Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘general infertility’ Category

You’d think this would go away. This ridiculous infertile envy of mine. I’m pregnant for crying out loud. I know lots of people look at my blog, see that I’m pregnant and click away immediately, sorry that they accidentally stumbled on yet another pregnancy blog. I’m one of THEM. One of the traitors. No longer one of the team. But once a stirrup queen, always a stirrup queen, I say. Pregnancy has made me no less infertile. Pregnancy has made me no less capable of just deciding that I want to get pregnant and making it happen. Pregnancy has not created in me the freedom to make my own reproductive choices without the interference of a team of doctors.

Oh, but what’s that, you say? Triplets? Why, oh why would I ever need to contemplate more children anyway? I’ll tell you why! Because if I were fertile, I’d be ABLE to contemplate that without anyone asking me such a ridiculous question, that’s why. Because never in my life did it occur to me that I would have one pregnancy and be done. Because it never occured to me that my only pregnancy experience would be a high-risk, bed-ridden, terbutaline-laden experience.

And where does the envy come in? I have a friend who got married in early February. On my husband’s birthday, in fact. I was in the middle of a doomed IUI cycle, or so I thought. I had, in fact, that morning been to a monitoring appointment in which a doctor had given me yet another quizzical look and basically said, “Well, at least we know this is the last cycle, and we’re moving on to IVF next cycle.” My friend is a lovely woman, and she married a lovely gentleman, another friend of ours, and we couldn’t be happier for them. But I was near tears all day. I’m not normally like that during a cycle. I normally take the ups and downs of a treatment cycle fairly well, but that cycle just kept going SO BADLY and I was so very tired. And it was February, which meant that the bride, beautiful and radiant, had plenty of time left in the year to get pregnant and have a baby before year’s end.

And guess what? She’s due to have her first baby in December. Which means she got pregnant a month after I did. (I had my IUI mid-February that month to get pregnant with the triplets). And I wouldn’t wish infertiity on her. I really wouldn’t. Not for one, single, solitary second. I wouldn’t wish it on ANYONE, least of all her. But… but… couldn’t she at least be due in January? Couldn’t I have just been wrong once?

I am surrounded, and I mean SURROUNDED by pregnant women in my community. It’s one of the pitfalls of being an infertile woman living in an Orthodox Jewish Community. One woman is due around the same time that the triplets should be making their debut with her first from her second IVF cycle and I couldn’t be happier for her. The others, as far as I know had no struggles (they are all relatively newly-weds, or they are on their second, third, or fourth children in pretty short time spans). Between early July and the beginning of October, there are 10 babies (counting each of the triplets as one baby) expected (and now, if you expand to December, 11 counting this friend I described above) in a one mile radius. Four were born in the last 10 days. Three of us are expecting arrivals in late September (including me). You would THINK that with me being one of the pregnant ones for once, I wouldn’t be jealous. But I am. I really am. And worse, there’s a piece of me that just HATES that I’m not special, and a piece of me that LOVES that the triplets set me apart from all the other deliveries coming, because at least in that sense, my babies still ARE the special ones. Because I really AM that petty and childish.

You’d think I could just be genuinely happy for everyone else’s good news. And usually I am. I truly do not believe there is a limited amount of fertility in this world. I don’t believe that another woman’s pregnancy takes away from my “chances” of a pregnancy. And yet, when I learned of my friend’s pregnancy, I felt hollow and empty and mean. I wanted to leave the room and cry if I could, but I knew I couldn’t. And no one, NO ONE, understands why it would matter to me. I mean, I hit the jackpot, right? Triplets! I never have to worry about having kids again, right? Except that I hate that people just assume it’s okay to say that. “Well, at least you’re done and you never have to do this again.” What a horrible thing to say. What if I WANT this again? How exactly is having a catheter in my leg pumping medicine into me 24/7 a fun pregnancy experience? Why is it okay to assume that I’m just loving this “perfect” pregnancy from my bed or recliner from which I am allowed to emerge for a meal or for the bathroom or for a doctor’s appointment, but for nothing else?

