Tag: Southern women

Why I don’t want Daenerys to get pregnant

Published / by sandymichelet / Leave a Comment

Welcome to my first (and only) Game of Thrones themed post. Even if you aren’t a fan of the HBO show, don’t worry. This post will still make sense….so keep reading.

The blonde lead actress in the show is always introduced (in a super cool accent) as “Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons”. I don’t wanna brag….but my moniker is similar.

Very similar. But say it with a Louisiana drawl. “Sandy Michelet of Baton Rouge, First of Her Name, the Burnt Food Cooker, Queen of the Wedge Sandals, Devotee of the Wheat Grass Smoothie, Breaker of Rules, and Mother of Brody the Chocolate Lab.” No, it doesn’t have quite the same punch….but it can be a snazzy update for my Facebook profile name.

Early in the series, Daenerys became pregnant with her first child and I remember being silently disappointed. (Don’t judge me.) She was so powerful and kicked butt with her 5′ 2′ frame. I couldn’t imagine how she could continue to overtake cities to build her army while caring for a newborn. Because this is TV, she, in a twisted attempt to save her husband, negotiated with a witch and lost her baby. I had been disappointed when she became pregnant….so when she lost the baby I immediately felt guilty.

What surprised me was how I felt after this scene. Since she was no longer pregnant, I knew she could continue brutally demonstrating her strength and power (and her unwavering commitment to rule the Seven Kingdoms). But why did I think that?! Does that mean that women lose their ability to rule or their ability to topple cities as soon as they become pregnant? Of course not!  But it does show that I had my own expectation about what I wanted this powerful character to be.

I want a childless hero.

Flash forward to last week’s show. Daenerys told Jon Snow that she was sure couldn’t have children (the witch told her). That felt like horrible foreshadowing…I am guessing now that after the one night tryst on last week’s show (with a hottie) she will become pregnant….

I am not sure who said this quote but I love it. “We cannot be what we cannot see”….so shouldn’t the world’s role models reflect, well, the world!?. I don’t want her to have a child…I don’t want her to experience the miracle…I don’t want her to have the greatest gift that she could….aughhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! She has a freaking dragon. Three of them! Isn’t that enough!? Why would she have to have a child to become “complete”?

Daenaerys and I both worry about our legacies. As time goes on, I will begin to fall off family trees because my branches don’t go anywhere. I don’t have a child to continue this awesome blood line of migraines, anxiety and a fondness for junk food. After building an army of over 100,000, she wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms but doesn’t have a silver hair winner of the gene pool to reign once she’s dead. I agree. That is a lot to consider. And I’ve just been worried about who will want my formal china and wedding dress.

I need therapy after group therapy. Or a drink.

Published / by sandymichelet / 4 Comments on I need therapy after group therapy. Or a drink.

There are self help groups for everything so its not a surprise to know there are self help groups for those dealing with infertility. And like other groups, these range from the ridiculous to the downright unhelpful.

It’s hard to put something so basic (like getting pregnant) into words…and it is hard for anyone to give advice if they’ve never walked in someone else’s shoes. I had already talked to people who tried to understand what I was going through.

After googling, talking to therapists, etc I found an infertility support group. I wanted to drink coffee/eat bundt cake while sitting in a circle and hearing about other people’s agony. I wanted to hear the same words come out of other people’s mouths that had been coming out of my mouth for years. I needed that validation that I was not a freak. That I was not losing my mind. And that I. Was. Not. Alone.

The first meeting I attended was at someone’s house…which I kinda appreciated. I didn’t like the idea of being in a clinical setting. (I had been in enough clinical settings….). But I wasn’t sure if I liked the idea of exposing all of my soul to someone on the same couch where they watched Law & Order in pajamas. Not a lot of other options existed, so I headed out my house and drove to someone else’s. Ready to get healed.

When I walked in the door I was most surprised by the large picture of a child in the room. Not really sure what I was expecting…but it actually stopped me in my tracks. I wouldn’t assume if I was going to my first AA meeting that there would be a picture of a bottle of scotch on the registration table. But…I was a group-therapy-virgin. What did I know!? There were a few other people there and we all tried to find a place to sit, while not making eye contact. Before any of us uttered a word we all knew we were in the same boat. We all had high hopes for the group discussion that night….but all had grown accustomed to wanting something and having it ripped from us….so we were all pretty sheepish.

The organizer tried to get us to start talking to each other while we waited for others to arrive. Then I saw the coffee cake. SCORE! So…..Yes! There was coffee! Yes! There was some type of snack. Yes! There was a circle! Well…it was furniture-arranged-in-a-kind-of-a-circle-situation that told me the tears would start a’ flowing soon. Kleenex in hand. Check! Comfy chair. Check! Coffee. Check! Let the healing begin!

The organizer sat down and told us her story. I dug my heels in ready to help her cope. And then it ended like all happy stories end…with a baby. For a minute I was really pissed. I was so happy for this stranger when I found out that her agony was finally over…but good gracious. She was talking to a room full of women who were so wired up on hormones, Clomid and disappointment. We were ready and needed to scream, cry and cuss. And now we were instantly made to feel uncomfortable. How in the WORLD could she try to make me feel better!? I blocked out everything she said after that.

We started going around the circle to tell our stories. I had no idea what to say when it was my turn. The woman to my right was next. She was familiar with the group members so had obviously been there before. Well guess what the heck she said. She came to the group that night for the sole purpose of sharing the news that she had just found out she was pregnant. Am I in the twilight zone? Yay for her. Do NOT come to this meeting to tell us that! We have to pretend we are happy for every other pregnant person in the world….at work….at family events….everywhere….and now…again…at this supposedly safe place when we are overflowing with sadness we now each feel the need to muster a squeaky congratulations.

There are a few rules about being a southern woman. Always send thank you notes. Never host a party without a theme and deviled eggs. And always say please, thank you and congratulations. I did my southern-ly duty. Then picked up my purse and headed to the door. Once inside I tried to choke back the tears while trying to not choke on the 2nd piece of coffee cake. Yes. I had two pieces. At this point I had earned it.