Welcome back. Pardon me while I tidy up a bit.  

I need to get some of the dust and cobwebs off the furniture so I can offer those involved in the Healing Salon a place to sit, ponder and participate.

For those new to this blog, here's some background on it: The  Coming2Terms posts were initially written under a pseudonym. This allowed me the freedom for cathartic writing about my futile trying to conceive (TTC) experience and the losses associated with it. I could experience and process all the raw thoughts and emotions in a safe place and express things I wasn't comfortable articulating in my offline life. Through C2T, I connected with women who have profoundly influenced my life.

My blog began at the end of a decade of TTC, unexplained infertility, unsuccessful treatment followed by more unsuccessful treatment, followed by anger, sadness, grief and, ultimately, acceptance...

In the early days of TTC all I'd ever hear about were the success stories. The infertility (IF) blogroll maintained by Stirrup Queen Mel and the community it fostered offered a place to let my hair down, but after treatments failed it was hard not to feel like an outcast. I couldn't hide (in real life or online) from, at times, pain-inducing pregnancy announcements or joys of motherhood stories.

At times it felt as though the IF blogroll was a living room with three doors. Door #1: in treatment; door #2: on the path to, or actively parenting, by way of pregnancy/adoption; door #3: the door no one wanted to open — reconciling a life without once sought after children. The world beyond door #3 became my little niche of the infertility blogosphere. 

After several years of thrashing about I concluded that part of my inability to move forward and find peace was the lack of real life, relate-able stories of women who had walked in my shoes, stumbled and gotten back on their feet.

In time I went public with my story. I also wrote a book called Silent Sorority.

My "outing" brought about a new responsibility and accountability.  I not only became more measured in what I said, the nowhere-to-hide-nature of my writing forced me, further, to think about the impact of my words on others. Did I become less provocative and colorful in my blogging? Perhaps, but because I was more circumspect I also began to explore the motivations behind what I thought and felt. It was no longer just about me, but about me and the infertility experience in the context of the world in which I lived.

As longtime readers know, a few years ago I retired Coming2Terms and set up a new blog called A Fresh Start.  The break was symbolic on many levels. It gave me an official way to declare an end to my infertility crisis days. The impetus for my new space? To no longer wrestle with the "what ifs," and instead to live the "what is" — my life after infertility. It's a life that doesn't involve parenting, but it does offer a whole new world of discovery and a different series of enriching experiences.

So why am I participating in Mel's Healing Salon? It began with a dustup involving a set of infertility bloggers who, after becoming mothers, made a move to create their own community called PAIL (parenting/pregnant after infertility and loss), separate from the larger infertility community that includes some 3,000 blogs categorized further into a variety of smaller subsets.

My initial reaction to the catfight had been, Seriously...?

But the more I read, the more I found the spirited "can you believe what she said?..." "that is so not what I meant..." "how dare you?" nature of the commentary sort of refreshing. I also found it curious that the alienation each group was claiming was, in fact, universal.

Silly me. All along I thought it was just those of us behind door #3 feeling left out.

I would preferred the bloggers and commenters used their real names (as I think that would have made it even more honest) but, nonetheless, I think the discussion blew the doors off what has long been a set of dirty little secrets within the larger infertility blogging community. Here are my observations gleaned over the years:

- most of the women who enter the infertility blogosphere come to it with blinders on
- many of us don't know how to offer support to those on different paths
- some of us are better equipped to handle the truth than others
- alienation occurs in every community — even those created to provide a haven for those feeling alienated
- it's easy to overlook the grey when you live in a black and white world (e.g. there are those "ttc or those parenting")
- many of us arrived with preconceived ideas (prejudices) and our writing tends to reflect accordingly, but for the most part we do our best to grow from this infertility experience
- we ultimately gravitate toward those we have the most in common with ...

I fully recognize that it must be hard to resist falling into the all things mom (or Momzilla trap) after working so hard to achieve motherhood. There must be great temptation to "pass" and disregard the scars of infertility.

There was so much indignation from the two dominant groups (those still TTC and those now parenting after infertility) that quite a number of us in the minority were drowned out in the conversation that followed. Here's the comment I left on the initial thread.

