I just watched Sunday’s episode of Mad Men. Strangely, with all of its very intense themes and shocking character revelations, something about it struck me so viscerally. The episode hit me right in the gut.
And interestingly enough, it had me questioning some things about infertility, my journey so far, and how infertility has become more (un)natural that I’d prefer it to be.
Mad Men has been one of the very few “safe” shows I’ve been able to watch over the last few years. It only had an extremely brief encounter with infertility in its second season, when Pete Campbell’s wife, Trudy, is having trouble getting pregnant and considers adoption (which, for anyone who’s watched the show – any suspicions their first child might be conceived with donor sperm without Pete’s knowing? Very conspicuously blonde child from two very brunette parents).
But when I was watching shows like Big Love (Nicolette’s pseudo-infertility and Margine’s surrogacy offer to their infertile neighbors) and even, of all things, Sons of Anarchy (the new Sheriff’s wife is seen leaving an RE’s office in tears) – I felt like I was constantly throwing my hands up at these infertility references, going, “really?!” – so while I wasn’t surprised with Mad Men’s dabble in the infertility plotline, I was really surprised by how I responded to this week’s episode.
Sunday’s Mad Men spoilers from here on out.
It was refreshing to see Sally Draper’s pseudo/weirdo boyfriend back on the show in more than just a passing appearance. I’ve always been drawn to his character, his deadpan lines scattered like harsh bombs of painful truth throughout the show. As he and Sally stroll the museum, womanhood comes to Sally in bright red fashion.
Distraught, despite the comfortable relationship with her stepmother Megan, she takes a cab home to Mommy. For Betty, it was a refreshing validation of her role in this new step-family dynamic, especially given some recent episodes where she’s felt so cast aside.
Betty and Sally shared a tender mother-daughter moment in bed, Sally in her pink nightgown clutching a hot water bottle on her tummy. Sally complains that she’s so embarrassed by getting her period.
Betty explains: “Even though it happens every month and it’s unpleasant, it means everything’s working.”
She goes on: “It means everything’s ready for a baby when you want one and maybe you’ll have a beautiful girl, and you can tell her all this.”
I actually said out loud to the TV, as we were watching this a few hours ago:
“Phht. Yeah right.”
. . .
This uniquely sweet moment as Sally enters perilous womanhood in the tumultuous late 60’s got me thinking about my own interactions with my future someday children and how my interactions with them may be tainted by my own experiences with infertility.
Should I be lucky enough to have a daughter of my own, I wonder how that menarche moment will play out. Will I tell her that it means she can have babies now? Will I play that same “if you look at a boy, you’ll get pregnant” line I had drilled into me in high school health class?
Or will I tell her that she really only has a 20% chance of conceiving in any given cycle? Will I tell her about cervical mucus and what concerning symptoms to look out for? Will I make cryptic tick marks on the family calendar, tracking the timing of her cycles? Will I worry: are they too long? Too short?
And then I remember: she won’t have mom’s bad genes.
. . .
This is what infertility does to you: makes you worry about things you really have no business worrying about. Infertility injects a level of uncertainty that burrows deep into your brain, infertility worry synapses firing while you’re watching an episode of Mad Men that has more to do about suicide and mortality that it has to do with infertility.
(Sidebar: I’d been telling Larry for weeks that I thought Lane would bite it. I was totally right, but sad to see it realized on screen all the same.)
I’m not sure what took me aback more: that I had this little outburst of cynicism while watching Mad Men or the fact that it’s associated train of thought about the future “my daughter’s a woman” conversation (and its potential infertility-tainted tone) came just as naturally to me.
Just how jaded have I become?
Can this jade be polished smooth again?
. . .
I’m blaming a good portion of my bitterness on the melancholy weather that has once again descended on New England for another week’s stretch.
But still, that it just comes so naturally and quickly off my tongue…
I don’t like it. I don’t like how infertility has inserted itself the way it has in my psyche.
Mad Men fans: what did you think about this week’s episode? And Peggy! Gah, from last week – I need to dish about Peggy. I’m going to miss her too, but she got out when it was still a high point for her…
Feel free to gather ’round the virtual water cooler and chat up your Mad Men thoughts in the comments.
As a 1950’s-60’s retro nut tho – I have to say this thought was pretty typical of that period (pun intended – ha ha) – everything was rosy – well, until it wasn’t and then you didn’t talk about it. I bet you’d have never found all the infertility discussions going around then that you do now! Here’s to openness and honesty! One of the interesting lessons about Mad Men is that we really can’t go back, can we?
I’m a huge fan of the show. Interesting the timing of this week’s episode: I had to teach my 4th grade girls about getting their periods and I made similar snarky remarks to my teaching partner about it. We watched animations about the menstrual cycle, where the egg releases from the ovary. In my mind, I thought “Yeah, unless you have stupid PCOS and the eggs never release!” This *is* what infertility does.
We can dish about Peggy anytime. But I’m still reeling about what Joan did and Lane!!!! What the hell!?
Wow- interesting. With every article you write and your posts, I learn something new. Thanks – seriously, I mean it. Some of us do not get it but reading about your thoughts and views really helps. I had no idea Hollywood would have such an impact as well. It’s interesting when I see childbirth portrayed in Hollywood and I go — YEAH RIGHT. I can see that infertility would have the same effect on those going through it. I feel so enlightened when I read your posts. Thanks again!
I haven’t watched Mad Men since the first season (i need to set aside some TV time to catch up soon!) so I didn’t see that episode, but I could completely understand your view on it. I get that same sting when my friends complain about period pains but follow it up with, “But at least it’s working!” Then my bitter infertile rears her Medusa head and snaps back that just because you get a period doesn’t mean that you ovulate, that your cervical mucus isn’t hostile, that your partners sperm is perfectly fine, that you don’t have a bicornate uterus, that you don’t have unexplained infertility, that you might not have the proper lining thickness, and on and on. While it’s the bitter infertile in me, it still comes from a place of love. I don’t want them to be disillusioned the way so many of us have. And I wouldn’t want my daughter to be either (as with everyone else- if we’re ever lucky enough to have our adoption match and even have children). I want my children to know their bodies inside and out, and though it might go beyond the normal parenting Birds and Bees every 28 days cycle talk (which is total and utter BS anyway) I want to explain to them the natural signs of ovulation, the signs that it’s missing, and above all to never ever be embarassed by your body- whether it works perfectly or, in Moms case, not so perfectly. Because no matter what- you’re still you and you will find a way to make it work for you.
Oh Keiko I had the very same reaction! I was like or you could have your period and still not be able to get pregnant, CMON! Haha. Also, I loved Peggys exit. She FINALLY showed Don she was an equal and he recognized…it was a sweet moment. Did you know Glenn is the creator Matt Weiners son??? Crazy!
I don’t watch Mad Men and didn’t see the episode, but I asked myself similar questions about how the birds and the bees talk would go if we ever had children. I understand why they tell us that if we look at a boy we’ll get pregnant, but I think current health education does a huge disservice to women. I don’t think it’s in any way responsible to teach NFP or charting as birth control for young women, but how do you give them the truth and teach them more than we learned ourselves?
I had a lot of similar feelings- the scoff/snort @ Betty’s comment, and then sadness at the realization I probably won’t ever tell my daughter the same thing (if I’m ever lucky enough to even HAVE a daughter… Sigh.). Totally overshadowed the larger plot line for me, too. Thanks for writing this.
It can totally be polished smooth again. You’ll only want the best for her and you’ll want positivity to consume her, even if she does have to go through some struggles.