In our house the television is almost always on. If I’m home alone I have it on for the noise while I’m doing stuff around the house. If B is home it’s on some kind of sports related show to the point where the numbers for the ESPN family of channels are more than a little worn off…or some kind of Maaaaaan movie that Brian has seen a million and one times (and by default I’ve seen it a million and one times too. We could really use a second tv…) and is older than I am with horrible graphics and a scantily clad damsel in distress or some raunchy comedy with lots of cleavage and more than a few fart jokes. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good fart joke, but if you’ve heard one, you’ve basically heard them all.
There are tons, TONS of reality shows out there covering just about any and all topics. American Idol, Survivor, Say Yes to the Dress, What Not to Wear, Celebrity Apprentice, Mob Wives, True Life and the WHOLE multitude of Real Housewives just to name a few.
There are a multitude of shows dealing with babies. Delivering baby, bringing baby home, baby’s first hours home, baby’s first hours in the world, siblings and the new baby, having a baby not knowing you were pregnant, first time parents, second time parents, parents of multiples, parents of large families. Bunches and bunches of shows. All dealing with the joy (and pains) of pregnancy, childbirth and parenting. If the parents in the shows had any difficulties getting pregnant or staying pregnant that part is glossed over, swept under the rug, pushed into the background.
I would faithfully watch a show about infertility. It would be comforting to me to see that I’m not alone. To know that there is someone else who knows what it’s like to miss a period or 4, getting my hopes up only to tumble down into the dark hole of depression when I do get a period or only one line on the pregnancy test.
I would rejoice and shed tears of joy and excitement (and possibly jealousy and envy…) when someone did get the positive pregnancy test. The healthy child. The (biological or adoptive) addition to their family they so desperately wanted, yearned for, tried for, and spent thousands of dollars for.
There might not always be a happy ending, but I think sharing the story, finding acceptance in an infertility diagnosis, looking at options, knowing you weren’t alone could be extremely therapeutic for all involved.
Being able to put a story, a name, a face as someone else that is dealing with infertility and come out the other side, good or bad, and lived to tell the story could help fill that part of my heart infertility ripped out. Help make me feel whole again. Let me know that not being able to have children does not make me less of a woman or wife.
I know I’d watch.
What do you think? Could there be an audience for something like this? Would you watch a show about infertility?