Now, as part of the Healing Salon discussion, a couple questions to consider. The PAIL initiative provoked strong reactions. Do you see other underlying issues — abandonment, guilt, a wish to forget? If you're parenting after infertility or not: Do you make an effort to empathize or to keep relationships alive with those who are outside your current tribe? If not, why? If you are or are not raising children, how might your writing/reading habits be different?

Update: You can read more and participate with all who are hosting Healing Salons here.

Update: As evidence of a sea change in how infertility is portrayed, Yahoo Shine featured on its homepage a story about "the growing women's movement to de-stigmatize infertility." It came in the wake of the latest edition of Our Bodies, Ourselves (which includes an expanded section on not just the physical but the emotional aspects of infertility) and Redbook's Truth About Trying campaign, referenced below. Feels great to be part of an effort to limit prejudice and open up a new dialogue about a long misunderstood disease.

~~~~

It's bittersweet to visit my old blog.

Coming2Terms holds many raw, competing emotions, growing pains, and, yes, what were once a few secrets. It's all here, naked and unvarnished, available for anyone curious to know where my infertility journey took me and how my life unfolded. Five years on from Coming2Terms' origin, this little slice of the Internet remains a strong force in my life, responsible in many ways for ushering me along to where I am today.

The knowledge that more than a few women (and men) are just now arriving where I once began is what led me to create a video for Redbook's newly launched infertility campaign, The Truth About Trying.  The question we were asked to address in our videos: What is it we wish we'd known...

You'll find my answer (also captured in this post headline) among many other answers, including a video response from my fellow "life after infertility" blogger Lisa. Her latest blog post relates what she experienced at the campaign launch. (I hear you, sister!)

Redbook hopes these initial contributions spur many more women to make their own videos, all in the service of reducing stigma and fostering greater understanding and empathy.

Meanwhile, wishing all — regardless of where you are on your own journey — much peace and happiness.

The new blog name came to me this morning: A Fresh Start



After all, isn't that what we crave when we've come through a gut-wrenchingly difficult experience? Coming2Terms went a long way to helping me realize that women without children after infertility experience tremendous isolation. We often feel like misfits, square pegs trying to fit into round holes. That's in large part because we don't have readily available support networks, our own easy-to-locate tribe to turn to following an emotional body slam. For those who go on to parent, there are play groups, the PTA, etc., etc.,

What we bad ass chicks have been lacking is our own space to get a fresh start with new dreams that don't involve being mothers, complete with private jokes and the finishing of each others' sentences. I've always prided myself on being independent and self-sufficient but I've also learned that I'm not a hermit. I enjoy some good old-fashioned "hey, how's it goin?" moments with those who share a common bond — an emotional tattoo of sorts. Apparently, "participation in social networks" and helping others is essential to happiness. This newsflash came in new findings highlighting that:

“Human beings are in some ways like bees,” Professor Haidt said. “We evolved to live in intensely social groups, and we don’t do as well when freed from hives...one thing that can make a lasting difference to your contentment is to work with others on a cause larger than yourself."

Professor Haidt has a point. This email, which arrived earlier today, brought some happiness with it:

"Your book (Silent Sorority) was my voice. I was shocked to find women like me—-feeling what I feel, saying what I said and crying like I had cried. I had been so wrapped up in my lonely world—I didn't realize there were so many women out there like me! I belonged to a group—-it was uplifting and even empowering. After reading your book, I began to heal. And that is when happiness started to fill my mind, my spirit, my heart and my soul. I am healed? Not yet—-but I am closer than I have ever been! So, I look forward to your new blog—where we can share happiness in our lives instead of the sadness!"

So, as I bid farewell to Coming2Terms it seemed fitting to leave as the last post one that I wrote six months ago in my first attempt to close the door and open a window: Barren Doesn't Mean Empty.

Now all you Barren-Nesses...bring your liberating moments, your black and other assorted colors of humor, and your all-around sassy, special selves over here for A Fresh Start.

Updated 1/4/2010
