The hurricane that sunk the Andrea Gail in 1991 was called a "perfect storm" because three storms combined into one, creating a weather situation that was so terrible, so frightening, so enormous that it was larger than the sum of its three parts. On their own, the three storms would have done some minor damage. Together, they could sink a ship.

And that's sort of how I think of Pesach--the perfect storm of holidays for an infertile Jew. All the elements that go into the holiday would only cause minor damage on their own. Together, they have the power to sink ships. Or at least drown a grown woman in a vat of Manischewitz wine.

Lest you think Pesach is solely about pretending that your eyes are merely tearing from the bitter herbs instead of staring at your cousin's pregnant belly, it's actually one of my favourite holidays. I love the period of cleaning that comes beforehand as you get all of the chametz out of your house. I love the ritual of it--the same words are said year after year, the same food served year after year. It doesn't matter that I can't eat 90% of the food on the table because I'm a vegetarian. I like the constant.

But still, with all those constants, bring a holiday that is similar to Christmas in terms of the dread and hope emeshed in the day. If you can't have children, you drive to the seder with gritted teeth, wondering who is going to pop out a pregnancy announcement before the first bite of matzah. Once you do have children, there is still a bittersweetness to the holiday, a feeling that you've finally made it when you get to bring your baby to the seder table and have the rest of the family jokingly ask if your newborn is ready to recite the four questions.

I'm telling you, it's hard to be an infertile woman in Nissan.

The Pesach storm is the coming together of three smaller storms:

The first storm is more akin to heavy rainfall, a single-cell storm. It's the fact that any holiday is going to remind you of the passing of time because you're going to remember celebrations past. Pesach, more than other holidays, tends to have so much preparation and ritual surrounding it and it goes on for eight long days, that it's hard to just hide out in your house and forget about it.

The second storm is a little larger; a multi-cell storm with a squall line. I mean, come on, it's right there in the seder: the barren women of Jerusalem. Who the hell wants to hear about those barren women when we have our own down in Maryland? The whole holiday itself centers on children from the idea of renewal and birth, to baby Moses found amongst the reeds, to the death of the first born, to the singing of the Four Questions, to the Four Sons, to the searching for the afikomen, to that goddamn pagan roasted egg staring you in the eye. It is quite literally impossible to go for more than three minutes without someone mentioning children and you thinking about how you can't have one.

The third storm is the largest; a supercell. It's the storm you love the best from the Weather Channel's Storm Week, but it's also the one that rolls you about through a range of emotions: family. It is hard to be around family even when you love them when you're not capable of building the family you want. It's not their fault--they're doing nothing wrong. Your siblings and cousins shouldn't hide their children from you and they shouldn't walk around you on eggshells. Yet, since most people attend a seder on at least the first night (and most go to one on the second night as well) it's conceivable that you'll end up seeing everyone from both sides of the family if you travel enough during the holiday. It's the type of celebration where you note who is there and who is not there--even those not born yet. And it is damn painful to be around family, family who want to talk about family, when you're feeling more in common with the barren women of Jerusalem than the fertile women of West Orange. It is hard to feel so alone when surrounded by that many people who love you.

So what is a Jewish girl to do to survive the perfect storm of holidays?

Rachel Gurevich made a fantastic guide that applies to just about every holiday out there, since we'll all have one that is more difficult to get through than others.

Long Distance Infertility blogged about what Pesach means to her last year (during the cycle she conceived).

Sell Crazy Someplace Else has a great post this week about how she enjoys the holiday.

What are your tips for surviving big family dinners that center on children, children, and nothing but children?

Melissa is the author of the infertility and pregnancy loss blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. She keeps a categorized blogroll of 1700 infertility blogs and writes the daily Lost and Found and Connections Abound, a news source for the infertility blogosphere. Her infertility book, Navigating the Land of If, is forthcoming from Seal Press in June 2009. She is the keeper of the IComLeavWe (International Comment Leaving Week) list which is currently open for April.