What Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Taught Me About Infertility

Coverage of the tour played on repeat on morning television in the fertility centre. I tried not to be bitter,’ writes Madeline Grey.

Growing up five hours drive away from my dad, I’d receive an album in the mail from him most weeks. Come Friday afternoon, we would dive into discussions over the landline about the music, its history, and most enchantingly for me, the lore — tales of love triangle guitar duels, the beatnik allure of 1970s New York, sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll (the PG version, of course). I was lucky and loved enough to have most classic pop and rock CDs by the time I hit high school.

That’s where, at lunch, my friend handed me her chunky 2007-era phone. ‘Look.’ A video played of a singer a couple of years older than me. She had impossibly luscious curly hair and a country twang that felt a million miles from my small-town Aussie school.

In her bestseller Three Women, Lisa Taddeo wrote: ‘It rarely is a big deal the first time you meet the next VIP of your life.’ I’ve found that to be accurate, but I swear I just knew the moment that friend introduced me to Taylor Swift.

Isn’t she beautiful?’ my friend breathed as we watched the ‘Teardrops on my Guitar’ music video. I think I probably shushed her in embarrassment at the honesty.

Fast forward 17 years, the age of the Eras Tour and Swiftmania, I was 32 and three years into my infertility journey. This began naively, with trying to conceive naturally, before progressing to medication and, finally, ‘good old-fashioned’ IVF. Now a fully-fledged fan, I listened to Taylor Swift on the way to most of my appointments. AirPods stuffed into my ears, eyes disassociating. The lore was still my favourite part, especially the double meanings hidden in clever turns of phrase and motifs. It provided an escape, a way to momentarily sidestep reality. Like the legends before her—Bowie, Carol King, Fleetwood Mac—Swift’s artistry feeds the emotional investment of the listener.