But it’s not fair of me to blame fertile myrtles either. My friend never did anything to me. She isn’t even the one that told me she was pregnant (I’m closer with her sister who told me because I talk to her far more often). She’s never said “nanny nanny boo boo. it took you five years and tens of thousands of dollars of treatment, but I only took a month, so pbbbbt!” I’m sure it’s never occurred to her. She’s quiet and unassumming and beautiful and so unbelievably perfect. I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at myself for not being mature enough to just be happy for her. After all, I have everything that I wanted. I have an amazing husband. I have the pregnancy I begged and cried and prayed for (even though technically I prayed for a SINGLETON pregnancy). I have a beautiful amazing foster son. I have a home I love and a supportive community. I couldn’t ask for more.

And yet, I still envy her, and I hate myself for that.

Read Full Post »

You'd think this would go away. This ridiculous infertile envy of mine. I'm pregnant for crying out loud. I know lots of people look at my blog, see that I'm pregnant and click away immediately, sorry that they accidentally stumbled on yet another pregnancy blog. I'm one of THEM. One of the traitors. No longer one of the team. But once a stirrup queen, always a stirrup queen, I say. Pregnancy has made me no less infertile. Pregnancy has made me no less capable of just deciding that I want to get pregnant and making it happen. Pregnancy has not created in me the freedom to make my own reproductive choices without the interference of a team of doctors.

Oh, but what's that, you say? Triplets? Why, oh why would I ever need to contemplate more children anyway? I'll tell you why! Because if I were fertile, I'd be ABLE to contemplate that without anyone asking me such a ridiculous question, that's why. Because never in my life did it occur to me that I would have one pregnancy and be done. Because it never occured to me that my only pregnancy experience would be a high-risk, bed-ridden, terbutaline-laden experience.

And where does the envy come in? I have a friend who got married in early February. On my husband's birthday, in fact. I was in the middle of a doomed IUI cycle, or so I thought. I had, in fact, that morning been to a monitoring appointment in which a doctor had given me yet another quizzical look and basically said, "Well, at least we know this is the last cycle, and we're moving on to IVF next cycle." My friend is a lovely woman, and she married a lovely gentleman, another friend of ours, and we couldn't be happier for them. But I was near tears all day. I'm not normally like that during a cycle. I normally take the ups and downs of a treatment cycle fairly well, but that cycle just kept going SO BADLY and I was so very tired. And it was February, which meant that the bride, beautiful and radiant, had plenty of time left in the year to get pregnant and have a baby before year's end.

And guess what? She's due to have her first baby in December. Which means she got pregnant a month after I did. (I had my IUI mid-February that month to get pregnant with the triplets). And I wouldn't wish infertiity on her. I really wouldn't. Not for one, single, solitary second. I wouldn't wish it on ANYONE, least of all her. But… but… couldn't she at least be due in January? Couldn't I have just been wrong once?

I am surrounded, and I mean SURROUNDED by pregnant women in my community. It's one of the pitfalls of being an infertile woman living in an Orthodox Jewish Community. One woman is due around the same time that the triplets should be making their debut with her first from her second IVF cycle and I couldn't be happier for her. The others, as far as I know had no struggles (they are all relatively newly-weds, or they are on their second, third, or fourth children in pretty short time spans). Between early July and the beginning of October, there are 10 babies (counting each of the triplets as one baby) expected (and now, if you expand to December, 11 counting this friend I described above) in a one mile radius. Four were born in the last 10 days. Three of us are expecting arrivals in late September (including me). You would THINK that with me being one of the pregnant ones for once, I wouldn't be jealous. But I am. I really am. And worse, there's a piece of me that just HATES that I'm not special, and a piece of me that LOVES that the triplets set me apart from all the other deliveries coming, because at least in that sense, my babies still ARE the special ones. Because I really AM that petty and childish.

You'd think I could just be genuinely happy for everyone else's good news. And usually I am. I truly do not believe there is a limited amount of fertility in this world. I don't believe that another woman's pregnancy takes away from my "chances" of a pregnancy. And yet, when I learned of my friend's pregnancy, I felt hollow and empty and mean. I wanted to leave the room and cry if I could, but I knew I couldn't. And no one, NO ONE, understands why it would matter to me. I mean, I hit the jackpot, right? Triplets! I never have to worry about having kids again, right? Except that I hate that people just assume it's okay to say that. "Well, at least you're done and you never have to do this again." What a horrible thing to say. What if I WANT this again? How exactly is having a catheter in my leg pumping medicine into me 24/7 a fun pregnancy experience? Why is it okay to assume that I'm just loving this "perfect" pregnancy from my bed or recliner from which I am allowed to emerge for a meal or for the bathroom or for a doctor's appointment, but for nothing else?

