Posts from — August 2011

Every time I go through airport security, I think about a blog post I read a year or two ago where the passenger stripped (and filmed herself with her camera phone) going through security as her protest to what she considered extreme measures on the part of the TSA.  I have to start by admitting that I don’t have any problem with airport security.  I don’t mind extra questioning, I don’t mind my bags being searched, I don’t mind having people peek at my panties through an x-ray machine.  It doesn’t offend me; it doesn’t freak me out.  I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it either.  It sort of just is and I accept that if I want to fly, it’s a part of flying.

I admire those who are offended by it who choose to protest, but it’s never going to be a fight I’ll take up because I think TSA does a fairly decent job.

I know a lot of people do have a problem with TSA and feel their rights are being violated whenever they fly.  It’s a matter of privacy — they have nothing to hide, but they don’t necessarily want TSA peeking at the vibrator in their bag.  It’s a matter of decency — they have no problem stripping down for the doctor, but they certainly don’t want a TSA employee peeking at their junk on a screen.

I think those feelings are valid too even if I don’t share them.

But that isn’t really what this post is about.

What I find interesting is when people raise a rebel yell about privacy in regards to flying (and a while back, when TSA introduced the new machines, there were a slew of articles and blog posts about privacy being violated), but they have sitemeter or statcounter or google analytics on their blog; all technology that negates another person’s privacy.

I say this without judgment — I have no problem with sitemeters (I’m going to use this term to collectively refer to all blog stat programs) — but it is a discrepancy that I think is worth a discussion.

Sitemeters and the TSA invade your privacy in much the same way.  In both cases, you are pretty much anonymous (I doubt the TSA agent remembers me five seconds later, and only the person who checks my ID knows my identity), though tiny facts are learned about you.

Without a sitemeter, if I came to your blog, read and left, you’d never know.  But with that technology, you know my IP address, you know where my service provider is located, you know how long I was on your site, which posts I clicked to read.  With some programs, you can label an IP address and start counting how often a certain person is on your site (though this is an imperfect system since most people read from multiple devices/places).

It is impossible to fly without having your privacy compromised by TSA, and it is impossible to surf the Web without having bits of your journey recorded by various sites.  It is one thing when I am a nameless entity interacting with another nameless entity such as Amazon.  They are not taking my choices personally.  It’s just a business; and keeping track of what I do on their site helps them hone their business.  The same thing with the TSA — I’m just a flyer.  Once they have checked me, they forget about me.

But blogs are different.  It is another thing when I am someone you know interacting with someone I know, such as… you.  Sometimes we do take other people’s choices personally.  Though I don’t believe I’ve ever had someone tell me that they thought I was on their site when I wasn’t; I have often encountered someone thinking that I wasn’t reading simply because they put too much stock in the abilities of their sitemeter.  And with a sitemeter, my IP address becomes linked to my email address and all other information that you know about me — something that big businesses can’t always do due to sheer volume of traffic.

I know some will be reading this and shaking their heads about this side of blogging.  I often shake my head when I think about the far-reaching arm of technology.  I also — akin to my feelings about the TSA — have little problem with having that side of my Internet privacy compromised.  I don’t mind if you know that I was on your site and didn’t comment.  I don’t mind if you see how long I spent (don’t judge; I’m a slow reader sometimes when I’m thinking).  I don’t mind if you look at the other posts that I clicked on to read.

I don’t love it; I don’t beg for it to happen, but I also understand that just as the TSA is doing so to keep me safe and not because they want to violate my privacy for the gleeful satisfaction of violating my privacy, most people spy on their readers not for the sake of keeping tabs on various people’s behaviours, but instead to learn something (fine tune their blog, see what people are interested in).

I am curious enough about where people stand on privacy issues that I created this poll below.

If you can’t see the embedded poll, you can also click here to fill it out on Google.  I’ll have the results of the poll in a post soon.

There may be those who wholeheartedly disagree that sitemeters are a violation of privacy on par with the TSA (and feel free to try to convince me — I want to discuss this).

But in both cases, the only way around having someone know many details about you is to opt not to participate — to either not fly or not use the Internet (and yes, there are private planes just as there are identity concealing ways to surf the Web, but I’m going with the general state of things vs. the outlying measures).  If you’re going to fly or surf the Web, there will be people peeking into your life.  Into your bags or into your Internet tendencies.  And while I don’t have a problem either with the TSA employee seeing that I’m reading Harry Potter yet again or have you see that I just read your most recent post, I often wonder why people have a problem with one thing while actively engaging in the other.

