Coming2Terms

Healing Salon: Some Unfinished Business

2012-03-10T21:44:42Z

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 Mel's Healing Salon a place to sit, ponder and participate.

For those new to this blog, here's some background on it: The posts on Coming2Terms, for quite some time, provided cover with a pseudonym. The veiled aspect allowed me, many moons ago, the freedom for cathartic writing about my futile 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 still more grief...

Compounding the difficulty ... all I'd ever heard about was TTC + treatments = successful pregnancy. Mel's blogroll and the community it fostered offered a place to let my hair down, but even then it was hard not to feel like an outcast. At times it felt as though the blogroll was a living room with three doors. Door #1: in treatment or recovering from loss; 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.

In the end, 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. I also couldn't hide (in real life or online) from, at times, pain-inducing pregnancy announcements or joys of motherhood stories.

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 after a dustup that involved 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? Exhale...Because 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.

My initial reaction had been, Seriously...? But the more I read the more I found the whole "can you believe?..." "that is so not what I meant..." "how dare you?" spirited nature of the commentary sort of refreshing. I also found it curious that the alienation was so universal. Silly me. All along I thought it was just those of us behind door #3 feeling left out.

I would have liked it even more if the bloggers had used their real names as I think that would have made it even more revealing, 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. I, for one, have always admired the restraint shown by MABIs and their first cousins, the MSTICs.

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.

There's More Than One Happy Ending

2011-10-18T06:37:48Z

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.

A Fresh Start

2010-01-16T17:31:00Z

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.

New Decade, New Beginnings (updated)

2010-01-05T01:00:00Z

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!

Yes, Virginia, There Are Lovely "'Fertiles" Out There

2009-12-19T14:56:00Z

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 talk 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 our "fertile" friends, family and acquaintances don't "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, The Swell Season: Haunted by Reminders of Infertility, that provided examples of the typical casual dismissals and a few downright, huhs? in the comments section:

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 want to highlight and salute 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. Here's an excerpt of the email they sent me this week:

"We wanted to send you an email to let you know how profound your book was. Our sister-in-law has been battling infertility for years. It seems like the 2 of you have almost gone through the exact same experience entirely. She and her husband have ultimately chosen the same path to live life day by day and entirely in the moment. Over the years, it has been really difficult to watch and understand their perspective. They have been there for us as we started our family and are the most wonderful Aunt and Uncle to our children. In the spirit of this holiday season, and as a gift to them,we are sending Silent Sorority out to 10 of their closest friends and family members. None of us could even fathom going through what they (and you) have gone through and we want to celebrate how far they have come and spread awareness and perspective on infertility. We have racked our brains to figure out something proactive that we can be doing for them and realized that if we open other people's eyes and hearts and change people's views one person at a time we can begin to make this "sorority" a little less silent.

"Thank you for opening our eyes and changing our perspective. Not a day goes by that we do not think of the impact this book has had in our lives, and hopefully our sister-in-law and brother see the change in us as well. Your book has been a blessing in all of our lives."

J&J: You are the sort of ambassadors our society needs more of ... so, on behalf of the infertility community I'd like to express our gratitude. Thank YOU for taking the time to try to understand the infertility experience and for being such great friends.

Our Next Guest: An Infertile Woman

2009-12-10T15:01:00Z

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?

The Game of Life

2009-11-29T20:13:00Z

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.

When Infertility and the Holidays Collide

2009-11-24T15:10:00Z

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.

Moms: We Hear You Loud and Clear

2009-11-17T14:33:00Z

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."

Bella DePaulo, a single woman with no children, takes the point further in a piece in Psychology Today:

"It is the year 2009. It is past time to accord single women and women who do not have children a place of recognition and respect in our society, our universities, our policies, our politics, our workplaces, our marketplaces, our media..."

Lori Bradley at BellaOnline shares another perspective after being called out a social event by a mother for not having children in her post "Living Childfree and Community Connected:"

"Do I know less about being human and living fully in our mysterious universe because I don’t have kids? No! I have less experience in some areas but more in others!"

