“Who do you think will play her in the movie?” I ask my husband as I pore over People magazine, reading every detail about Nadya Suleman, the Whittier woman who gave birth to octuplets. “I am thinking Janeane Garofalo.”

“No way,” he answered. “Angelina Jolie.” He pointed out Nadya’s plumped lips and long silky hair in the photo spread.

I gasped at my own oversight. Of course, Nadya was the perfect example of life imitating art. There is only one problem--Nadya’s life doesn’t include Brad Pitt, a team of nannies and, most importantly, adopted children from impoverished countries. Her choice to receive multiple IVF treatments appear to have only served her intense desire to be a mother.

Just a month ago, I couldn’t stop crying tears of joy over the Inauguration, Captain Sullenburger’s heroic actions, and the miraculous birth of these eight babies. Overnight, my tears turned sour as friends began losing jobs, selling their houses and watching college funds dwindle to nothing. Soon, the news of Nadya’s other six children hit the airwaves. Her publicist explained that, ‘Yes, she does collect food stamps and aid for her three disabled children.’

Faster than you can say Octomommy, Nadya birthed a new archetype of a mom the media loves to hate: A single, unemployed welfare mom who can’t stop having IVF babies. As radio and television lashed out at her, I, too, felt the urge to judge her. How was she going to care for so many children without a job or partner to help her? Why weren’t her other six children, all under the age of seven, enough to fill the gap of her lonely childhood?

As I sifted through thousands of comments posted on the Internet, I wondered if the media and our obsession with celebrities aren’t partially responsible for the choices she made? We lavish attention on women who refuse to eat, get pregnant in high school and give birth in large numbers. Nadya was obviously well prepared for her debut with a publicist and expectations of payments close to $2 million dollars for a new career as a ‘child-care expert.’

Whenever the media attacks a mother though, it makes me sad. I know how much work and worry it takes to be a mom. When Nadya’s fifteen minutes of fame are over, she will have 14 little ones to feed, bathe and love. She is going to need a lot of money, patience, and Tylenol PM to get her through the next 18 years. And who knows? Maybe one of her children will give the world a gift we never expected. A cure for cancer, the discovery of the elusive gravity particle, or even a solution to this financial mess that we are in right now.

As for now, my tears turn to sweat as I help my girlfriend pack up her house that must be sold. While we work, we sketch out our version of the Octomommy movie. Nadya, played by Angelina Jolie, gives her new babies to moms around the country who could never conceive. Captain Sullenberger flies the plane delivering the children to their new homes; President Obama authorizes the paperwork; and the banks, inspired by Nadya’s generosity, lower everyone’s mortgage to a flat rate of 4%. Brad Pitt then presents us with an Academy Award for our brilliant movie, allowing my girlfriend to hawk her Oscar statue for big bucks and buy her house back. A perfect fairy tale for these difficult days ahead.