This post is about infertility and adoption. Specifically, it's about Shel and I processing the increasing unlikelihood that we will have our own child, and what we've observed as a disturbing trend among those who encounter us in discussions about our infertility.

We are just this side of sterile as a couple. We can in fact go through about $25,000 in tests and procedures to get a kid of our own (in vitro with some racing modifications or something), but last time I checked, my wallet was a few decimal places short of that kind of dough. So we are stymied for the near future in terms of having our own.

That's been a painful thing to deal with over the last couple of years - as we've gone through an ever-increasing number of tests and an ever-escalating series of treatments, the sense of futility has been sneaking up on us. And now it's here.

Now, that's our problem. And it's uncomfortable: uncomfortable for us, for our family, for our concerned friends, and for anyone else who is unfortunate enough to engage us in conversation about it. But we've got to go through what amounts to a grieving process to get through this, and let it take its course.

That means we are going to be uncomfortable for some time to come.

Here's the bitch: What is it about people that spurs them to blithely suggest adoption within 60 seconds of hearing about our infertility? Do they think that perhaps we have plummeted from the sky and lack knowledge of all such options, or that we are talking to people to find a solution?

An acquaintance was talking with Shel recently, and of course took the quick route out of infertility discomfort to make a novel suggestion: "Why don't you adopt?" Shel responded that although yes, we had considered and were continuing to contemplate adoption, it just wasn't the same as having our own. Their answer? "Yeah, you say that now, but just wait until you get that baby in your arms." Real sensitive, pal. I might add that his wife is about to give birth to their third child.

Now, many of you are actually friends of ours who have indeed been grieving alongside us, and who are not running away from the discomfort of this. For that, we thank you. For the rest of you, on behalf of Shel and myself and for the sake of any other infertile couple you may encounter, I'd like to for once and for all offer the following response:

Thank you -- THANK YOU! -- for suggesting adoption. You know, that has never crossed our minds. Without you, we would probably have wandered in the reproductive wilderness for the next forty years! Oh, what a godsend you've been.

Now stop.

So why do people who hear about us and our fertility problems invariably (and nearly immediately) jump to the adoption option? Because it's easier to offer a solution than to stay in discomfort.

What about our genetic material? What about wanting a child that is an extension of US? Throwing the business of adoption in our faces -- long before it might be appropriate in a conversation -- at a root level invalidates not merely what Shel and I want, but more fundamentally, who Shel and I are.

So cut it out already! If you can't stand staying uncomfortable with us, then don't ask.