Is curiosity — assuming that is the driving force behind having a sitemeter — more noble than perceived safety (since the point of TSA is to protect travelers regardless of whether or not you agree that it works)?

Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations.

Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere — blog writers and/or blog readers.
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• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Eggs In A Row (pcos, infertility, coping)
3. Adoption Adventures and More (adoption, infertility, endometriosis)
4. Mommy Odyssey (rpl, ectopic pregnancy (left tube removed! I’m infertile-chic!), generally crazy)
5. kate; uncensored (life, relationships, struggles)
6. The Unbroken World (infertility, pregnancy, life)
7. My Infertility Story (infertility, coping, peace)
8. Four of a Kind (parenting, secondary infertility, loss)
9. First Time Twins (IVF, infertility, miscarriage)
10. Hobbit-ish Thoughts & Ramblings (parenting after losses, ttc #2, cooking)
11. Trying for a baby (FET #2, endometriosis, IF)
12. Wistfulgirl’s World (infertility, adoption, Dad’s death)
13. Creating a Family (infertility, adoption, adoptive parenting)
14. Dragondreamer’s Lair (parenting, secondary infertility, crafts)
15. Ambition: motherhood (mfi, diui, early pregnancy)
16. Finding My New Normal (stillbirth, donor egg, infertility)
17. Here We Go Again (parenting, random, babyloss)
18. Cablearms (art, life, miscarriages)
19. Tippy & Tidy’s Tumultuous Trip To Toddlers (TTC#1, unexplained, donor eggs)
20. Donor Diva: Mother via Egg Donation (egg donation, parenting)
21. MissConception  (twins, IVF, PCOS)
22. Lifeslurper (donor eggs, over forty, IVF)
23. The Days of Our Lives (infertility, adoption, faith)
24. Flogging the Muse (art, painting, creativity)
25. This International Life (travel, expat life, Germany)
26. Mommy-In-Waiting (pregnant, twins, IVF#4)
27. The Rocky Road to Motherhood (life after IVF)
28. EndoandBeyond  (infertility, miscarriage, food)
29. Trying not to scream (first IVF, infertility, loss)
30. A Miracle in the Works (autoimmune issues, infertility, ttc#1 after a loss)
31. Where Do We Go From Here? (infertility, pcos, family)
32. Meier Madness (pcos, iui, keeping sane-ish)
33. Feeling Beachie (life, humor, family)
34. Rasta Less Traveled (FET, surrogacy in India, egg donor)
35. Unglamorous (TTC #2, toddler, musings)
36. The 2 Week Wait (infertility, pregnancy, humor)
37. Bring on the Babies… (ivf, recurrent pregnancy loss, miscarriage)
38. Walking an Unknown Path (unexplained infertility, miscarriage, life)
39. My Lady of the Lantern (neonatal loss, grief, pregnant again)
40. Sybil and Alex (ivf#2, pcos, furbaby)
41. Then Comes the Baby in the Baby Carriage (TTC #1, TCM, chemical pregnancy)
42. Becoming Parents (raging undiagnosed infertile)
43. Annoyed Army Wife (IVF #1, humor/sarcasm, army life)
44. Living Our Miracle (embryo adoption, infertility)
45. Searching for Serendipity (infertility, wellness, food)
46. A Page In My Book (IF grad, family, humor)
47. Zero Guarantees (suro, pregnant, twins)
48. all i ever wished for… (ivf #3, 2ww, life)
49. Trying To Conceive (pregnancy after IVF, emotions, venting)
50. Hearts Joined, Hands Fast (pregnant, ivf, mfi)
51. Mommy Forward (adoption, self-improvement, faith)
52. Stress Free Infertility (stress free tips, advice, success)
53. Created Family (unexplained infertility, IUI #1, grad school)
54. Lose to Gain (ivf, intuitive eating, thyroid)
55. Colours of Cattiz (ivf#2, male factor, uk)
56. The Ladies in Waiting Book Club (infertility, books, community)
57. It’s Him, Me, and Our One Day Baby (infertility, egg donor, love)
58. AFM (parenting after loss, miscarriage, defense life)
59. Hoping Lightning Will Strike Twice (secondary IF, family)
60. Yolk: A blog about eggs and sperm (pregnant, humour, infertility)
61. IUI to Roux-en-Y (weight loss, surgery, my journey)
62. Bohemian Transplant (infertility, pregnancy, recipes)
63. Baby Bump Envy (infertility, endometriosis, miscarriage)
64. Whitney & Erick (RPL, miscarriage, adoption?)
65. Taking the Long Way (rpl; anxiety over current pregnancy; third trimester)
66. Rainbow Making 101 (miscarriage, IUI, 2WW)
67. Of Seeds and Thorns (recent graduate, random thoughts, recipes)
68. Infertile in a Fertile Land (journey hope waiting)
69. Weathering the Storm (adoption, waiting, life)
70. I’m Just Ducky, Thanks (FET, recurrent loss, adoption)
71. A Year On… Our New Beginning {hopefully} (stillbirth, secondary IF, IVF)
72. A Greater Yes (embryo adoption, parenting, infertility)
73. I’m Very Far Away  (expat, IVF, FET)
74. The Stork Drop Zone (infertility, humor, life)
75. The Barreness (infertility, art, insight)
76. Too Many Fish To Fry (infertility, advocacy, joy)
77. Miss(ed)Conception (IVF mommy)
78. I Was Told There Would Be Pajamas (babies, marriage, b.s.)
79. World of My Imagination (writing, inspiration, distraction)
80. BattleFish (ttc, FET #2, life)
81. wannabee (adoption, loss, craftiness)
82. Thus is the life (infertility,TTC#2, faith)
83. From IF to When (international adoption, newbie, humor)
84. A peek into our journey (IVF #2 2ww, humor)
85. Cinderella Wore Glass Slippers (FET, pregnant (finally!), life)
86. Our New Plan A (high-risk UU pregnancy)
87. Bridgit’s Beehive (twins, preemies)
88. Fertile in God’s Timing (infertility, treatment, emotions)
89. Searching for the Missing Piece (domestic adoption, RPL, life)
90. Life in the White House (donor sperm, life, pregnancy)
91. Les Terres Fertiles (unexplained infertility journey)
92. In Due Time (life, infertility, miscarriage)
93. Life’s Everyday Adventures (everyday life, randomness)
94. Embracing the Rain (mthfr, dor, rpl)
95. Holly’s Narrative Dream (secondary infertility, coping, life)
96. Notes From The Ninth Circle (insurance, stalled, frustration)
97. The list is now closed.  The October list will open on the 29th