But it's not fair of me to blame fertile myrtles either. My friend never did anything to me. She isn't even the one that told me she was pregnant (I'm closer with her sister who told me because I talk to her far more often). She's never said "nanny nanny boo boo. it took you five years and tens of thousands of dollars of treatment, but I only took a month, so pbbbbt!" I'm sure it's never occurred to her. She's quiet and unassumming and beautiful and so unbelievably perfect. I'm not angry at her. I'm angry at myself for not being mature enough to just be happy for her. After all, I have everything that I wanted. I have an amazing husband. I have the pregnancy I begged and cried and prayed for (even though technically I prayed for a SINGLETON pregnancy). I have a beautiful amazing foster son. I have a home I love and a supportive community. I couldn't ask for more.

And yet, I still envy her, and I hate myself for that.

Read Full Post »

So I recently pointed you guys to Mel’s Blog, and I’ll be doing so again now. The Third Tour of the Barren Bitches Book Brigade is coming to a close. This tour’s book is The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I had read this book prior to the announcement of Tour number 3, and gladly pulled it out for a second read to participate in this tour, because it is an excellent book. It is, at its essence, a love story, and a beautiful one at that. If you haven’t read the book, I’m afraid that this post MIGHT give some spoilers (though I haven’t constructed my answers yet, so maybe I’m wrong), but you should still read the book. It’s an excellent book with beautiful themes.

Its relevence to the world of infertile myrtles is that the main characters of the book struggle with their own unique form of infertility. Henry, who suffers from a genetic disorder called “chrono-impairment”, seems to pass this disorder on to his future children. Unfortunately, this means a problem with his wife, Clare, carrying the children to term, because at some point, the fetuses tend to time travel out of the womb, leading to miscarriage. Clare suffers several such miscarriages, but never wants to stop trying to find an answer to their infertility. Her determination is one which non-infertiles might call desperation, but which we infertiles fully relate to.

Mel, as always, did a superb job organizing the book tour, and has collected a broad range of questions from each of the participants. So if you are interested in reading other people’s responses, you’ll find that everyone probably answered different questions than I did, so you’ll get a broad range of perspectives. Visit Mel’s blog at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com for a full list of tour participants so that you can enjoy everyone’s take on this fantastic book. And so, without further ado, here are my responses to the questions I’ve chosen to answer:

If you were able to communicate with a past or future version of yourself, how much would you tell them? How much would you want to know? Discuss how well you think Clare and Henry struck this balance, giving examples of points and ways in which they conveyed or withheld information.

Henry often frustrated Clare by his unwillingness to divulge too much about their future selves, but he did so in her own best interests. Henry gave Clare clues into her future by telling a very young Clare that in their future they are married, and also by dictating to her a list of dates in which he will visit her childhood self, but the details of their future relationship are held back. Henry prefers that Clare get to experience their relationship “untainted”, refusing to tell her of the specific circumstances in which they meet in “real time” so that she can experience it without preconceptions. He withholds details of their future, both good and bad, preferring to allow her some sense of control over their future.

There are other times, however, when Henry can’t help but allow his knowledge of the future to affect his perceptions of “real time”. For example, when looking for a house together, he dismisses houses out of hand that have the wrong view from the back window, which in some ways denied Clare the true experience of house-hunting. (And he even admits that he could be wrong, since he didn’t know if the future house he’d seen was their first house together or a subsequent house). Henry also uses his time traveling ability to fund their “rock n’ roll lifestyle” by investing in stock he knows will do well and by purchasing a winning lottery ticket.

