Good morning everyone. It is so nice to see so many of you back
again, so many familiar faces. And I am truly appreciative of our first time
attendees. You are doing something very
important today. For those of you who
know me, you know that I share my innermost thoughts with you on some of the
things that are most personal to all of us.
The thoughts I have that bring me here today.
Right now, I’m angry. I’m very, very angry.
This has been an impossible year for women’s
health issues. Absolutely impossible. We saw a major foundation dedicated to the
education and research of breast cancer purport to cut funding for mammograms
for political reasons. For the first
time in decades, we have seen attempts to rollback access to contraception – in
fact, we have seen major media figures abuse women – calling one a slut and a
prostitute - simply for supporting
coverage for oral contraceptives. We
have seen multi-state efforts to enact bills to declare an embryo a “person”
under the law advance through several legislative bodies, which would have the
effect of limiting in vitro fertilization treatment. And we have seen members
of a community fight against the building of an infertility clinic instead of
cheering increased access to medically necessary treatment. In an election year, we have seen candidates,
instead of promising to get us more rights, tell us why we don’t need them, or
deserve them, or promise to take them away.
I apologize to the men in the room for
addressing most of my comments to women. But I find that women have an earlier and
clearer view of what infertility means to them.
Being single again, and having recently joined a dating site, I’m
constantly astounded by the numbers of men in their 30s, 40s and even 50s who,
in response to the question whether they want to have children, answer
“someday”. I suspect that so many of
them, if they knew what kind of problems they may have, and didn’t view it as
an affront to their virility, would be more involved in this fight. But until we succeed in educating people
about the causes of infertility as well as de-stigmatizing it, I regret that
this will mostly be a women’s fight. Nevertheless, I want to thank each of the
men in this room for overcoming the cultural bias and joining our efforts here
today. You are truly leaders.
You’re going to hear questions today or you may
have already heard them, about why we should provide a tax credit for a disease
that isn’t even life threatening.
Really? In a country founded on
the inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Where we cover erectile dysfunction drugs,
penile implants and vasectomies? Not to mention many nose jobs and lasik
surgeries. Enough said. What exactly
does life threatening mean to you?
A few weeks ago, I had to go for a
trans-vaginal ultra-sound. I was
experiencing chronic unidentifiable pain
and my doctor just wanted to take a pre-cautionary step. No big deal, right? We’ve all been through
lots of them, right? After going through
double digit cycles, I certainly knew
what to expect. I walked into the examination room, already stripping off my
clothes. I looked at the chair, the condom covered probe, the stirrups, and then
I stopped. I started to shake. I fought with myself, told myself that I was
being ridiculous. I got my jeans off,
draped the robe, and then positioned the screen so that I could see it, as I
had done so many times. I knew what to
look for, afterall.
As the doctor walked in and started to tell me
what to expect, she remembered what my chart said and mumbled something about
my history. With shaking hands and
tears rolling down my face, I told her that I wanted to see the screen. She
didn’t react to my near hysteria, just agreed and said, “a little PTSD? Totally
normal”. Ladies, right now, there are a a
number of states that have either enacted or are considering mandatory
ultra-sound requirements as a condition to an abortion. Governor Tom Corbett of Pennsylvania said
that a medically unnecessary but legally mandatory ultra sound prior to an
abortion isn’t a big deal. “You just have to close your eyes,’ he said. Really? Is that what they're going to tell
rape victims? I wish Governor Corbett had been with me for the hour or so it
took until I stopped my head to toe shaking after my ultra sound, which wasn’t
followed by anything nearly as traumatic as an abortion. For each of you, regardless of the outcome of
your fertility treatments, an ultra sound will always remind you of the fear,
the anxiety, the losses, and will always be wrought with emotions. The violation you feel should not be
minimized. Legislation like this,
requiring a medically unnecessary ultra-sound, should not be tolerated by any
of you.
Less than 2 months ago, the state of Virginia
tried to pass a personhood statute. A personhood statute would mean that procedures
like ICSI, embryo freezing, assisted hatching, and even stem cell research
would be illegal. Could be deemed
“murder” under the law. As some of you
know, I lost my embryos in my divorce, I was forced to give them up and they
were donated to research. While my views
on choice, and when life begins, and the value of stem cell research have not
changed, there are no words to describe the searing pain in my heart as I
watched the state that my ex-husband lives in attempt to make what he forced me
to do a crime, one that I would be complicit in. I am proud to say, that people in this very
room kicked in to action so quickly, and led the fight, and I mean FIGHT, to
defeat that legislation. I am proud of
the work that RESOLVE does on behalf of each and everyone of you and families
across the country to promote and protect access to affordable treatment for
the disease of infertility.
So, was the emotional trauma I felt from a
benign ultra-sound after 10 rounds of IVF life threatening? Or was the gut
wrenching violating pain I felt over the introduction of personhood legislation
life threatening? I'll let you decide.
I have to tell you, as angry as I am about the
assault on women's health care, I am so proud to be an American. I am so proud to live in a country where
anybody, absolutely anybody who wants to, can walk into the Capitol Buildings,
as you will be doing today, and talk to their legislators about what’s
important to them. I have been doing this
on one issue or another since my freshman year in college. Of course, my on
line dating profile mentions this. I have to share you with you a response I received recently:
"you will probably hate me for this but
your comment about getting on the Acela and having access to your
representative seems naive and out of touch with reality. You are either
privileged enough to have serious connections or are going with a big
check/bribe. That is the reality."
That's not reality. This kind of attitude is probably the reason
why not much more than about half of the people in this country vote, even in a
presidential election year. But as I
stated before, when people get together to act, change happens.
At the hearing on the contraceptive coverage
rule, when faced with an all-male panel of “experts”, Congresswoman Carolyn
Maloney asked “where are the women?”. I ask the same question today. I am grateful for each one of you for your
attendance here. But infertility is a
disease that affects ONE in EIGHT families in this country, 7.3 million people.
Why aren’t more wannabe moms and dads here today? As the examples I just gave you a few minutes
ago demonstrated, when the women fight, bad rules or bad acts are rolled back. After the backlash against the Susan B Komen
foundation for cutting funding to Planned Parenthood for mammograms, they
restored that funding. When RESOLVE ran in front of the Virginia legislature to
prevent the personhood bill, it was withdrawn. If we want to see more rights
for infertility patients, we need all of you, and your families, and your
friends, your colleagues, your husbands’ friends, your doctors, everyone
touched by infertility to rise up and fight for the rights that we, as patients
with a disease, deserve. What you are doing here today is not just the
privilege of being an American, it is your sacred responsibility. Act proudly.
Once upon a time, each of us had sex for the
very first time. I’m going to go out on
a limb here and suggest that wanting a baby was the furthest thing from your
mind that night. I’m guessing that
instead, you hoped, you prayed, you wished on an eyelash, that you weren’t
pregnant. Because having a baby then would threaten the dreams that you had for
your life.
How far you’ve come and how much thing have
changed. I don’t want to speak for
anyone else here, but every dream I ever had for how my life would unfold has
been altered. Life threatening? I don’t
know how you define that. But certainly, the dreams I had for my life have been
more than threatened, they have been destroyed.
I have learned to go on, to work, to play, to laugh, to drink, but that
pain still is, and always will be, a part of me, it has changed the life I lead
and who I am. Nevertheless, my friends who either had an easy time becoming
parents, or those who didn't feel the same way I do, ask me all of the time why
I'm still doing this, if it's causing me to hold onto the pain unnecessarily. I often ask myself the same thing.
Three weeks ago, I was on a second date with
someone I actually liked. Truly
intelligent, engaged and engaging, no visible deviancies or social diseases and
very handsome. We were sharing
confidences and stories and there may have even been a kiss or two. It was going really well. The background music all night had been
amazing, lots of classic rock and roll ballads. Perfect score for a perfect
evening. We were completely focused on
each other. Suddenly, I became aware of
the song being played, Imagine by John Lennon.
And not that I wanted to, but in that moment, I couldn't help it, I thought
of all of you, of each of you. And each of the 7.3 million people who
desperately want to and deserve to become parents. Who didn't choose to be
infertile. I thought of all of the
dreams each of you have. And my heart ached for each one of you. And while I tried to hold them back, I had
tears coming out of my eyes and rolling down my face. The lyrics just really
told the story of why I'm here today: “You may say I’m a dreamer. But I’m not
the only one. I hope someday you will
join us. And the world will live as one.”
I knew in that moment that I'm not stopping this fight. I thank you for joining me.
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