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A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments – 12 comments instead of 6.

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A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

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A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is red, the next month it will be yellow, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

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Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

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A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

Looking for the comment section? It has been closed on this post. Use the form in the directions to add yourself to the list.

I spent most of Hurricane Irene obsessively watching the power company’s outage map.  I literally was hitting refresh every fifteen minutes (or sometimes it was more like every eight minutes), watching coloured outage spots pop up.  Josh pointed out that I didn’t need to do this because we would obviously know that we were without power by the fact that the lights would no longer be on.  It’s not as if the power company gives out a heads up that you might want to save your work because you’re going to be losing your power in five minutes.

Yet I couldn’t stop doing it.  All the towns around us lost power, leaving us this sole uncoloured square on the map until the middle of the night.

It felt strange just going through our night as if nothing was happening, even though we still had power.  This is perhaps why so many children are born nine months after catastrophic events.  The sex isn’t just the reaffirmation of life or the boredom that comes from sitting in the dark.  It’s this feeling that you should be drinking that bottle of vodka you were saving or chopping off your hair.  Anything but the mundane tasks that make up a normal night.

*******

I woke up at 3:17 am, one child in our bed, the other still unconscious in her room.  I stood by the window and stared at the trees which were being blown so hard that it looked like the tops were trying to kiss the ground.  Just as I couldn’t stop refreshing the outage map, I couldn’t tear myself away from the window.  The wind was so loud that it sounded like an ongoing car alarm.

The machines shut off and the machines came back on several times throughout the night, but in the morning, we had power whereas the two streets on either side of us were out.  The pavement had a carpet of new, green leaves.

Suddenly, it felt like we needed a pet.  Like this task couldn’t wait until it made more sense all things considered.

