I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a fan of Lebron James, for a number of reasons. I think "King" James is egocentric, as evidenced by his one-hour TV special to announce where he would play this fall. (Really? You need an entire hour to talk about your future in the NBA?) He hasn't won a title, yet is still considered the king. Of what, exactly, I'm not sure. And I'm a Magic fan, so his snub of the Magic players during the 2009 playoffs really got my blood boiling. Not to mention how completely fucked our priorities are as a country: where we'd rather pay a basketball star million of dollars a year, while our teachers, police officers, and firefighters make next to nothing to shape the future of our society and put their lives in danger for others. Or where Lebron's decision is top story on the evening news instead of one of the other ten dozen things in this country that need our attention
Despite this, I did end up watching the special last night for the sake of my husband. (The things we do for love.) In a conversation with reporters following the announcement, ESPN showed a brief clip of James's jerseys burning in Cleveland. His response? "I have to do what makes me happy."
At that moment, I empathized with Lebron James.
Yes, he's selfish. Yes, they way he went about announcing his decision was classless. As one reporter here put it, no one goes on national television and breaks up with their wife. He should have done it quietly and privately, out of respect for the Cavs. But, in the same sense, I get it. This was probably not an easy decision for him. As he stated several times in interviews last night, it was never about the money. He could have easily stayed in Cleveland, made more money, and possibly never win a title. Instead, he chose to do what he felt was best for him and what he thought would get him to his ultimate goal: winning a championship.
In many ways, my journey with IF follows a similar path. I've spent so much time trying to have faith that what we were doing would lead us to our ultimate goal (having a baby), only to experience failure after failure. I've had more than one doctor promise that he could get me pregnant. I've been told, "things were perfect" . . . but they were only perfect on paper. And here I am: 27 cycles later and still wondering when it's ever going to be our turn. I've tried to make this work and doctors have tried to make it work for me. The fact is, a drastic changed must be made for us to have a baby. Right now, that drastic change is moving on to IVF. It will leave us with less money. It's a huge gamble. And not everyone is on board with our decision. But we needed to make the best decision for us--regardless of money, loyalty, or emotions.
Lebron tried. He stuck with it and gave it his all, but he alone cannot win a championship. And just like it takes a village to raise a child (or a team to win a trophy), it takes more than one person to make a child. In our case, it takes dozens. So, Lebron may not be the classiest sports star or the most humble, but I get where he's coming from: when you want something so badly and you've waited so long to get it, you'll pull out all of the stops to reach that goal. Because when Lebron is older and out of his prime, he doesn't want to look back and say he's "31 years old with bad knees and no ring."
Just like I don't want to look back and say, "I'm 41 years old with a bad uterus and no baby."