Wanted to share a TV interview scheduled at the end of last year that took place today on the ABC affiliate KXTV. I hope you find that it moves the discussion away from OctoMom and the related soap opera reality TV shows focused on unusual fertility treatment outcomes to the more basic realities faced by couples coping with infertility. Please feel free to share. You can view the video from the KXTV website here:

* * * *
Original post from 12/30/2009

I made my way into our coffee-perfumed kitchen yesterday morning and heard my better half in the garage. I opened the door into the chilled place that holds stuff that doesn't rank storage space in the house and found him wrestling with a large, black plastic bag.

Trash day... of course.

Minutes later as my head got its first jolt of caffeine it dawned on me that this was not your average trash day. It was the last trash day of the decade! Oh, the opportunities to purge, de-content, toss and recycle 10 years of God knows what flooded my brain.

I'm a metaphor person. I also relish tidy bookends. Into my second cup of coffee I started to groove on the idea of bundling up the tired, weighty emotional baggage from the past 10 years of life and placing it on the curb.

Since publishing Silent Sorority (five years in the making) earlier this year I've been on high alert for signs of unfinished infertility business, halting denial, delusional wishful thinking.  I've had some false starts in the infertility reconciliation department to be sure, but in recent months I've reached a new level of readiness. Good riddance Decade From [Infertility] Hell! (How appropriate in so many ways is this Time magazine cover?)

The dawn of a new decade provides a unique chance to turn the page, literally, and face the future unshackled by the ghosts and broken dreams that dominated 1999-2009. And I'm ready. I mean REEAAALLLY ready.  Eager even. As I foreshadowed in a post last May, I've started looking not down, not backwards, but UP!

While Coming2Terms will remain in place as testament to where I've we've come from — 275 posts and nearly 5,000 comments in the almost three years — I've been dabbling with the makings of a new blog that gives those of us without children a place to share "I not only survived, I'm thriving" stories. Categories will range from Different Than I Expected to Romance 24x7 to Awesome Aunts to Spontaneity to What I Did With $ Not Spent on Babysitters, Daycare, Etc. And for those sometimes poignant flashbacks, Remembrance. The new blog (here's an early look) is in its formative stages so your contributions and ideas are welcome.    

And with an eye to all good things that a new decade and new beginnings can bring, here's to renewed hope, much joy and lives well lived.  Cheers!

M E M O R A N D U M

To: The Fertile Community
From: The Infertile Community
RE: Bridging the Chasm Caused by Infertility

We're talking about you, and, I confess, it's not always in a good way. We spend a fair amount of time in the infertility community sharing anecdotes about how little our "fertile" friends, family and acquaintances "get us." You give us lots of good material to work with. Just a few days ago, The Wall Street Journal (who would have thought?) had a blog post up, The Swell Season: Haunted by Reminders of Infertility, that provided some examples of the typical casual dismissals and a few downright, huhs?

For instance someone (clearly fertile) likened infertility to "an allergy that you 'should just accept' and move on from..."

Um, I have allergies and I am infertile. So not even in the same ballpark.

And from the woman who had an easy pregnancy, "why shouldn’t I be able to gloat? I was the happiest pregnant woman out there and only gained 15-18 lbs total."

Is gloating ever a good thing? Heads up, gloating girl, here's the definition: To feel or express great, often malicious, pleasure or self-satisfaction. Now I just hope your son/daughter doesn't face infertility 'cause I get the feeling you're not going to handle it very well...

To be fair there were also some comments surmising that infertility would likely be difficult to experience:  "I think that extended infertility and/or the thought that I would never have kids would be pretty hard to take." BINGO!

But in this time of brotherly love, I do want to highlight those who DO get us — one couple in particular shared a level of sensitivity and understanding that truly stands apart. They are the latest recipients of the Coming2Terms Act of Kindness Award. ... << MORE >>

My, my...how times have changed. Two years ago I could barely summon the courage to acknowledge at a BlogHer holiday meetup that I blogged about infertility. Now, I'm practically wearing a sash. 
I now chat about infertility with such ease that I sometimes forget that those outside of the infertility community need a little time to wrap their heads around the complex set of ideas we routinely discuss online. For the uninitiated I have to take a deep breath, slow down and move with them through Phase I — aka the "awkward phase" when someone first attempts to contemplate what infertiles face.