The twins and I made a list of names over breakfast, and then I called the store, wondering if they also had power.  They were set to open and they didn’t even question the sanity of driving on the branch-littered roads to get a hamster a few minutes after a storm ended.  It’s almost as if this is the status quo — hurricanes end and people show up to bring small rodents back to their houses.

We bought a short-haired teddy bear hamster that the ChickieNob named Cozy Jackson.

The owner of the store was feeding cockatiels as we went to the register to pay for our hamster and all of his accoutrements.  It’s a family-owned store and the woman only works with local breeders for all the animals she sells.  She sold us our guinea pig when I was a child, and now I was at the store with my children, buying them their first pet — closing a circle.  She nodded when I told her this, as if confirming that this was the way it’s supposed to be.  You are supposed to have something to love when you’re a child, and then you’re supposed to grow up and pass along that experience to your children so that they grow up and bring their own children in the future to take home something warm and furry.

Cozy Jackson wasn’t thrilled to be in a cardboard box for the ride home, and he ate through the sides of the case.  I kept my hands over the holes so he couldn’t escape, and as he ran back and forth, thumping against my two hands, I fell in love with him.  I fell into such a deep love that I heard myself announcing it to everyone in the car.

We gave him a few hours to get accustomed to our house and his new cage, watching him from a distance.  By the afternoon, he would sit quietly in my hand, almost purring.

Oh my G-d, I love him so damn much.

*******

We are obviously not going to create a hurricane baby mostly because we are not capable of creating any baby, at least not without a catheter and drugs.  But I will always associate Cozy with the hurricane.  He came at the end of a tumultuous summer.

I am lonely during the day when the twins aren’t here.  I have been known to make up excuses so I can swing by the school to say hello. (“I just remembered that I wanted to go to the book fair for the fourteenth time!”)  I wrote this post sitting next to Cozy, chatting with him as he eats a chunk of carrot and then falls back asleep after cleaning his face.  While I still have the impulse to go by the school and peek into their classroom, it is kept in check slightly by the presence of Cozy.  By this tiny rodent who is willing to curl up in my hand.

I can’t believe I waited so long to get him.

I’ve long suspected that I would do everything differently if there was another child here; if I didn’t go from full house to empty house so quickly that it produces whiplash.  That it would be like the power company giving me a five minute warning before the outage.

Cozy confirms this in a way, and that only makes it more bittersweet.  To know that I was right in my guesswork about that third child.

I promise not to write too often about my enormous love of Cozy Jackson or to brag too much about his brilliance.  But seriously, isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve seen today?

Apologies for the crappy quality of the photos.  It’s difficult to take white-on-white.  And it’s hard to convince him that he wants to hold still for the camera.

Many years ago, Josh was on a work trip to Berlin and I was at home in our old apartment.  For some reason, the government issued an emergency preparedness situation for DC — something tied to chemical warfare or biological warfare — due to intelligence or some pivotal moment in the war.

The news came around noon, and my boss suggested that I head out to the hardware store early to collect supplies since the lines were likely to be long.  So I left the school early and went out to a nearby hardware store where the lines were already long.  I loaded my cart with painter’s plastic, duct tape, and the infamous pee bucket.  I filled an enormous box with all the dictated supplies: manual can opener, food, toilet paper, water.

I was proud of myself for being so prepared, and friends came over to marvel at the organizational quality of our supplies (for instance, I had even packed dry showers and pantiliners so we could avoid that not-so-fresh feeling).  We never used the supplies except to dip into the food portion and consume the dry-roasted peanuts when we wanted to make trail mix and didn’t have any nuts in the house.  Over the years, the box has fallen into disrepair and kicked to the corner of the storage room.

All other disasters, we’ve sort of shrugged our shoulders and had a few items in the house, but we’ve never refilled the emergency preparedness box.

Until now.

I spent Friday going around town, collecting things we might need — just the basics this time — for the storm.  Batteries, flashlights, food, water.  I filled the car with gasoline because the Washington Post told me to fill the car with gasoline.  And, of course, I charged the portable Internet.  I mean, Internet access is an emergency supply, right?

*******

Here’s the thing: you can’t really prepare.  I wrote this post before the storm hit and scheduled it to run while we were in the hurricane.  Therefore, I don’t know the outcome; though you do.  Isn’t that strange?  I’m writing about it, knowing the storm is coming, but it’s still two states away.  And you are reading this, with the storm already here, knowing more than I do about its actual destruction.