Heck, even the FTC is looking into how moms are using their influence and growing share of voice. As the Los Angeles Times' story points out mommy bloggers are wooed hard and often by companies seeking their endorsement.

Mixing it up further, a woman's studies professor noted in a recent email exchange, "Could be the mommy bloggers (and all the tabloid stories) are protesting a bit much on purpose to convince women that babies are the way to go. Not just to insist that everyone has to do the same thing, or the thing they do -- but because there's anxiety about women not doing that same thing - and not seeing why they should."

Some women choose not to have children and other's simply cannot due to a host of reasons, which I've talked about at length on this blog.

I'd like to raise a bigger question (which I included in my comment to Mika's post). To all the moms espousing motherhood as the most valuable, rewarding position: What if your children are unable to have children? Are you setting them up for a sense failure if they can't or don't achieve parenthood?

Rather than reinforce a narrow point of view, why not add equal weight to other aspects of how one can derive a fulfilling life? Echoing Bella's point, "how about transforming the world to work better for ALL of us? More than 38 million Americans live in non-family households."

45 Years After Rossi, Mommies Propagate Prejudice

2009-11-09T02:55:00Z

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.

The Ultimate Test

2009-11-02T04:58:00Z

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?"

This query was followed soon after by this one:

"I attended my first Resolve support group meeting for life after IVF(childfree) and just finished your book. My hardest struggle has been my Faith. I was raised in the ole time religion (southern baptist environment) then into Pentacostal all before the age 10... but since going through this ordeal, I find myself asking if there really is a God because all the things I was taught, like if you do this, righteous, the Lord will bless you...blah blah blah. If you can speak a little on this I would appreciate it. Am I the only person who is so angry with God, that I lost faith? Have any of the other infertile women ever shared anything similar with you?"

I mulled over how to respond. This wouldn't be easy, especially since I'm far from an expert on the whole God thing. I could pull out the usual cliches (~~cue the "we each have our cross to bear" statement~~), but these burning questions require more than existential rationalizing (~~you're free to decide how you want to feel~~), and thinking happy thoughts (~~I sure am glad that little monster who won't stop crying doesn't live with me!~~).

No I needed something more. I searched for a metaphor, another way to make the point that anger and resentment are not simply the domain of infertile women. (We get a bad enough rap as it is -- no need to add more fuel to the fire.) What other character could help by association? And that's when it hit me. Salieri from the movie Amadeus. The movie is loosely based on the lives of the composers Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Antonio Salieri.

I saw the film again not long ago and found Salieri a kindred spirit of sorts. He believes Mozart's music is divine. He wishes he was himself as good a musician as Mozart so that he can praise the Lord through composing. But he can't understand why God favored Mozart, an ingrate who takes his talent for granted, to be his instrument. As it was described on a movie website, "Salieri's envy has made him an enemy of God whose greatness was evident in Mozart."

Like old Salieri there was a time my anger at God, the universe, the fertile world, was seriously corrosive. It was eating me up inside. After intense amounts of reflection I finally decided that I didn't want to live my life with such resentment coloring my life. Now what to do about it. It was not the least bit easy mind you, but I took myself out of the equation and studied the situation like a dispassionate observer. I realized that most fertile folk would be aghast to learn how badly they had hurt me with their careless comments and gestures. It allowed me to see their ignorance and insensitivity in a new light. I decided to imagine what it would be like to forgive them.

Much like in the opening scene -- only I managed to avoid the mental institution -- I got into a new groove generously forgiving all who crossed my path. I was downright benevolent -- quietly absolving everyone of their sins and transgressions -- sometimes even while it was happening. The thought bubbles over my head bordered on epic, "You know not what you do ..."

I'm not saying people don't continue to test my mettle in a big, big way, but the ensuing high of forgiveness became a reward in itself. Do I miss the adrenalin rush that comes with wanting to punch someone's lights out? Sure. It's not always easy being the bigger person (well, it is if you're six feet tall like I am), but when it comes to character, I aspire to be big not small.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has found a path to peace in the post-apocalyptic infertile disaster zone. Others care to share?

