Infertility Stole My Career!!!

.....recited with a terribly nasal faux Australian accent a la Meryl Streep in Evil Angels. But without the Dingo and baby part, of course.

There comes a time in every woman's life, when she gets sick of working and says "bugger this, time to breed". Now, please don't start querying my feminist credentials here, I'm card-carrying and proud, but I truly don't know anyone who hasn't got to this point, particularly those of us with not-so-exciting careers (raises hand) who have reached A Certain Age (raises other hand) and who finally has a committed, loving partner (raises left leg and promptly collapses).

Perhaps it's a teaching thing. This is the job that sucks the living marrow out of you day after day and spits in your face in pleasure (only slightly melodramatic when you've worked at some of the schools I have). As an aside, I do think it's hilarious that every school has those ra-ra-ra intense careerists running around trying to 'do' everything and climb the ladder. I figure if you're such a damn careerist, you could have chosen a slightly more financially advantageous profession to pursue!

However, with the passage of time, you do become good at what you do and start to look for other, shall we say, challenges. This was where my career was at when we started TTC all those years ago. After 10 years, I'd pretty much perfected the normal stuff (teaching, marking, prep, discipline etc) and was moving into some minor leadership-type roles and pursuing interesting new developments in pedagogy etc., with the support of my brilliant Principal. With the aging of the workforce, mega retirements etc and the fact that all the women my age are out on extended family leave, plus the fact that I came of age in the Kennett Era when most teaching grads didn't even go into teaching, MY TIME HAS COME.

Unfortunately, instead of filling this hole with whatever vestiges of career satisfaction I could possibly have salvaged, I find myself at the bottom of the heap, doing Emergency (relief) teaching so that I can take time off for appointments, random miscarriages and days when I basically feel like shit and can't face a room full of mouthy 16-year-olds.

On top of that, moving interstate twice during these years finds me constantly at the bottom of the ladder at whichever crappy school I can manage to get a job in, getting the worst classes, having no permanency and no say, dealing with the bitch-factor (Teaching is mostly a female concern, ergo the bitch-factor), dealing with constant streams of newly-pregnant colleagues, etc etc.

I like working, but this phase ain't fun.