As for my own personal feelings on the matter, I believe that knowing too much about our futures could be detrimental and I’d like to think that I would have the same self-restraint that Henry had. (Though seriously, I doubt I’d have that much self restraint) If I could go back 5 years and talk to myself about the struggle of infertility, I don’t think I would give myself any specifics. But what I would tell myself is that I can endure far more than I believed then. I would tell myself that even when I think I can’t, I’ll find the strength to move forward. And I’d tell myself I really don’t have it as bad as many other strong women. But I wouldn’t tell myself I’d end up with 6 IUIs, a miscarriage, and a triplet pregnancy. I wouldn’t tell myself how that triplet pregnancy would turn out (though oh heavens, I sure would like to know that now, so I could stop struggling with what to do about this!). I wouldn’t tell myself how many injections I’d given myself (hundreds), or how many transvaginal ultrasounds I’ve had (close to 100, I figured out the other day… I’m not kidding!), or any of those details. I wouldn’t tell myself how long it will last, how many struggles I have to go through, only that I will make it through in the end. I think knowing ahead of time would have made it that much harder. I knew before I was married that I would have problems conceiving, because I knew I wasn’t ovulating. I knew that fertility would be a struggle, but had I known the details, I think I would have sunk to the depths of despair. I didn’t realize until after my miscarriage that I really can endure. That I really can make it through. And that I really will do anything I can to achieve my dream. I don’t think it would have done any good to tell my past self that I would struggle in that way for that length of time before coming to those specific realizations.

There were several ways in which Clare and Henry’s experience of infertility (and pregnancy after infertility) rang true – in their individual reactions, in their joint reaction as a couple, and in their interactions with the outside world. Choose one or two specific examples and relate them to your personal experience.

There is a passage in which Henry thinks to himself, Seeing Clare with a baby in her arms, the reality of our miscarriages grabs me and for a moment I feel nauseous… The feeling retreats and I am left with the actuality of what we’ve been doing: we have been losing children. Where are they, these lost children, wandering, hovering around confused? I originally read this passage long before I’d ever dreamt I would experience the pain of a miscarriage, but the passage still rang true for me. It captured the essence of the pain that I had experienced with each failed cycle. The pain that I felt every time I saw my husband holding a friend’s newborn cooing at the baby. The pain that I felt every time I wondered if I would ever have that. I had never lost a child in the sense of miscarriage at that point, but I felt, the moment I read that passage, that it was exactly what I’d been experiencing for years: the pain of losing children that had never had the opportunity to exist. The passage obviously holds deeper meaning for me now that I’ve experienced a miscarriage, but it’s still this sense of “yes! That’s exactly it! That’s exactly how I feel sometimes!” that I felt before I’d ever so much as gotten pregnant.

In another passage, Clare and Henry go for an ultrasound when Clare is 18 weeks pregnant with their future daughter. Niffeneger does a fabulous job of building up the tension that Henry is experiencing sitting in the waiting room with all the other expectant couples, and then they are called back to an examining room:
Clare and I hold hands. We watch the monitor, too. Slowly the image builds itself, bit by bit.
On the screen is a weather map of the world. Or a galaxy, a swirl of stars. Or a baby.
“Bien joue, une fille,” Dr. Montague says. “She is sucking her thumb. She is very pretty and very big.”
Clare and I exhale. On the screen a pretty galaxy is sucking her thumb. As we watch she takes her hand away from her mouth. Dr. Montague says, “She smiles.” And so do we.

This is not yet a passage that rings true for me. I haven’t found the moment when I can exhale. But I do hope that at some point, I find myself exhaling with relief, with a feeling that things will turn out okay, with a sense of calm, a sense of comfort. I yearn for the day I can exhale and believe that I’ve reached a point where I can stop worrying. I imagine that point is different for everyone. I suspect for me, it will be long after I’m holding my baby in my arms. And that’s okay. So long as I do, someday, get to exhale.

What do you think Clare meant by saying that adopting would be “just pretending?” Do you think she is justified in her view, even though she continues to try and conceive knowing that the babies time travel out of the womb and die?