Fertility Clinic Funnies

2009-10-23T23:35:00Z

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...

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Womb Scorned

2009-10-19T14:38:00Z

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...

Tough Talk: Living Without Children After Infertility

2009-10-07T19:30:00Z

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.

How Big Is the Elephant in Your Room?

2009-10-02T14:00:00Z

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.

A Conversation Starter for Moms and Dads*

2009-09-05T16:52:00Z

*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 ...

Barren Doesn't Mean Empty

2009-07-03T18:37:00Z

Come on in. We've got room in front. Okay, everyone settled? Can you hear me in back? Good. Now, I've got a few confessions to make.

As those of you who have been with me from the beginning well know I started this blog feeling broken, empty, isolated -- in a word: LOST. I'd been living with infertility for more than a decade and, at 43, found myself confronted with the unthinkable. Infertility treatment of all sorts had proven futile. Time was running out on a spontaneous, miraculous pregnancy and that stark realization flattened me. I was angry, bitter, despairing, prickly. I felt my body had betrayed me. I felt massively misunderstood and, not surprisingly, I didn't like the world very much. A spin through my earliest posts reveal that I channeled my blackest ire at women who conceived easily.

But what caught me off guard completely in the emotional department were the days when I felt positively hateful toward once infertile women who succeeded where I had not. At times their comments felt beyond disingenuous. Their glowing posts about pregnancy after infertility were a stake in my fragile heart. "Look at me, I'm so very pregnant now! Here's my belly (which you'll never have....) to prove it!"

Yes, I confess that I never came right out and said it then, but those posts cut deeper in some ways than hearing about pregnancies from women who had never visited a reproductive endocrinologist. In my angry world, infertile women who posted baby pictures and raved about their newborns were the equivalent of women who unabashedly brought their children into fertility clinics. Have you no decency, no compassion? I screamed more than once at my computer screen.

What riled me up the worst? When women in treatment who did go on to conceive and deliver -- between posting about the joys of motherhood and the cutest thing their child just did -- breezily exclaimed that they could have happily built a live without children if the treatments hadn't worked. "Oh, yes, I know I could have been happy. I would not have looked back .... now here's Junior at 3 mos!"

It's damned easy to be magnanimous, I grumbled, when you've gotten that which someone else can't achieve. When you're grieving the last thing you want to hear is the equivalent of, "Oh, it's not that bad. I know I'd be fine in your shoes. Tra la."

Just as I could never begin to pretend that I know what it's truly like to feel a baby stir or kick in my womb, women who have never ACTUALLY felt the devastation of knowing that conception and pregnancy will never occur won't ever truly know what it means to accept that the delivery room is permanently off limits. The finality is overwhelming. Some experiences you have to actually live to know.

Furthermore, there is no joy, no celebration in stopping fertility treatment (well, other than seeing your bank account stop hemorrhaging and your belly and thighs recover from the bruising). It's not a choice in an empowering sense. When financial and emotional resources are rapidly depleting and you're not getting any younger, you are faced with the unpleasant task of deciding when it's time to throw in the towel and step away from the clinic. It is one in a series of difficult decisions that haunt you. That's because stopping treatment doesn't eradicate the tiny hope that nature might, just might, pull out a Hail Mary pass.

Until I formally hit menopause I expect to hear a small voice continue to wonder about whether a spontaneous pregnancy might possibly make the record books. And that rather torturous wondering in and of itself is something one has to come to terms with, each in our own way and in our own time. There is no neat formula. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.

It looks more like this image I created (see left). So, in sorting out all of the complicated emotions that accompanied the realization that life wasn't going according to plan, I learned to appreciate that I'm stronger than I ever thought I was. The barrage of pregnancies in IF land and the unexpected behaviors I witnessed all around the infertility blogosphere provided a boot camp of sorts. The "days until delivery" widgets and discussions about what color to paint the nursery toughened me up along the way and prepared me to do battle with the real world.

In time, I stopped being angry and bitter in an unproductive sense. Rather than let those emotions control me, I got the upper hand. I mastered and channeled them into something productive -- building a comfortable life as a family of two and treasuring my husband (whose canonization for sainthood is all but a sure thing). I also came to appreciate and accept that loss can be transformational if we allow it to be so. Like a metal that's been forged in fire, I have been strengthened by what has been, at times, an unbearable heat.

I realize how far I've come when I see search terms like "barren and empty" point women to Coming2Terms.

I am living evidence for any visitor coming to this blog for the first time who does feel barren and empty today, that barren doesn't mean empty forever. Like a desert that carries its own beauty and life within, there is a remarkable beauty and a peacefulness that reveals itself in time.
As I make clear in my book, Silent Sorority: A (Barren) Woman Gets Busy, Angry, Lost and Found, love can be strengthened by loss. My story will continue to unfold. For those just undertaking the journey of coming to terms, I encourage you to be gentle with yourself. Feel free to comment here on this blog as many new readers arrive every day and the perspectives from other women who are coming to terms can be remarkably healing. Take it from me, I know.

p.s. Last confession: I haven't been completely silent these past six weeks. Those of you who follow me on Facebook or Twitter know I've been writing for other sites during my Coming2Terms sabbatical. That's right. I've been testing the waters and getting comfortable writing for a wider audience. For instance:

There's my ongoing work to raise awareness about my book Silent Sorority (new reviews arriving regularly).
There are my offbeat pieces like, "How Did I Get So Chesty," which can be found on MORE magazine's website.
My commentary on living without children in an era of helicopter parents, "No Kids? Heap the Scorn, We're Ready" lives on Open Salon.
My column on Fertility Authority covers a range of topics like my review of the movie Up.

Growing Pains

2009-05-27T14:50:00Z

Uh, oh. I detect some growing pains. The signs are all there. You know, when you wake up and get the sense of being torn in different directions? It's not simply a question of bagel or Cheerios, but am I feeling settled? Unsettled?

Seems I'm a goofy teenager all over again only with better clothes and different skin care issues. Sure, we're always undergoing some form of growing pains, whether it's adjusting to a new routine, a disappointment or a success for that matter, but some transitions are bigger than others and, for me, they always seem gigantic when I'm on the cusp of a birthday.

(Note to those visiting here for the first time: Have no fear. You're not too late. The highlights from the first stage of my life and my experience overcoming the worst of infertility can be found in my book, Silent Sorority. You can get all caught up with me and even find some of the best of my Coming2Terms blog in Silent Sorority, available on Amazon.com. If you like it, please leave a review on Amazon -- you'll be helping other women find fellowship. Meanwhile, have a look around the previous posts and comments -- there is still lots of active sharing going on so please make yourself at home and take part in the conversation.)

Now, I'm not sure what's awaiting me in the next chapter of life, but I'm ready to make the leap nonetheless.

I've taken a sabbatical from this blog before, and while I seriously doubt that I can stop writing altogether, I do know that I need a change. I'm going out of town with my guy on a trip that will culminate in a birthday celebration on June 12. During that time I'll mull over whether it's time I preserve this blog in its current form -- a journey through the unpredictable sometimes oppressive, sometimes absurd, sometimes liberating experiences that come in the wake of unsuccessful infertility treatments -- or perhaps start another blog. Of course, I'd need a new name, a new look, a new charter. To be continued...

Ta-ta for now my dear Internets.

Going Up!

2009-05-19T02:16:00Z

An an infertile (that's right, all you "as a moms," ... we infertiles can invoke superiority, too!), I'm happy to report that there's finally a movie coming to theater near you that contains a story line that portrays infertiles as endearing, not selfish ... sweet, not reviled or pitied.

Time magazine says the movie, Up, will prove to be one of the most satisfying movie experiences of the year. Hallelujah! It's about freakin' time. Hollywood has some serious making up to do for consistently negative story lines about my people. Time's Richard Corliss writes:

"Spanning two continents and seven decades, Up begins in a 1930s movie theater. A newsreel tells us that famous explorer Charles Muntz (voiced by Christopher Plummer) is just back from South America's remote Paradise Falls with the bones of a prehistoric bird. Denounced as a fraud by archaeologists, Muntz vows to retrieve a member of the species and bring it back alive. In the audience, wearing aviator goggles atop his thick-rimmed specs, is young Carl Fredricksen, who is enthralled by Muntz's motto, 'There's adventure out there!'