For instance, on Monday night I was an author guest on Michael Ray Dresser's Internet radio show. I haven't figured out how to upload the MP3 file yet, but in the early part of our conversation he seemed positively floored trying to consider what it might feel like to walk into a room knowing that anyone who conducts a Google search could learn that— among my many other attributes — I am, ta da, infertile. As we got further into our conversation he started wondering about how infertility affects relationships, identity, planning for the future, small talk about children...welcome to my world, Mr. Dresser. He caught on pretty fast that infertlity involves some serious and unpredictable challenges. 

It's been a busy week wearing the sash. I was also a guest on Big Blend Radio discussing more about the impacts of infertility and why I wrote Silent Sorority. You can tune in here.  Anyone else donned the sash in conversation lately?

Anyone out there remember playing the board game LIFE? It's been years since I spun the wheel of fate, but during a visit with friends who have a seven-year-old daughter and nine- and 11-year-old sons I was invited to put a pink peg in a car and see what life had in store for me. On the living room floor in between turns I watched college football and snacked on cheese, nuts and assorted spreads while the other adults relaxed on the sofa and chairs.

The game didn't take much concentration since the kids were content to move my car according to my spin result and keep the pay day cash coming my way. I was well into my first glass of wine, and nearly to the end of the game, when I looked down and realized I was the only car without child pegs. I turned to my girl pal and asked her where I could get my kids. She matter of factly explained, "you've passed the point where you can have kids," before reaching over to refill her snack bowl.

What? You mean there are no fertility clinics on the board where I can dole out loads of cash?

So much for escaping reality. Even in the game of life, I was the "infertile" car. 

Hey, I think it's time for a refill of that Pinot Noir ...

But there was a silver lining. On the space demanding daycare payment for each child in the care, guess who was exempt?

You betcha!

Later in the weekend my guy and I watched the thought-provoking documentary Food, Inc.  Among the many memorable scenes in the film was one involving Barbara Kowalcyk who lost her toddler son after he ate an e.coli-laced hamburger.  She turned her pain into action and is now a food advocate who helped bring about Kevin's Law, the Meat and Poultry Pathogen Reduction and Enforcement Act .  In one interview about how people respond to her, she said one of the toughest aspects of her work was dealing with the pity that often comes her way. "It's not pity I want," she said. She preferred that people take action.

This brings me to a reader email I received about pity.

"I'm curious to know how you would respond to those who offer over-the-top pity. I know a woman who dramatically talks about our 'empty arms' and repeatedly says how her heart aches so deeply for us.She did a blog entry about us: 'I weep knowing how hard they have tried to have a baby and still have empty arms.' I can't pinpoint why, but her words turn my stomach inside out. Short of avoiding her, I'd like to know a good way to respond to such extreme comments while remaining poised. Often these comments are presented in person and as you may know, it's sure hard to think on your feet when you have to respond in the moment."

I can so totally relate to that uncomfortable feeling. My response would likely be an extension of Barbara's answer ... "We're trying to move beyond sadness to acceptance. While I appreciate your deep sense of the loss involved it isn't helpful to be reminded of the pain."

I've found the most helpful responses when someone learns of our experience is simply to acknowledge the difficulties we faced with a quiet and sincere, "I'm sorry," or "I admire your strength."

Welcome other responses... 

And for those of you who have been waiting for the ebook version of Silent Sorority, your wait is over! It is now available thanks to Smashwords, and can be found at Barnes & Noble. Stay tuned for updates on Amazon.com's Kindle and the ebook store from Sony.

Serenity now! That's the collective thought for most couples as they navigate through the holidays and try to keep infertility from becoming a buzz kill of the worst kind.

There are more than a few givens that come with this season. One of them is that we're about to be inundated with holiday tunes, which gave me the germ of an idea for my Barren not Beaten column on Fertility Authority. It's my musically-challenged attempt to give those in the midst of ttc ("trying to conceive" for the lay person), or trying to move on the confidence that they, too, will survive.

I'd like to take the idea a step further for those inclined to comment here.  Simply share a tune with modified lyrics — something that lends itself to a good distraction for an awkward encounter.

p.s. I'll also be doing some radio interviews in the next few weeks on this very topic — when infertility and the holidays collide. Welcome your coping tips. Think of it as a potluck of ideas.

                                                                                            
