On Martinis & Manicures

Fertility is a sticky subject - it often goes up there with religion, politics and other things one doesn't discuss "in polite company," but it's been an issue with which I've become well acquainted - through my own journey and that of friends - over the last 15 years.

So it was with interest that I read this Newsweek article this week, about the American Fertility Association holding "Manicures and Martinis" at a chic nail salon in Manhattan. If you discount the oddity of having alcoholic drinks at a fertility info session, it sounds intriguing.

But I was more intrigued to learn about the target audience - women in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Of course, given the "martini" portion of the event, they couldn't very well target it to younger, college-aged women, but I couldn't help but think it should be something expanded to a younger crowd.

I had the rare luck of having a mom who thought understanding one's body was the key to living a long, healthy life - so she drug me to the gynecologist at age 15, when I was clearly having issues that didn't seem to be quite right. It was then that I was initially diagnosed with PCOS. It was then that I knew there was likely a chance of having a significant chance of fertility issues when it came time to having children. It was in the early days of PCOS as a named endocrine disorder and a lot of research and attention have been devoted to it since, but I dealt with it in my own way - I decided I simply wasn't having children. If I didn't want them, I couldn't be disappointed if they never came.

Clearly my thought process evolved over the years. And while I opted not to try having a baby until my later 20s, I did it with the knowledge that it may increase my chances of not conceiving. But fertility wasn't much on my mind - it was the pile of other related issues that come with having PCOS - and I was continually glad that I hadn't had to spend my 20s (or 30s) wondering what was wrong with me.

Back to the article. My opinion is based solely on my experience and the experience of friends, but I think the AFA should expand their campaign and target younger women as well.

I think too little attention is paid to educating young women - those in their late teens and early twenties - about their bodies - fertility included. It is just assumed that once they become "involved" (I don't need crazy people finding my blog) or married that they'll see a doctor and figure things out. Until then ... well, what's the need? I can't imagine how isolated I would have felt discovering my issues on my own and not knowing how or with whom to converse - like the failure of my endocrine system was to be some sort of scarlet A on my head, indicating that my womanhood was all messed up. In reality, it's just biology - but biology of the part wherein a woman's emotions (and often, identity) can be deeply rooted.

I love to see an extension of the campaign by the AFA about understanding how your body works - and what kinds of things are signs that things are not quite "normal" - targeted at college-aged-women. Include information about fertility, but also about how the body works and the power that understanding your body gives you as a woman. I could tell you some pretty shocking stories of things that happen when that kind of information isn't freely shared.

I consider myself fortunate. My mom paved the way for me to have a lifetime of knowledge at a young age, I was blessed with an inherent love of biology and all things physiological, and I was blessed with a child. Yes, my endocrine system is a mess. Yes, I hate some of the resulting issues - but I know what they are and what risk factors they bring. What I deeply wish, however, is that it hadn't been a taboo topic for my grandmothers' generations. Family lore indicates there were 'issues' - quite possibly genetic - but no one knows, because those sorts of things weren't discussed.

Regardless of the little tweaks I think the campaign needs, I'm glad to see it become an open subject of conversation. I plan on doing my own sort of "Your body - here's the deal" with Woodstock down the road. Sans the martinis, of course.