Clare elaborates later in the passage on what she meant, by saying that she and Henry pretend all the time to be “normal people”. Pretending that it’s perfectly okay that Henry disappears all the time, that Henry almost gets killed, pretending she doesn’t care “when our babies die”. Clare sobs and pushes Henry away, not able to accept his comfort. I think Clare thinks that adopting would be pretending that she doesn’t feel the pain of infertility. I think in some ways it would only accentuate to her the myriad of ways in which she and Henry just aren’t like normal people. I am all for adopting, but I certainly understand Clare’s feelings. People who say, “why don’t you just adopt” don’t get it. Of course I would love a baby no matter who gave birth to it, but is it so much to ask that I get to experience the miracle of pregnancy like “normal” women? Is it fair to only say, “why don’t you just adopt?” to infertile women? Why don’t we say that to fertile women, too? We don’t say it to fertile women because fertile women don’t “need” to adopt to be “normal”, but somehow we infertiles do. No, I don’t think it’s pretending. I have a beautiful foster son who I could not love a single bit more if I’d given birth to him, but it doesn’t change that I want to experience pregnancy first-hand. So yes, I believe Clare is “justified” in her thinking, no matter what the outcome. Everyone is “justified” to their emotional responses. Clare desperately wants a baby, she desperately wants her own baby, and how many of us can say we’ve never felt that way? Unlike Clare, I don’t care about the specific genetic link to a child, but I DO care about experiencing pregnancy… all of it, not just the first 12 weeks … it’s something that I really regret not having experienced sooner and I do truly hope I get to experience it in the future. I think it would be terrible to judge someone negatively for their desire to have a child of their “own” versus adopting. Adoption is the perfect option for many people, but it isn’t the perfect option for everyone.

Don’t forget to hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/ . You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: Waiting for Daisy by Peggy Orenstein.

Read Full Post »

So I recently pointed you guys to Mel's Blog, and I'll be doing so again now. The Third Tour of the Barren Bitches Book Brigade is coming to a close. This tour's book is The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I had read this book prior to the announcement of Tour number 3, and gladly pulled it out for a second read to participate in this tour, because it is an excellent book. It is, at its essence, a love story, and a beautiful one at that. If you haven't read the book, I'm afraid that this post MIGHT give some spoilers (though I haven't constructed my answers yet, so maybe I'm wrong), but you should still read the book. It's an excellent book with beautiful themes.

Its relevence to the world of infertile myrtles is that the main characters of the book struggle with their own unique form of infertility. Henry, who suffers from a genetic disorder called "chrono-impairment", seems to pass this disorder on to his future children. Unfortunately, this means a problem with his wife, Clare, carrying the children to term, because at some point, the fetuses tend to time travel out of the womb, leading to miscarriage. Clare suffers several such miscarriages, but never wants to stop trying to find an answer to their infertility. Her determination is one which non-infertiles might call desperation, but which we infertiles fully relate to.

Mel, as always, did a superb job organizing the book tour, and has collected a broad range of questions from each of the participants. So if you are interested in reading other people's responses, you'll find that everyone probably answered different questions than I did, so you'll get a broad range of perspectives. Visit Mel's blog at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com for a full list of tour participants so that you can enjoy everyone's take on this fantastic book. And so, without further ado, here are my responses to the questions I've chosen to answer:

If you were able to communicate with a past or future version of yourself, how much would you tell them? How much would you want to know? Discuss how well you think Clare and Henry struck this balance, giving examples of points and ways in which they conveyed or withheld information.

Henry often frustrated Clare by his unwillingness to divulge too much about their future selves, but he did so in her own best interests. Henry gave Clare clues into her future by telling a very young Clare that in their future they are married, and also by dictating to her a list of dates in which he will visit her childhood self, but the details of their future relationship are held back. Henry prefers that Clare get to experience their relationship "untainted", refusing to tell her of the specific circumstances in which they meet in "real time" so that she can experience it without preconceptions. He withholds details of their future, both good and bad, preferring to allow her some sense of control over their future.

There are other times, however, when Henry can't help but allow his knowledge of the future to affect his perceptions of "real time". For example, when looking for a house together, he dismisses houses out of hand that have the wrong view from the back window, which in some ways denied Clare the true experience of house-hunting. (And he even admits that he could be wrong, since he didn't know if the future house he'd seen was their first house together or a subsequent house). Henry also uses his time traveling ability to fund their "rock n' roll lifestyle" by investing in stock he knows will do well and by purchasing a winning lottery ticket.

