Well, we didn't *go* to the movies. We sat on our couch (correction: I was using my foam roller at the time, so I was on the floor and my husband was on the couch) and used Apple TV to watch previews (best part of the movies!) and then watch a movie. We chose One Day, which came out last year and was (if I recall correctly) panned as a vapid chick flick. Side note: I *like* vapid chick flicks. I also like animated movies and kids' movies. I like romantic comedies and comedies in general. I don't like to be depressed when I am watching a movie. We watched something...The American? With George Clooney? Anyway, that was last winter, I believe, and it was ridiculously depressing. Since then I've kind of put a moratorium on depressing movies. Real life is stressful enough - I would like to escape into the movies, thanks.
Anyway, we watched One Day. It has Anne Hathaway in it and some guy. ;) Her accent was interesting to me - I always wonder what those who have the accent in question think of someone putting it on for a movie like they might change their shirts. I was amused by the outfits and hair and GLASSES as the movie brought us forward in time from 1988 until the present. It was reasonably entertaining, and I thought all was good.
Until the last 15 minutes. And it wasn't even the twist (don't worry, no BIG spoilers here) that got me. It was what came before. She has finally met / married the man she is "meant" to be with, who has a child from a previous relationship (okay, a minor spoiler there). There's an emotional shot where she turns to her husband and says "I want a baby with the man I love." And I thought, oh, dear. Sure enough, fast forward a year, and we learn that she is not yet pregnant. We learn this because she storms off from the bathroom, leaving her husband behind, and says "In case you were wondering, I'm not pregnant." All I could think was, I have so totally said that, and in that exact tone of voice. It was the tone of voice I'd get after my period came, again. It was the tone of voice I'd get when another pee-on-a-stick moment turned into a big fat negative. It was the tone of voice I'd get when yet another friend would announce her pregnancy (usually on the very day I got my period).
I don't think my husband noticed. But, much like Up, I felt like the whiff of infertility and (biological) childlessness that infiltrated this movie came completely out of nowhere and slapped me in the face. In some ways, that mirrors my own experience. I was healthy, with no medical conditions*, and no red flags that would indicate an inability to get pregnant**. I was told by three health care providers that I should have "no problems" getting pregnant***. No reason to think that a baby isn't going to follow relatively soon after we start trying. Until it doesn't. And it won't. Despite our (ahem) efforts, and those of others.
* Of course, during all of the infertility crap, I was diagnosed with diabetes. Dammit. I still waffle on my attitude towards that. Option A (a.k.a., the good health care provider perspective): Gee, I'm glad I was diagnosed, so I can take good care of myself and prevent future problems! Option B (a.k.a., the whiny perspective): Really? Seriously? A chronic condition that I don't want, and that I can't control well no matter what I do? Dammit.
** No history of endometriosis, PCOS, irregular periods, etc. My mother was on Clomid when she got pregnant with my brother, but she got pregnant with me without really trying.
*** First, my GYN NP. Next, the midwife (!) I consulted the month we started trying, since I was trying to be a good patient and follow the rules for pre-conception care. And finally, the department head who did my surgery and said everything looked fine, my tubes were in good shape, and I should have no problems getting pregnant.
It just reminded me that this is never far from my consciousness, at least not yet. I sincerely doubt it affected my husband as it affected me. But it got me thinking about it, yet again, and reminded me that I am still working through all of the ramifications of living childfree not-by-choice.