Ophira Eisenberg - Inside Joke

 

So, I never wanted to have kids. When I was in my 30s, all my friends were sweating about having a family. They would come and say things to me like, “When you see a baby, don't you just want to grab it and then gnaw on its pudgy little thighs and inhale its forehead and then just grab it and run away?” And I was like, “No. [audience chuckles] What are you talking about?” I did not understand their weird Hansel and Gretel fantasies. I just didn't get it. 

 

When I was in my 30s, I had goals. And they were to feed and clothe myself and live in New York. I had goals. I wanted to have a room, a bedroom that could have a bed in it that you could walk around all three sides of. [audience laughter] And then, the big item that if I owned, I thought that would mean I made it was I dreamed of owning a wine fridge. [audience laughter] That was my dream with wine in it that lasted more than one weekend. [audience laughter] 

 

So, I'm the youngest of six kids. Growing up, my mother always said to me, “Never get married and never have kids. They'll ruin your life.” [audience laughter] It's not exactly what you want to hear from your mother. What she meant was that she wanted me to be able to have a career, follow my dreams, not feel pressured to settle down, do whatever I wanted. It was very much like what she wasn't able to do. And I took it to heart. 

 

Now, in my 40s, things started to gel together. I had a bit of a career. I was married to a guy I loved. I traveled. It felt pretty good. So, I ordered a wine fridge. [audience laughter] And then, the next second, just a sledgehammer went through the whole thing. After a routine mammogram, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, early-stage breast cancer. But as you know, there's no such thing as lucky cancer. And I fell apart. Thus started a year of hell. 

 

I did not respond to it by having a Tig Notaro moment and spin the whole thing into comedy gold. I was destroyed. I fell apart. I dragged myself from one surgery and then another surgery, appointments and tests and then 30 days of radiation. I completely lost sense of myself. I didn't relate to who I was in the past. I didn't even know if I could think of who I was in the future. 

 

There's this little bit of wisdom people say all the time that you should live in the moment. Let me tell you something, there is nothing worse than being forced to live in the moment, thinking about the future, like, just musing on what could happen next, that is for the happy and the carefree. 

 

So, at the end of that year, I went to go back to the doctor. And of course, they don't really use the word remission anymore, but he said you responded well to all the treatments and things look really good. So, have a good time and we'll see you in another year and we'll start testing again. 

 

I tried to ease myself back into my old life or figure out what my new life was. Before I could really even get it together, I got pregnant by accident from my husband. [audience laughter] It was unbelievable. Mostly because I honestly didn't think my body was capable of ever doing anything that beautiful. Again, I didn't think that I was ever going to be able to ever just do anything normal. I mean, it was like looking out onto a cracked, barren soil field and seeing just a little, tiny green shoot. 

 

And you know what? I have to admit, I didn't think so much about gnawing on pudgy thighs. I was just so elated that maybe this meant I was supposed to survive. Could I get excited? Should I be concerned? Before I could even pick one, I miscarried. I hate saying that word. I know you hate hearing it. It's so common though, it makes me think we should talk about it more. But I got a call from my OB/GYN saying that the miscarriage was something called a partial molar pregnancy, that is-- It's just a genetic mistake. It's not based on age, or prior health history or nothing. “Bad luck,” as she said. What was growing in me wasn't so much a fetus, but a regular group of cells. What is an irregular group of cells considered? Cancer. 

 

My own pregnancy had given me another cancer scare. And to make sure that it didn't develop into cancer, I needed to go get tested every week by giving blood for six months. I couldn't believe it. I felt like I was never going to be able to move forward. I was depressed. That is an understatement. I wasn't suicidal, that wasn't enough. I didn't want to destroy myself. I wanted to destroy everything. I wanted to rip up the sky, and light everything on fire and watch it all burn to the ground. It was a very dark time. [audience laughter] I'm pretty sure it was summer. [audience laughter] 

 

Now, somehow at the end of that, six months has passed, I'm back in my OB/GYN's office. My husband Jonathan is with me. She delivers a great news, like, “Guess what? It's great. You're cleared, you're good to go.” And then, she says, “So, you guys can try again.” We are just sitting in silence, shocked silence. So much so that she goes, “Well, don't you want to have kids again?” So interesting. 