As for my own personal feelings on the matter, I believe that knowing too much about our futures could be detrimental and I'd like to think that I would have the same self-restraint that Henry had. (Though seriously, I doubt I'd have that much self restraint) If I could go back 5 years and talk to myself about the struggle of infertility, I don't think I would give myself any specifics. But what I would tell myself is that I can endure far more than I believed then. I would tell myself that even when I think I can't, I'll find the strength to move forward. And I'd tell myself I really don't have it as bad as many other strong women. But I wouldn't tell myself I'd end up with 6 IUIs, a miscarriage, and a triplet pregnancy. I wouldn't tell myself how that triplet pregnancy would turn out (though oh heavens, I sure would like to know that now, so I could stop struggling with what to do about this!). I wouldn't tell myself how many injections I'd given myself (hundreds), or how many transvaginal ultrasounds I've had (close to 100, I figured out the other day… I'm not kidding!), or any of those details. I wouldn't tell myself how long it will last, how many struggles I have to go through, only that I will make it through in the end. I think knowing ahead of time would have made it that much harder. I knew before I was married that I would have problems conceiving, because I knew I wasn't ovulating. I knew that fertility would be a struggle, but had I known the details, I think I would have sunk to the depths of despair. I didn't realize until after my miscarriage that I really can endure. That I really can make it through. And that I really will do anything I can to achieve my dream. I don't think it would have done any good to tell my past self that I would struggle in that way for that length of time before coming to those specific realizations.

There were several ways in which Clare and Henry's experience of infertility (and pregnancy after infertility) rang true – in their individual reactions, in their joint reaction as a couple, and in their interactions with the outside world. Choose one or two specific examples and relate them to your personal experience.

There is a passage in which Henry thinks to himself, Seeing Clare with a baby in her arms, the reality of our miscarriages grabs me and for a moment I feel nauseous… The feeling retreats and I am left with the actuality of what we've been doing: we have been losing children. Where are they, these lost children, wandering, hovering around confused? I originally read this passage long before I'd ever dreamt I would experience the pain of a miscarriage, but the passage still rang true for me. It captured the essence of the pain that I had experienced with each failed cycle. The pain that I felt every time I saw my husband holding a friend's newborn cooing at the baby. The pain that I felt every time I wondered if I would ever have that. I had never lost a child in the sense of miscarriage at that point, but I felt, the moment I read that passage, that it was exactly what I'd been experiencing for years: the pain of losing children that had never had the opportunity to exist. The passage obviously holds deeper meaning for me now that I've experienced a miscarriage, but it's still this sense of "yes! That's exactly it! That's exactly how I feel sometimes!" that I felt before I'd ever so much as gotten pregnant.

In another passage, Clare and Henry go for an ultrasound when Clare is 18 weeks pregnant with their future daughter. Niffeneger does a fabulous job of building up the tension that Henry is experiencing sitting in the waiting room with all the other expectant couples, and then they are called back to an examining room:
Clare and I hold hands. We watch the monitor, too. Slowly the image builds itself, bit by bit.
On the screen is a weather map of the world. Or a galaxy, a swirl of stars. Or a baby.
"Bien joue, une fille," Dr. Montague says. "She is sucking her thumb. She is very pretty and very big."
Clare and I exhale. On the screen a pretty galaxy is sucking her thumb. As we watch she takes her hand away from her mouth. Dr. Montague says, "She smiles." And so do we.

This is not yet a passage that rings true for me. I haven't found the moment when I can exhale. But I do hope that at some point, I find myself exhaling with relief, with a feeling that things will turn out okay, with a sense of calm, a sense of comfort. I yearn for the day I can exhale and believe that I've reached a point where I can stop worrying. I imagine that point is different for everyone. I suspect for me, it will be long after I'm holding my baby in my arms. And that's okay. So long as I do, someday, get to exhale.

What do you think Clare meant by saying that adopting would be "just pretending?" Do you think she is justified in her view, even though she continues to try and conceive knowing that the babies time travel out of the womb and die?

