Posts from — November 2009

Show and Tell is wasted on elementary schoolers. Join several dozen bloggers weekly to show off an item, tell a story, and get the attention of the class. In other words, this is Show and Tell 2.0. Everyone is welcome to join, even if you have never posted before and just found out about Show and Tell for the first time today. So yank out a photo of the worst bridesmaid’s dress you ever wore and tell us the story; show off the homemade soup you cooked last night; or tell us all about the scarf you made for your first knitting project. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.

Let’s begin.

I know that last weekend I stated that I didn’t know if I would even use the new site at all (Stirrup Queens on the Road), and yet, I am seemingly addicted to it.  It’s mostly pictures and video and a few brief stories that are too short for my normal blog but too long for Twitter.

I realized that I could not only live-blog our TOOTPU (the DC IF bloggers) cookie exchange in real time, but I could include pictures, videos, and sound files.  Instantaneously.  You could email me and say, “turn the camera on Leah and have her give me a video message” and I could turn the camera on Leah and have her give you a video message.  How crazy is that?

I really think I’m in love with this new space.

I will never give up Stirrup Queens itself, but I can see myself using this other space more and more.  Just to record moments and small things I notice.

What are you showing today?

Click here or scroll down to the bottom of this post if this is your first time joining along (Important: link to the permalink for the post, not the main url for your blog and use your blog’s name, not your name. Links not going to a Show and Tell post will be deleted). The list is open from now until late Friday night and a new one is posted every week.

Right now, if you’re living in America, you’re probably travelling to a Thanksgiving celebration. Or if you’re not reading this until Thursday, maybe you’re chewing a bite of turkey. Or you’ve holed yourself in the guest bedroom so you can read some blogs rather than socialize with your cousins. Because this is a universal truth: family-oriented holidays are hard when you’ve run into a wall with family building. And this is true for the multitude of holidays stretching from Thanksgiving (Canadian or American) to New Years.

It starts with the fact that holidays make us think about family. It makes us notice who isn’t at the table and we think about how we thought the holiday pictures would look, namely, the child we thought we’d be holding. We’ve mentally dressed our future child in holiday clothes and considered the set-up of the snapshot. We’ve mentally noted the faces of everyone in our family as they hold our not-yet child, the way they beam at the newest member.

And secondly, holidays bring us together with family; family who is well-meaning, but lean on the standard catching-up questions concerning jobs, relationships, and family building. Without being there for your day-to-day existence, they have no idea how much these questions are salt in the wound. Other family members may arrive pregnant or toting young children, and it can be emotionally painful to sit in a room with small children even if you also love those small family members.

Stacey’s Thoughts on Infertility poignantly gets to the heart of the matter:

Lately I’ve noticed that it’s getting harder and harder to conjure up those same old feelings of joy for holidays. I think with each passing year, the emptiness in my heart and in my home become harder to ignore. Certainly there is joy and happiness and love in my heart and in my home. My husband and I are very happy with our marriage and in our little family of two. But there is a huge, unfulfilled desire that neither of us can ignore. We want children. We want to be parents. There is a void there for us both. There is an empty place in both of our hearts and in our home where our children should be. The holidays remind me of this.

I’ve Got News For You is also struggling with Thanksgiving, and writes, “I honestly don’t know that I can do this. I don’t know that I can go to this house and listen to the, what I’m sure will be incessant, talk of my SIL’s pregnancy. I don’t think I can put on a happy face and pretend to be excited for them when the abyss of sadness goes with me everywhere. I don’t think I can fake it all afternoon and evening.”

So what’s an infertile person to do to get through the holidays?

I’ll offer up the same advice I gave last year with additional notes from comments that came on that old post:

• Create your own incentives and treat getting through the holiday season as your job. Pay yourself in whatever will make you happy. For instance, after a trip to the local mall to have your picture taken with your niece and Santa, pay yourself with a manicure. Attending the holiday party from hell may win you an entire bar of chocolate. It’s worth setting up small incentives and budgeting for your own happiness because it can be something to focus on during the task at hand.
• You know the idea that you can take a large school and make it small but you can’t go the other way around? Flip that concept when it comes to the holidays: take a small part of the holiday and make it big. Focus on something that you can do and make it your contribution to the holiday season. If you know celebrating Christmas will be too much, make sure you throw yourself wholeheartedly into helping prepare Thanksgiving (and then develop an unfortunate case of the stomach flu on December 24th). If you can organize the family gift but can’t fathom how you’ll do Christmas dinner, make sure you send out an email to your siblings early asking for photos of your nieces and nephews so you can design a great picture calendar for your parents. And then skip the ham.
• Do all your shopping online instead of subjecting yourself to walking past the displays of toys and Christmas baby clothes at the store. Keep it simple this year–you have a lifetime to plot out the most fantastic gifts of all time. This may be the year that you need to buy a DVD or book for each person your list and be done.
• Leave a note in your pocket: write a note to yourself, ask a friend to jot something down, trade letters with your partner, or simply leave a list of names (therapist, fellow bloggers, the friend you’ll drink with the moment you get home) in your pocket to touch as a reminder that someone has your back when you begin to feel overwhelmed at the holiday table. I can’t be with you at your Christmas dinner (the whole Jew and vegetarian thing aside, I just don’t think your family is going to be cool if you drag along a random infertility blogger), but I can give you a note right now to keep in your pocket. Simply print this out and whenever you get overwhelmed, touch it and remember that there are people out there who get you. And change the line about mini hot dogs if you’re a vegetarian:

Hey Sweetie:

I know it was really hard to come to this party/dinner/get together but now that you’re here, you’re even closer to it being over. Try to enjoy yourself, but if you can’t, nip into the bathroom for a cry or bury yourself at the buffet table and do nothing but eat mini hot dogs for the rest of the night. There is no shame in enduring rather than enjoying and you need to do whatever you need to do to get through this without ruining any relationships. Make sure you take time for yourself today/tonight after you get home. I’m here on the other end of the computer if you need me.

Love,
Mel

• Pick and Choose: there is no rule that says you must attend every event during the holiday season–even if you’ve gone to everything in the past. If it’s going to cause more grief than it’s worth, just attend the event. But if you can get your partner to “surprise” you with a holiday trip, all the better.
• Book: I actually include a lot of ideas like these in Navigating the Land of If to get through life in general; not just holiday. I’m just saying.
• I will tell you the only trick I have up my sleeve: the holiday card. Most holiday cards we receive are either generic package-of-12 types or pictures of kids/families. We send out cards every year that routinely get responses that it was the best card they’ve gotten all year, or sometimes the best card ever. Sometimes one fabulous photo of us in some fabulous locale; sometimes a whole series around the world (which it will have to be again this year). We used to just have a normal photo card, but now we include a newsy update of career progress and travels. The people with kids (or limited funds, or limited outlook) say, “Wow, your life is amazing. I’m stuck here at home.” I’m not trying to make them feel envious of us, but envy is way better than pity. –Baby Smiling in Back Seat
• All of our friends have been sending photo X-mas cards in the past years. In previous years, we’d send an awesome vacation photo. Like- heh!- we still had fun this year!–Mrs. Spock
• One tip I figured out early on: If you can’t shop online & have to go to the mall, find out what hours Santa will be there — & then go when he’s not around. There won’t be as many kids & babies around to deal with then. –The Road Less Travelled
• I manage to work in a reference to Katie in every edition of our Christmas letter… usually in relation to our volunteer work. But I like being able to remind people that she was real & is still a part of our lives. My Christmas card itself usually has either an angel or Classic Pooh theme (which was also the theme of her nursery). I know other people who use angel stamps on their cards as a subtle reminder of their lost baby(s). –The Road Less Travelled
• This year I solved my problem in the cowardly fashion… I offered to work. I work at a domestic violence shelter, which is open 24/7… So I figure I might as well. I can get paid double time as well, so it’s all sorts of awesome. –An Unwanted Path
• I started listening to holiday music in August this year. I’m using it as my own private technique for connecting with the joy of the season early enough that I won’t suddenly get trampled in the crush of child-centric images, events, and conversations coming my way during the *actual* season. I want this year to be different! –Lisa

What tricks do you have up your sleeve to get you through the holiday season?

Cross-posted with BlogHer.

(Melissa clinks her glass to get everyone’s attention.  Clears throat.  Begins)

Welcome everyone, to the first virtual ALI Thanksgiving meal–an online meal that I hope will become a yearly tradition before we scatter to our respective actual Thanksgiving tables.  Is it held during American Thanksgiving week instead of Canadian or another country’s thankfulness celebration?  Yes, and I apologize for that, but at least I didn’t hold it on American Thanksgiving so hopefully everyone will feel comfortable participating regardless of where you live.

(polite laughter from the non-American contingency)

The Thanksgiving myth is that people who had nothing more in common than simple humanness stopped looking at each other’s differences on this day in history and sat down at the table together for a meal.  It’s a meal about survival; about going into the winter knowing the odds are stacked against you and still pausing for a moment to think about the here and now.  And truly, what better myth to describe our own virtual Thanksgiving table, where donor gamete bloggers are sitting next to those living child-free after infertility and the adoption bloggers are seated next to those starting their first IUI.  We have nothing more in common than our humanness and a desire to build our families.  Some have crossed the river and are standing on the opposite bank with the families they struggled to build.  Others are still wading in the water.  And some are left on the original bank, not able yet to move ahead or deciding to stay out of the water.  And yet, we place aside our differences–wait, not place aside, we learn from our differences, we utilize our differences–to create community.  We all have the means to support one another.  It is as simple as a word, a kind gesture.

I would like to start off the festivities by making a toast: to thankfulness.  I will always be incredibly grateful to this online community, a community that has grown to almost 2100 people currently, not to mention those who have slipped away from our community over the years.  I’m not sure those who have never experienced this can understand how it feels to know that there are people around the world connected to you emotionally.  You are tied to their story and they are tied to yours and together, those threads intertwine to make a web strong enough to hold all of us who walk over it.  It’s not a spider web meant to ensnare; it’s more the netting below the trapeze, there to catch you and cushion your landing in case you fall.

I asked all of you to bring a dish to this multi-culti potluck meal–there is no need to stick to traditional Thanksgiving fare when you have such a diverse table spanning the entire globe.  Please share with everyone at the table what you brought and why.

I’ll begin by pointing out that pot–right over there–next to that orange dish…  Do you see it?  I brought vegetarian matzo ball soup.  Why?  Well, the reality is that meat eaters can eat vegetarian but vegetarians cannot eat meat, therefore, I wanted my soup inclusive (someone at the table shouts out something about how I’m going to make everyone sing “Kumbaya”.  I pick up a roll and toss it in their general direction).  I’m Jewish, so I wanted to bring a dish that reflects my world and I think that matzo ball soup is comforting.  If I do nothing else right in this world, let it be said that I give comfort well?  So, I brought vegetarian matzo ball soup.  What did you bring?

And please, start eating as everyone is introducing their dish.  We don’t want the food to get cold and there are so many of us at this table.  Thank you so much for coming, and I’m going to carry the warmth of this meal with me for the rest of this week.  In fact, I just might print out this post and the comments below and carry it with me in my pocket to my actual Thanksgiving meal to have all of you there and feel free to do the same if you need the fortification.

Just so you know what I hypocrite I am before I begin this thought, I set up a lifestream site called Stirrup Queens on the Road (you can get to it from the new pomegranate icon below the header) and posted pictures and video from last night’s party on it.  I’m not sure where it’s going or how often I’ll post there, but it seems like a nice receptacle for certain thoughts, pictures, and videos.  If you want to follow along, you can add the feed directly into Google Reader.

I was recently introduced to this idea of flow (or lifestream) vs. blogging, namely, new software as well as established sites such as Twitter or Facebook that make thoughts immediate (as opposed to blogging, which can be immediate, but more often, re-read, edited, polished, and made pretty).

Beyond Blogs writes: “Basically, conversation is moving from a very static and slow form of conversation — the comments thread on blog posts — to a more dynamic and fast form of conversation: into the flow in Twitter, Friendfeed, and others. I think this directionality may be like a law of the universe: conversation moves to where is is most social.”

The ever-brilliant Denise at BlogHer explained it best when I pointed out that I can’t tell the difference between a regular blog and a site on Posterous.  The difference might not be clear-cut to the reader, but it’s definitely different for the writer because of the way the information is being processed behind the scenes.  Meaning, posts in a lifestream space are instantaneous.  What you’re reading is pretty much happening right now, much like Twitter.  People are snapping a picture with their cell phone and it is going directly up on the Web.  Or they’re typing a few thoughts while waiting for the bus and it’s going up on their site before they’ve boarded the vehicle.  There are no drafts, no saved posts, no worrying if you got it just right because it’s all about the ephemeral.  The moment.

I have to admit that as much as I like Twitter and Facebook, I’ve never felt as comfortable with those mediums as I have with blogging.  Maybe because I’m all about circumspection.  I like to write not knowing how the post will end and see what comes out of me.  I like to sit on some posts for a few days and see if they’re still relevant or resonate with me after time has passed.  I wrote an angry post a few days ago that seemed important enough to use up an hour composing and now, when I look at it, it doesn’t seem worth sending out into the blogosphere.  If this site had been used as a lifestream space, you would have gotten my bile.  Uncensored.

That could be really dangerous if used without thinking.

And it’s not just that I don’t like to write in that manner–I don’t like to necessarily read in that manner either.  I have limited computer time and mediums such as Twitter simply move too quickly for me to keep up plus the writing tends to have no thought behind it.  I tend to pop in and out of Twitter and therefore miss the majority of tweets.  But blogs move at the right speed–the posts collect in my Reader and I can hit all of them when I find the time.  I’m afraid that reading lifestream spaces would eat up more of my unstructured time.  I want to know that if I’m turning my attention over to read something, that some thought has been put into the words.  If I have ten minutes, I’d rather read a thought-provoking post than read 140 characters.  It’s pretty rare that I have a tweet remain with me or affect me emotionally.  Time is precious–I’m going to give it to words that mean something to me.

I guess what it comes down to is that it’s the difference between a live-broadcast and an edited television show.  I’m not sure one is more honest or true than the other, but there is a thrill with the live-broadcast when you consider that anything could happen.  There are times when I hit post immediately upon completing a post (for instance, Bay).  But more often, a post has sat for a few hours, a few days in the draft folder.

Are you more comfortable with Lifestreaming (instantaneous blog posting, Twitter, etc) or blogging (sometimes instantaneous posting, but more often, edited and carefully constructed pieces).  There is obvious room for both mediums, but do you agree with the quote above that people are going to gravitate towards the speed of lifestreaming over the slow nature (in comparison) of blogging?

And my experience thus far with the lifestream site–just because you can put it up there instantaneously, doesn’t mean that it is read instantaneously.  The comments still come in at the same pace as a normal blog.  Perhaps as more people join the site and begin using it, it will move faster.  And then I might have to step off the ride.

Jeanne Claude, Christo’s wife, died this week.  She was only 74.  They were still working on the same project I heard them speaking about back in 1995–fabric panels over a river in Colorado.

I broke up with my boyfriend at the time over Christo and Jeanne Claude.  There had been a limited number of tickets given out to art students to meet them at a reception after the talk and I got one of these tickets.  My boyfriend at the time was in Mexico and we had a standing weekly phone call date because there was only one telephone in the town.  He would stand in the general store at the designated time and I would call and butcher my way through two minutes of speaking Spanish with the store owner.  There was no other way to reach him–the phone was an hour walk from where he lived and no one was going to fetch him for me.

The talk started late, which pushed the reception late, which meant that I had to leave before the end of the talk to get back to my apartment in time.  I cried the entire walk home, so incredibly frustrated because I wanted to meet them so badly.  At the designated time, I made the phone call and spoke to the store owner.  Except, as it sometimes happened, my boyfriend wasn’t there because he was hanging out with some friends.  The reason is that he cared only about himself because he was a self-centered little shit with a heart the size of a rancid sesame seed.  Not that I’m still bitter or anything.

Maybe 45 minutes later, I got a collect call from him telling me to try him again at the store, but missing meeting Christo and Jeanne Claude was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  We broke up that night over the phone and again and again for the next 10 months.  I am not the best person with break-ups.

*******

I told Magpie how much the ChickieNob loves Gillian Murphy and Angel Corella and she was able to get her three stills from a performance of Swan Lake.  I brought the envelope to school when I went to pick her up.  I wish I had filmed the look on her face when she first saw the pictures.  It was as if she had found a fairy in her cereal box.  Her mouth dropped open and time stood still, and then her whole face exploded with happiness and she ran through the hallway shrieking, “this is Gillian Murrrrrrrrrrrphyyyyyyyyy!”

It is pretty cool to see someone find their passion and it has only gotten more intense as the months have passed.  When she is not listening to the music from classical ballets or looking at old ballet programs or sitting at the kitchen table drawing scenes from various ballets, she is either dancing in the living room or in front of the mirror upstairs or at the ballet studio.

Prince Siegfried learning of Odile’s deception from Swan Lake (from L to R: a pensive Prince Siegfried, an enormous-eyed Odile, a chipper-looking Von Rothbart, and an inexplicably-happy Queen)

Alessandra Ferri and Angel Corella dancing Romeo and Juliet and defying gravity with a far-left lean.

The ballet slippers this week were because the ChickieNob told her teacher that her happiest time is when we’re dancing in the living room.  Yes, I do pretend ballet in my overalls.  And I’ll never film this because we went to a ballet studio with my shoes this week and when I saw myself gallumpfing in the mirror, I realized that it simply doesn’t make a lovely visual.  I did not inherit gracefulness.  But we have fun calling out the story to each over the music.

And because the ChickieNob gets to direct, poor Wolvog is always stuck playing random townsperson #7.

*******

The Weekly What If: what if you could only eat one genre of food for the rest of your life, what would it be?  As in, Japanese, Thai, El Salvadorian, Ethiopian, bar food, carnival food, vegan organic.  How specific could you make your choice while still giving yourself options within the genre?

*******

And now, the blogs…

I Never Thought It Made Sense Anyway has a post this week about an off-handed comment that was made that affected her greatly.  It’s impossible to write about this brief piece without revealing the words and the impact they had on her, but needless to say, it’s a post that packs a punch.

Project Progeny has an incredibly moving post about how her body grieved after she stopped nursing.  The whole post is gorgeous, but this part in particular made me hold my breath: “And, even more absurdly, the moment begins to feel holy.  It’s perfectly quiet, and I am alone.  My mind and spirit become quiet, and there is only the release of the pain and pressure of stagnant milk in my breasts.  It feels like my breast is crying tears of milk into the warm water.”  You need to read this whole post about the body.

Bagmomma has a post that I love, a twist on the more common posts written when an infertile man or woman needs to go to a baby-focused life-cycle event.  The post is about her brother and SIL and she writes, “Thank you for your unwavering support and always holding out your hand to me. It has not been easy to be related to me.  I have far too much baggage, and most sane people would have given up on me by now.”  It’s a beautiful post that made me see the world in a different way.

Lastly, Life Family and the Pursuit of Family has a post about sex.  You know how you always think the grass is greener somewhere else?  Well this is the post that you need to read to remind yourself that everyone experiencing infertility has a parched, brown lawn and the difference is merely this parched, brown lawn over here or that parched, brown lawn over there.  It is a brutally honest post, one that took enormous guts to write.  I have a feeling many will understand when she writes: “Any other night that would have been fine. Any other night that might have dinged my pride a little, but nothing more. Last night, though, more than my pride was on the line. Last night, our future was on the line.  Last night, it was the equivalent of saying he didn’t love me.”

The roundup to the Roundup: rest in peace, Jeanne Claude.  The ChickieNob is grooving on ballet.  The Weekly What If.  And lots of great blog posts to read.