Ho, ho, hell.

The holidays are no time to be infertile. ‘Tis the season to parade around your perfect family and revel in your fruitfulness. If you are childless, it’s simply impossible to forget it this time of year.

Normally, I try to go about my day focusing on the things I can control: my work, my house, my marriage. I try to distract myself from the sadness and nagging doubts that arise as a result of infertility (Will I ever have a family? Will my body ever cooperate, ever do what it’s supposed to do without the intervention of medical science? Will this incredibly difficult road ever end with a baby in my arms?). But the holidays make this impossible. Every which way you turn there’s a neon sign pointing back to your barrenness. Holiday cards feature happy faces brimming with wholesome family cheer. Long letters tout little Johnny’s first poop/playdate/piano recital in nauseating detail. Songs carry on about tiny tots and their eyes all aglow. Even Santa with his big, round bowl full of jelly looks vaguely pregnant – and oh so smug about it, too.

It actually occurred to me as I wrote out Christmas cards this year that it was a waste of time. That although, as always, I’d staked out the cutest cards around, they seemed so empty with just my handwritten messages. I had no photos to include, no updates on our thriving family to share. That no one wants my sad, lonely little "happy holidays" message. That it only serves to underscore my failure to produce children to show off. And that, my friends, was a depressing series of thoughts.

My question is, if this time of year is about celebrating the blessings in your life – for most people, their families – then why can’t I send around letters discussing my new job, my great marriage, the new house that I love? I could send around photos of my front porch all tastefully decorated in garland and lights. The answer is that no one cares. The honest truth is that few people actually care about reading those long, self-aggrandizing letters about someone else’s family life either – but when it comes to kids, it’s impolite to admit it. You’re supposed to be interested because everyone is interested in children and everything they do, aren’t they? But I don’t see why I should be interested in details on Halloween costumes and what kinds of vegetables the little ones like anymore than you want to hear about the great project I just finished at work.

The truth is, I wouldn’t be so upset about having to hear those details if I were certain I would get to see my own child do those things someday. But I’m infertile in a fertile world and this holiday, it’s harder than ever.

I don’t know if I’m suggesting that everyone dial back their family-focused holiday greetings, although there’s clearly a fine line between tact and tacky when it comes to those holiday letters in particular. But I do think it’s important for everyone to keep in mind that there are people out there for whom the holidays are a painful reminder of a family life that, for now, is out of reach.

-J