Clare elaborates later in the passage on what she meant, by saying that she and Henry pretend all the time to be "normal people". Pretending that it's perfectly okay that Henry disappears all the time, that Henry almost gets killed, pretending she doesn't care "when our babies die". Clare sobs and pushes Henry away, not able to accept his comfort. I think Clare thinks that adopting would be pretending that she doesn't feel the pain of infertility. I think in some ways it would only accentuate to her the myriad of ways in which she and Henry just aren't like normal people. I am all for adopting, but I certainly understand Clare's feelings. People who say, "why don't you just adopt" don't get it. Of course I would love a baby no matter who gave birth to it, but is it so much to ask that I get to experience the miracle of pregnancy like "normal" women? Is it fair to only say, "why don't you just adopt?" to infertile women? Why don't we say that to fertile women, too? We don't say it to fertile women because fertile women don't "need" to adopt to be "normal", but somehow we infertiles do. No, I don't think it's pretending. I have a beautiful foster son who I could not love a single bit more if I'd given birth to him, but it doesn't change that I want to experience pregnancy first-hand. So yes, I believe Clare is "justified" in her thinking, no matter what the outcome. Everyone is "justified" to their emotional responses. Clare desperately wants a baby, she desperately wants her own baby, and how many of us can say we've never felt that way? Unlike Clare, I don't care about the specific genetic link to a child, but I DO care about experiencing pregnancy… all of it, not just the first 12 weeks … it's something that I really regret not having experienced sooner and I do truly hope I get to experience it in the future. I think it would be terrible to judge someone negatively for their desire to have a child of their "own" versus adopting. Adoption is the perfect option for many people, but it isn't the perfect option for everyone.

Don't forget to hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/ . You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: Waiting for Daisy by Peggy Orenstein.

Read Full Post »

If you’ve never read Mel’s blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters, you’ve been missing out. Mel’s blog is far more than a blog. It is a wealth of information for infertility bloggers. There are links to virtually any kind of infertility blog out there. She has rounded up an amazing group of Peer Infertility Counselors in a variety of categories, so if you’re ever seeking information on, say, Depression and Infertility, Pregnancy Loss, Multifetal Pregnancy Reduction, IVF, IUI, or any of a myriad of other topics, you can find someone who has been there, done that, and who has agreed to share her experiences with you.

Mel also has started to develop what she calls an Emblopedia, an emotional blog encyclopedia which archives thoughts and feelings on a variety of categories and subcategories regarding infertility. I myself have been meaning to submit some entries to the Emblopedia, but haven’t had time yet. But Mel never seems to run out of time. She organizes the Emblopedia, she developed the Peer Infertility Counselor List and wait! There’s more! She organizes and hosts the Barren Bitches Book Brigade (which I’m excited to be participating in for the first time for Tour 3!). She has an unbelievable amount of information on her site. She has incredible insights into the world of infertility. She’s an incredible writer whose blog is as selfless as any I’ve ever seen. (my blog is entirely selfish… I write for myself and not as a public service… Mel gives more of herself in her blog than I’ve ever seen anyone do)

You’d think that would be enough. And seriously, how does Mel ever find time to sleep or spend time with her amazing twins? But she does! Seriously! And more than that! Mel has found yet another selfless way to champion the causes that we infertiles face every day: Mel is participating in WalkAmerica to support the March of Dimes. If you don’t know what great work March of Dimes supports, you should get thee to their site and educate yourself. For we all benefit from the incredible research and education that the March of Dimes supports. Mel says she is shy about posting about her participation in WalkAmerica, but she shouldn’t be, and I am certainly not going to be shy about promoting her efforts for her. Please go read Mel’s post about WalkAmerica and then consider sponsoring Mel in her efforts to support the March of Dimes. You know you want to.

It doesn’t matter how much you sponsor her for, $1, $10, $50, whatever you feel comfortable with, because every dollar counts. Mel appears to have set for herself a very modest goal of $500. I hope that we Infertile Myrtles can help her exceed that goal by at least double. Won’t you please support this most worthy cause? Won’t you please show Mel how much you appreciate her tireless and selfless efforts to make the infertility blogging community a cohesive and supportive unit? I did, and I feel better for it already.

And honestly, if you’ve been living under a rock and you’ve never read Mel’s blog… you’re missing out.

Read Full Post »

If you've never read Mel's blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters, you've been missing out. Mel's blog is far more than a blog. It is a wealth of information for infertility bloggers. There are links to virtually any kind of infertility blog out there. She has rounded up an amazing group of Peer Infertility Counselors in a variety of categories, so if you're ever seeking information on, say, Depression and Infertility, Pregnancy Loss, Multifetal Pregnancy Reduction, IVF, IUI, or any of a myriad of other topics, you can find someone who has been there, done that, and who has agreed to share her experiences with you.

