As always, the great divide between the childless (either by choice or because of infertility — in my case, brought about because of breast cancer diagnosed at age 37 while @ was desperately trying to have a child) and the mommy militia widens.

If I want to take an 8 week unpaid leave of absence (I already took 8 months during cancer, 3 of which were in the hospital when my fertility preservation — think IVF for cancer patients, your last ditch effort to save your eggs before they get fried by chemo — put me in a coma and required a series of 4 excruciating surgeries and nearly quite literally killed me — so… I’m all good.), I should be able to do so.

Maybe that could be time to reflect on the fact that I’m never going to get the experience of sitting up nights holding my newborn child, breast feeding as my reconstructed silicone breasts wouldn’t feed anything except maybe a Barbie doll, to learn how to answer society’s incessant questions about why I don’t have children at 43, and to craft my art of responding to thoughtless, insensitive tripe like this.