"On the way home, Carl finds a kindred spirit: a girl named Ellie, as vivacious as he is stolid, who harbors the same dream of visiting Paradise Falls. It's love at first sight, and in a tender montage, Up shows us their life together: the wedding, the fixing up of their home, the quiet walks, their respective jobs at the local zoo (she tending the animals, he selling balloons), their eager preparations for a child they later learn they can't have, their need to defer the big trip to pay for home improvements, then her slowing pace and death. This series of vignettes is played without dialogue and underscored by Michael Giacchino's wistful waltz. It's the sweetest, saddest 4 1⁄2 minutes you'll ever see on film."

Of course, I haven't seen the movie yet as it hasn't opened, but I know the story line well. We infertile couples today live a parallel, updated version not in animated form. We experience love at first sight and fix up our homes, take quiet walks, work at respective jobs, and ... make eager preparations for a child we learn we can't have ...

It's sad and it's sweet, and yes, like Ellie and Carl we are devoted to each other.

Fortunately, for me and my guy, we aren't in our 70s yet. We're now at the point in our lives when we treasure our time together. We remain young in heart and mind, still madly in love. We're not delaying our visit to our comparable Paradise Falls. Travel and exploring is something we do as often as we can. This past weekend we dropped the top on our convertible and headed down Hwy 1. We cavorted on the beach in Carmel watching the waves from the Pacific Ocean crash on the beach. We visited a lovely little winery in Carmel Valley Village and, later in the evening, curled up entwined in each other's arms to watch one of our favorite series, The Tudors, before giggling like a couple of overtired kids in bed.

Next weekend, we're kicking off summer with a hike in the Sierra Nevada mountains and a barbecue next to Lake Tahoe...and that's just the beginning of a long series of adventures we're planning together.

Thank you in advance, Pixar. I think I'm gonna like looking Up for a change.

Envy and Equanimity

2009-05-13T14:06:00Z

Some remarkable milestones to report:

1) I was pea green with envy yesterday, but not for the usual reason (that's right folks, pregnancy was not involved!) ....

2) A new work acquaintance asked me if I had children and my first instinct was not to throw something at him.

I think both episodes show signs of progress, yes? Okay, the details.

I've been working a few days a week at a really interesting startup where the only downside is that it requires 60-90 minutes of drive time each way. Since I abhor long, slow commutes I try to distract myself with NPR stories. Yesterday's feature had me wrestling with the ugly green monster.

Why? The guest was a new author talking about her book chronicling her experience, at 37, to freeze her eggs. Ah, you say, you envy her the access to a new, promising reproductive technology? No actually, I envied her the slot she scored on NPR's Talk of the Nation discussing her new book.

I laughed at the realization that I'd graduated from pregnancy envy to book envy. In each case I have had to work harder to get fewer results. You've got to admit the parallels are ironic. First, I couldn't get pregnant while doing everything required and then some while everyone around me was getting knocked up right and left. And, now, at a time when I finally delivered my book about the hidden tolls of living in an era of designer babies and clinics marketing fertility for all, I'm reminded again that mainstream media has a fascination with making babies, but they're less interested in what happens when all the whiz bang technology doesn't deliver on its promise.

Ah well, I'm getting very comfortable being the Rodney Dangerfield of reproductive technology outcomes (and books about them).

Now, for item numero dos. For years I avoided any and all social and work situations that might land me in the middle of small talk with new people. I was expert at the handshake and run. It was my way of self protection and a sure fire means of avoiding the evitable question about whether I had children. Yesterday I not only got the question, I answered it without my usual indignation at getting the query; it was completely in context (we were discussing dosing of medications from a pediatrician's point of view). I answered it without feeling any malice whatsoever toward the man and continued with the conversation about the delicate nature of new drug therapies.

Now, if only I could get NPR to ask me about my experience not getting pregnant...