Mel also has started to develop what she calls an Emblopedia, an emotional blog encyclopedia which archives thoughts and feelings on a variety of categories and subcategories regarding infertility. I myself have been meaning to submit some entries to the Emblopedia, but haven't had time yet. But Mel never seems to run out of time. She organizes the Emblopedia, she developed the Peer Infertility Counselor List and wait! There's more! She organizes and hosts the Barren Bitches Book Brigade (which I'm excited to be participating in for the first time for Tour 3!). She has an unbelievable amount of information on her site. She has incredible insights into the world of infertility. She's an incredible writer whose blog is as selfless as any I've ever seen. (my blog is entirely selfish… I write for myself and not as a public service… Mel gives more of herself in her blog than I've ever seen anyone do)

You'd think that would be enough. And seriously, how does Mel ever find time to sleep or spend time with her amazing twins? But she does! Seriously! And more than that! Mel has found yet another selfless way to champion the causes that we infertiles face every day: Mel is participating in WalkAmerica to support the March of Dimes. If you don't know what great work March of Dimes supports, you should get thee to their site and educate yourself. For we all benefit from the incredible research and education that the March of Dimes supports. Mel says she is shy about posting about her participation in WalkAmerica, but she shouldn't be, and I am certainly not going to be shy about promoting her efforts for her. Please go read Mel's post about WalkAmerica and then consider sponsoring Mel in her efforts to support the March of Dimes. You know you want to.

It doesn't matter how much you sponsor her for, $1, $10, $50, whatever you feel comfortable with, because every dollar counts. Mel appears to have set for herself a very modest goal of $500. I hope that we Infertile Myrtles can help her exceed that goal by at least double. Won't you please support this most worthy cause? Won't you please show Mel how much you appreciate her tireless and selfless efforts to make the infertility blogging community a cohesive and supportive unit? I did, and I feel better for it already.

And honestly, if you've been living under a rock and you've never read Mel's blog… you're missing out.

Read Full Post »

If you've never read Mel's blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters, you've been missing out. Mel's blog is far more than a blog. It is a wealth of information for infertility bloggers. There are links to virtually any kind of infertility blog out there. She has rounded up an amazing group of Peer Infertility Counselors in a variety of categories, so if you're ever seeking information on, say, Depression and Infertility, Pregnancy Loss, Multifetal Pregnancy Reduction, IVF, IUI, or any of a myriad of other topics, you can find someone who has been there, done that, and who has agreed to share her experiences with you.

Mel also has started to develop what she calls an Emblopedia, an emotional blog encyclopedia which archives thoughts and feelings on a variety of categories and subcategories regarding infertility. I myself have been meaning to submit some entries to the Emblopedia, but haven't had time yet. But Mel never seems to run out of time. She organizes the Emblopedia, she developed the Peer Infertility Counselor List and wait! There's more! She organizes and hosts the Barren Bitches Book Brigade (which I'm excited to be participating in for the first time for Tour 3!). She has an unbelievable amount of information on her site. She has incredible insights into the world of infertility. She's an incredible writer whose blog is as selfless as any I've ever seen. (my blog is entirely selfish… I write for myself and not as a public service… Mel gives more of herself in her blog than I've ever seen anyone do)

You'd think that would be enough. And seriously, how does Mel ever find time to sleep or spend time with her amazing twins? But she does! Seriously! And more than that! Mel has found yet another selfless way to champion the causes that we infertiles face every day: Mel is participating in WalkAmerica to support the March of Dimes. If you don't know what great work March of Dimes supports, you should get thee to their site and educate yourself. For we all benefit from the incredible research and education that the March of Dimes supports. Mel says she is shy about posting about her participation in WalkAmerica, but she shouldn't be, and I am certainly not going to be shy about promoting her efforts for her. Please go read Mel's post about WalkAmerica and then consider sponsoring Mel in her efforts to support the March of Dimes. You know you want to.

It doesn't matter how much you sponsor her for, $1, $10, $50, whatever you feel comfortable with, because every dollar counts. Mel appears to have set for herself a very modest goal of $500. I hope that we Infertile Myrtles can help her exceed that goal by at least double. Won't you please support this most worthy cause? Won't you please show Mel how much you appreciate her tireless and selfless efforts to make the infertility blogging community a cohesive and supportive unit? I did, and I feel better for it already.

And honestly, if you've been living under a rock and you've never read Mel's blog… you're missing out.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »