Fuck you, Joel Madden

Apparently you let love plan your babies. News flash...that ain't no plan and excuse my infertile ass if I don't jump-for-fucking-joy for you.

You knocked up your girl friend twice without planning so...you MUST be sooooo in love. Too bad my husband and I aren't as in love as you two must be. No, we must not love each other much at all since we had to let Dr. W and at least a dozen highly trained medical professionals and a one or two laymen plan our babies.

While I applaud your charitable efforts and dig your girlfriend's jewelry line I must inform you: That's luck...not love, dude.

By some twist of fate you are fertile and I am not. Mr. Peeveme and I have been through some really dark and uncertain times and STILL are a committed and loving team. My Dh will never be able to look in the eyes of the child I am carrying and see my eyes. We love despite the lack of genetic link. We love despite the fact that we had to spend over 60K and had numerous heartbreaking failures to get here. We love when our dreams have been shattered; when plan A, B, and C have failed. We love in the bad times.

Love is easy when things are good. Anyone can do that. Love that endures the bad times is real and lasting even if it's not fruitful in the reproduction department.

I wish you and your family the best of health and happiness. I don't know you. I don't know your struggles and challenges but you very publicly have something I have always wanted and planned for: child bearing with ease. Good for you. But don't say it's about love because it's not. You don't love your girlfriend more than I love my husband. You don't love your children more than I love mine. I'm infertile and while I have been quite literally "dead inside" (carrying around my dead baby for over a month while waiting for a natural miscarriage) I am not euphemistically dead inside. I love. Surmounting all encumbrance, I love.