Could be . . . who knows?

On Sunday night I met with my book club. I love how you can put the label of "book club" on a monthly gathering of ex-Bath & Body Works employees getting somewhat snockered on cheap merlot while gossiping and, oh yeah, talking briefly about a book, and it sounds somewhat intellectually valuable.

There are five of us in book club, four of us married. The one that isn't married, A., is currently 32 and is in the first long-term relationship where she has actually considered (and they've actually talked about) marriage. What's even more surprising to her (and to us) is that she can actually see herself wanting to have kids with him.

This is was implausible in the past -- A. is the type of woman who really, really values independence, tidiness, and order. This is the woman who purposely chose the glowing, cream-colored, doesn't-hide-spills-well berber carpeting for her townhouse; who chose the Bath & Body Works soap-and-lotion sets to have in each bathroom based on whether the lotion color blended with her shower curtain (Warm Vanilla Sugar downstairs, Cucumber Melon up). We all gawked at her maternal admission, baffled.

Then A. asked C., who is a nurse, "But we'll probably want to wait a few years after we get married to have kids. Is 35 too old to start having kids?" Of course, a chorus of "NOs" resounded from the four of us, still dumbfounded that she would be asking anything having to do with offspring at all. She continued, "Because who knows if my system will still be working then? If it's working now, that is."

Of course, I thought of all of the women that I have grown to care for deeply over the past few months. How that little "if" in "If it's working now" can so quickly devastate all of the plans that someone has made for their life since their childhood. Because, really, there usually is no way a person knows about their own fertility until it is already drastically altering their life. It's scary to know that the answer to whether you yourself, as a man or a woman, can create life -- a central part of many people's lives -- has been with you for years, but you don't know that answer until you actually take the leap and start trying.

Few people consider, before the fact, the possibility that they may be infertile. For that reason, most haven't done any research on the cost, financial and otherwise, of infertility treatments, have a hard time understanding the dizzying throng of emotions that go along with infertility, and don't know not to say, "I guess it's part of God's plan" or "Why don't you just adopt?" It's sad that in many cases, the only people who understand infertility are other people experiencing it.

For that reason, I'd like to say thank you to the women who have opened my eyes and taught me so much about how to be a friend -- not just a friend to people struggling with infertility, but to anyone. The support you show each other is amazing. Thank you for sharing your stories -- it really helps those of us who haven't experienced infertility (or perhaps, in a case like me, haven't experienced it yet, because really . . . who knows?) how to be sensitive and understanding with others in need.

You are truly strong, beautiful people.