 

First of all, we never tried to begin with. Second of all, were just trying to get to a place where I just felt normal and in control of my body again. And man, I have been asked, do I want to have kids? Thousands of times in my life. I usually just responded with a bit of a joke, to be honest. I would say, “Sure, I do, but who's going to raise them?” [audience laughter] Or, “Yes, of course, but I live in New York. Where am I going to put them?” 

 

But this time, I just looked at her right in her eyes and I said, “It's too late. I'm too old.” She reminded me that she had many patients of an advanced maternal age. [audience laughter] And she suggested that I go get an egg count test, a blood test and she ended the appointment with saying, “Why don't we just see what happens.” 

 

Now, if anything seemed routine and normal to me, it was giving blood. So, I went into Quest Diagnostics, one of the most casual medical facilities on the planet. [audience laughter] I mean, it's hard to believe that that exists. You walk in, and there's a woman faxing forms and you say, “Hey, I'm here to give some blood.” She puts down the toner and snaps on gloves and you're like-- [audience laughter] She fishes out a syringe from a pencil case. [audience laughter] There's no diplomas on the walls. There's just lockup instructions. [audience laughter] 

 

But she took my blood. And then, a few days later, I got an email from my OB/GYN with a weird number and just a one line note. And it just said, “An encouraging number for someone your age.” [audience laughter] I cried, because it was the nicest thing anyone [audience laughter] in the medical community had said to me for years. I looked at the calendar and I thought, maybe I'll see if Jonathan wants to try. 

 

I told him about the results of the test over breakfast. I said, “Oh, you know, the omelet you made me reminded me.” [audience laughter] And I was like, “Encouraging number my age, encouraging eggs.” Jonathan nodded. He looked very pensive and he said, “While I can imagine us having a life with kids, I can also imagine us not having a life with kids. And we'd be okay. We'd be okay together. We travel and we do nice things. We'd have a nice life, just the two of us as well.” 

 

I knew he was being honest, but I also really felt he was trying to protect me. I mean, he didn't want me going through anything more. He didn't want me to be put in another medical situation or something, another physical thing happened to me. And I got it. I was equally terrified. I wanted nothing more, to just feel like nothing could ever get to me again. 

 

But later that day, weirdly, I found myself writing him an email. My own husband, I wrote him an email, and I just wrote, “I think we should try, because we can't guarantee that we're going to have a kid. We can just try and see what happens. But if we don't try just because we're scared, then the fear has won and I can't live in that world.” And he responded, “Great. Let's do it.” [audience laughter] 

 

So, I will admit though, after month one, when I got my period, I wasn't all like, “We can't guarantee it. We'll just try and see what happens.” I swore at my period, I swore at my body. I was like, “What's going on, encouraging eggs?” I was so mad, and I felt this primal urge in me that I was like, “I have to have a baby and it has to happen now.” [audience laughter] And then, the second month when I didn't get my period, I was just silently terrified. 

 

Now, all through all of this, people kept telling me through all of it, they said, “You need to think positively.” And I would just go “What are you talking about? How can I look at myself in the mirror and lie to myself?” Because I know what it's like when things don't work out the way you want them to. But now I understand what that's about, because it really doesn't matter if you think positive or negative. It has zero influence on the outcome. But it certainly changes how you experience the moment. I'm lucky, I have a one-year-old baby boy at home right now. [audiencecheers and applause] 

 

His name is Lucas. His crib is taking over the room that was supposed to be my dream office. He's learning how to walk and he's always tripping over the wine fridge. [audience laughter] He's sweet. He smiles all the time for no reason. I'm still full of fear, oh my God. So, many question marks loom in the future. But I try to challenge myself. I try to say, “Okay, if everything fell apart, if everything went to hell, the worst way possible, would I think to myself, I am so glad I did not let myself experience joy or happiness in the moment, because it really protected me from the future?” No, life doesn't work like that. 

 

So, now, my goal is sort of like that joke about ruining my life that my mom said to me. My goal is that me, Jonathan and Lucas, that we all get to ruin our lives together. Thank you.