Updated to share two links revealing a reality different than what the conventional mom community experiences:

• Grown In My Heart, an adoption network, reviews Silent Sorority
• A Casting Call for Drew Barrymore, David Duchovny

Ack! What's going on? If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd be convinced we were in the midst of a well-coordinated, full-on assault against those who can't or don't have children.

You may recall the judgmental Orlando Sentinel Mom's at Work blog I referenced in my last post. Who knew it was the tip of the iceberg?
This week Mika Brzezinski weighs in.
Mika, Mika, Mika...I really expected more from you. We're contemporaries. I watched you tackle tough topics as a reporter, saw you anchor the weekend national news. Did you really write not one but two posts all but arguing that children are essential to fulfillment?

"Women face enough pressures and challenges in a workplace that is still depressingly biased against a female's success. Add to that, the fact that the very thing many women I know find most rewarding (having kids) is now frowned upon."

Having kids is now frowned upon? Mika, you must be seriously distracted to have missed out of the whole mommy movement. Just check out Mom's Rising or Mom 2.0 Summit or the Motherhood Project or Maria Shriver's latest report, A Woman's Nation Changes Everything. As Melanie Notkin points out in her editor's note on Savvy Auntie the report weirdly overlooked the fact that not all women are mothers:

"The study, meant to change the way government policy and businesses modernize with the new standing of women in the economy - a change I completely support - interchanges the word "woman" with "mother" so often it's as if all women are mothers."

... << MORE >>

 
It's been a very long time since I sat in the Frieze Building on the University of Michigan campus taking notes in a women's studies course. While I registered mainly for administrative reasons (the session fulfilled a requirement for my English Literature major), the class had the added benefit of being thought-provoking. One of the assigned books, Strong-Minded Women, remains on my bookshelf today.

I trust my prof would have been pleased to see an essay I wrote today — prompted by an obituary on sociologist and feminist scholar, Alice S. Rossi (pictured here) — made the cut as an "editor's pick" on Open Salon. You can read the piece, "45 Years After Rossi, Mommies Propagate Prejudice," here. While I don't take any formal classes today, I remain a student of sorts, observing how women's attitudes and behaviors impact society.

Amadeus...

That's a clue for my answer to some complex questions that came this weekend from Silent Sorority readers. The ideas and emotions contained in their questions were remarkably familiar — so much so they could have come straight out of my own head a few years ago. I guess, by now, I shouldn't be startled by the depth of the shared infertility experience. I'm sure they'll evoke some deja vu for you, too. The questions pose the ultimate test for infertiles who don't succeed with treatment — overcoming anger and finding peace.

First came this email:

"I've been having a rough go of it lately and have been pretty messed up.It's kind of the kick off of the fun family/kid centric holiday season and I know it's always really hard for me. Something you wrote about in your book and talk about at times is an issue that I'm dealing with. How did you move beyond the resentment of people who do have children? I absolutely hate feeling this way. I'm even starting to resent my dr. and therapist, not good. I just see everyone with kids as having something I can't, won't. On some level, I understand it is the way it is supposed to be. On the other hand, I just want to isolate myself from all those with kids. So frustrating,and impossible too! Does it just fade away?"

... << MORE >>

You know you are pretty far along the acceptance curve when you can laugh about things that once made you want to: a) scream b) cry c) commit Hari-Kiri or d) all of the above.  I offer as evidence the Open Salon piece I wrote about the fertility industry, which led to the following online exchange with that oh so rare creature — a man who openly discusses infertility. Here's how it went:

Him: As far as I could tell, the main function of a fertility clinic is to transfer money from infertile couples to the fertility clinic. They are remarkably effective at that. A fairly rare side effect of the money transfer is that every once in a while a baby is born.

For my wife and me it got to be kind of a joke. We couldn't walk into the clinic without dropping at least $120 on something. We never knew what it would be, but we knew that our wallets would be at least $120 lighter when we left.  And those were the cheap days. Other days we'd drop a grand, two grand, three grand, for the procedures and medications that can only be described as cruel and unusual punishment. And at the end? Nothing, except an empty bank account, and the offer that we could "try again." Thanks, but no thanks.

