When you are wealthy, people assume you have no problems. Or that if you have problems, they are the kind of problems that others envy. Like "it's costing me so much to fuel my private jet that I can't afford my own pilot" problems. Well, actually, if that is your problem, then I also think you have no problems. (Seriously. Get some perspective.)
However, let me assure you that Fancy People have problems too. And not just the kind of problems that aren't really problems, such as how do I get my nannies to vacuum the pram every evening? (Although, yes that is one of my current issues.) But real, painful, heart-breaking problems. Like an inhospitable uterus.
My husband and I began immediately trying to get pregnant after our wedding. Well, not immediately. We honeymooned in the South Pacific and ate so much ceviche the first day that we both had explosive diarrhea for a month. So right after that. But anyway, I digress.
Fast forward to the infertility game. No explanation. My embryos are Grade A. My uterine lining in gorgeous, or so I’m told. But babies don’t like it in there. I tried not to take it personally. And I took my pain and anger and threw money at it.
And what was the end result? Two gorgeous girls, born within a few months of each other. That's how Fancy People do it. They purchase kids. I wouldn’t change our experience for anything (because then my girls wouldn’t be my girls) but believe me, it didn’t tickle. Money just meant that my only obstacle to parenthood was determination. Eye on the prize, baby.