Cruel Marketing

I like the Gap Corporation. Very few other companies have expansive lines of clothing for tall women (I am 6' 1/2"). All of the Gap companies (Banana Republic, Old Navy, Athleta, The Gap) have tall sizes for most of their clothes. But this post is not  going to be one of my manic rants about how very few companies make clothes for tall women (which I can go on and on about).

A couple of weeks ago, the Gap began sending me emails promoting their new maternity line. One email is fine. It lets me know about their new product. Two is kind of annoying. But the third email upset me. And I know don't think the emails will stop at just three. Why does the Gap think I want to purchase maternity clothes? At no time have I done anything to cause the Gap to think that I am pregnant, or even planning to be pregnant. I haven't even purchased clothes at babyGap for my nephew or any other baby. Most people probably just delete these messages without a second thought. The Gap marketing team is probably just sending these messages to all women of childbearing age. But...

As someone who recently come to the conclusion that she will probably never get pregnant naturally, I find these emails to be unnecessarily cruel. I know that I am too sensitive these days. I cry easily at TV shows with fertility storylines, babies, and young families. I get upset when I see pregnant teenagers in the grocery store. Don't worry, I'm in therapy. I am working through these confusing emotions, but infertility is not unique to me. I may not be a spokesperson for the infertility movement, but I would like to ask the Gap to reconsider this campaign. Women experiencing conception difficulties may already feel alone, left out, and isolated. Everywhere I go, whether it be a restaurant or Facebook, I see babies and pregnant women. I don't want to also receive email reminders of what I'm missing out on.

To the Gap Corporation, I do have one suggestion: promotional flyers at ob/gyn offices. Pregnant women are a captive audience in the waiting and examining rooms. Some of them may not already be Gap customers, and might need some new clothes. If pharmaceutical companies can plaster their ads all over doctor's offices, why can't a clothing company?

Chemo Killed the Radio Star

I don't know how to write what I want to write. My lack of writing for the past few months was not because I had nothing to say but rather I felt the topic was too confusing, too emotional, and possibly too personal. Luckily, I have my fur baby, Betsy, who has been my nurse/emotional support cat throughout this entire experience, in my lap as I write this post.

Once a cancer victim/patient (you choose) completes chemo and is done with surgery, the assumption of many is that the crisis is over. While the medical treatments relating to the diagnosis may have ended, the emotional healing has barely begun and side effects from chemo may have caused unseen and permanent damage. In one of my early posts, I mentioned a side effect of chemo for breast cancer patients: menopause. While going through chemo, it is common for the female patient to stop ovulating and getting periods. And it happened to me. The younger the patient, the more likely the odds that the ovulation will return after chemo treatments end, so we were optimistic.  Since chemo ended, my periods have been erratic. I have spoken to doctors and nurses, and read online discussion boards, and learned that it can two years for periods to regulate after chemo. My two year marker will be in April. April 8th to be exact.

I don't want to write a long post today. To explain my path and experiences over the past few months would take a while, and will try about it, just not right now. What I will say is that I think my odds of conceiving a baby naturally are low. I came to that realization yesterday. I am no longer going to be cautiously optimistic about getting pregnant. I know the two year marker is still two months away, but the statistical likelihood of my menstrual cycle suddenly normalizing that quickly is nil. And that makes me sad.