Me:  Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. Your comment gave me a laugh — my husband and I also felt like human ATM machines. It's refreshing and reassuring to know we're not the only ones who see the fertility industry as dangerously close to predatory

Him:  And they get you coming and going. We ended up with a few embryos in a petri dish. These, of course, have to be frozen.  The first year the freezer cost was $200. The following year it was $300. Then $400. Then $500. I felt like asking if the embryos were in a freezer or living in an apartment. I half expected to get a bill for cable TV for the embryos.  But I have to give credit where credit is due. The "sperm sample" room did have the best collection of Penthouse magazines that I've seen in recent years. I'm just not sure that viewing it was worth $12,000.

Me: LOL! My husband and I are convinced our embryos took at least one trip to Hawaii (and kept the miles!)

Him: My guess is that the embryos sneak out of the freezer at night and check out the Penthouse magazines. Or perhaps they have their own subscriptions. They certainly should have enough spending money to do so.  Some day we're going to hear that Bill Gates has been knocked off his perch of "richest person in the world" by an infertility doc. With a typical infertility practice it shouldn't be too difficult to rack up a few billion.

And there you have it. The search engines are going to go wild with this post. I can't wait to see what shows up in my traffic feed. Feel free to share your black humor.

p.s. When you're done here, drop by my Silent Sorority website — it's new and improved! (BTW: you can find more of the same absurdities inside the book.) Become a fan, too. It won't hurt, really...

It's been quite a while since I felt compelled to include a blog post in the "Memo to the Fertile Community" category, but what comes next fit like a glove and then some. BTW: credit for the blog post title goes to my guy.

There I was last week innocently starting my Sunday morning, feeling all it's Sunday! I was about to pour a large mug of coffee and dive into The New York Times when ... BAM.  You can read what happened next at Open Salon along with some interesting comments.

I also encourage you to check out Loribeth's post, The Dark Side of Positive Thinking, which highlights Barbara Ehrenreich's new book: Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America. I, too, saw Barbara interviewed by Jon Stewart and loved her characterization of the "empathy deficit" that exists in today's society. Take it from one who knows, the right response when someone is going through a particularly rough patch is to acknowledge it, not try to minimize it. Minimizing bad experiences with a thinly-veiled redirect or worse, a partronizing pep talk about staying positive, only serves to make the person feeling bad feel worse.

Now go on and have whatever kind of day you need...

Infertile folk will never quite measure up on the yardstick of life used by "fertile" folk — what with such things as pregnancies, baby firsts, kid kibbitzing, and parental back slaps among the many markings. So what's an infertile to do? Get a new measurement system!

That's only one of the "ah has" I've learned in reconciling infertility. It's also just one of the many discussion topics you'll hear in the radio segment: "Deciding to Live Involuntarily Childfree" (Note to the childfree by choice tribe: I know you get downright hot under the collar when infertiles co-opt your childfree label, but I didn't name the segment).

Get comfy. Grab a cup of coffee or better yet, a glass of wine — chances are pretty good if you're reading my blog you won't be supervising homework tonight!  Addressed in the hour-long segment: When should you stop infertility treatment.  At what point do you decide to simply stop trying for the miracle? What are the life long ramifications with making the decision to live childfree?

Joining me on the show, hosted by Dawn Davenport of Creating a Family.org, was Stephanie Baffone, a therapist who made the decision to live child free after years in infertility treatment and has counseled with many others facing this decision.

Constance? Earnest? Stalwart? Fred?

I haven’t named my elephant yet, but I really should since it’s been with me in whatever room I seem to occupy for quite some time now. Yes,infertility comes with its very own elephant – as if we need things to be any more crowded in the places we occupy, or worse yet, in doctor office waiting rooms (Can you just picture it? A room full of couples and their elephants??!)

Editor's Note: You can read more of my latest Barren Not Beaten column at Fertility Authority.

*Who have never stepped foot in a doctor's office to discuss why they are having trouble conceiving

It's not easy to explain why the question, "do you have children?," can cut like a knife.  With that in mind, I wrote a guest column,  Infertility: Amid the Silent Sorority. It first ran on a site called CurrentMom.  Perhaps this perspective can provide a starting point ...