Like so many places in life, you run around beforehand, trying to prepare yourself, thinking you can prepare yourself, but how can one really prepare themselves?  You know what I need right now more than I knew what I would need when this moment came.  It’s all the curse of retrospect.  I’m sure I’m kicking myself over an item I didn’t think to get or a grill that wasn’t tied down.  But how could I possibly know what would happen even though you can see the situation so clearly from the time period where you stand?

We prepared so long for the twins to separate into two rooms: talked about it, cried about it, shopped for it, cleaned for it.  And then the first night came and it went nothing how we predicted.  Well, yes, it mostly followed one of the scenarios we considered, but since we thought up at least ten different scenarios, that isn’t that extraordinary.  And there was also a curve ball thrown into the night for good measure; something we couldn’t have predicted.  Life only allows you to prepare so far.

We’ve prepared to return to school: bought the binders and scissors, filled out the forms, met the teacher, connected with the other students.  I think that we’ve done our best to set them on a good path.  But I’m sure that no matter how prepared I feel in this moment, I will feel the same amount of surprise at some point in the year as I would if the chair legs gave out on the IKEA kitchen set.  There is simply no way to know, no way to cover all my bases.  I’ll probably kick myself at some point when retrospect kicks in and I say to myself, “I should have known, I should have thought about this.”

Maybe this post is just a reminder that I couldn’t have known.

Even good things; it’s just impossible to know.  Parenting, for example, is both close to what I thought and miles away from what I imagined before the twins arrived.  I think it can be even worse for infertile men and women because we spend so much time focusing on getting pregnant and staying pregnant, or having a safe delivery, or finalizing the adoption that we sometimes forget to look ahead.  And frankly, sometimes it’s just too hard to look ahead.  I couldn’t spend my time visualizing myself as a mother when I was in the throes of treatments.  I had to focus my energy on getting through the next blood draw, the next injection, the next procedure.  It also hurt too much to think too long about myself as a mother when I couldn’t get to motherhood.

And so, when I was finally in a place to parent, it felt a lot like preparing for a hurricane.  You read the books and you buy the supplies and you imagine through 1000 scenarios.  And then parenting actually happens and it rarely goes exactly as planned.  Which is both good and bad.  You kick yourself in retrospect and you congratulate yourself for forethought.  But it’s all just a game of roulette, with the figurative ball bouncing along the wheel.  It could go red or it could go black and there’s just no way to truly know ahead of time.

Even bad things; it’s just impossible to know.  Saying goodbye to someone, for example.  You prepare yourself mentally and you prepare the logistics and you take off from work and choose the outfit for the funeral.  And then the moment is there and retrospect kicks in, remembering the one last thing you wanted to say, the one last question you wanted to ask.  There is simply no way to truly prepare yourself, to do enough that you pass through the grief smoothly.  There are only things you can do so that you don’t have regrets, but that preparatory work doesn’t scoop the sadness out of a person’s heart.

I don’t know if anyone has really discovered a way to do that.

*******

I was as prepared as I could be for this storm, and it may turn out to be nothing: simply bad rain.  Or it could turn out to lead to a loss of power or flooding.  I have the last bag of M&Ms that were at the store.  We have many bottles of water.  We have four different types of granola bars so we can have a granola bar feast if need be.  But you know exactly how I weathered the storm because you’re reading this about 24 hours after it was written.

Isn’t that strange — you know more than I do about my own life.

Taking a break from Hurricane Irene prep…

*******

I’m still pouring drinks over at the bar.  Thank you to all who have taken pity on me declaring Google bankruptcy and told me what I missed this past month.  I’m set to keep up now.

*******

I would like to add that the port-a-potty story is only amusing because it didn’t tip.  If it had and we had been covered in… well, do I really need to spell out for you what we’d be covered in?  If it had tipped over, I wouldn’t have told the story at all.  I would have been too busy bleaching myself.

Even more amusing, the next day, we went to the beach again and the port-a-potties were being trucked away due to impending hurricane.  We took photos of the port-a-potties’ departure.

The ocean was incredibly strange on Wednesday morning.  As east coasters know, the Atlantic beaches generally have big waves that crash right at the shore.  But on Wednesday morning, the big waves were much farther back in the ocean, leaving yards and yards of calm, clear water.  You could see tiny fish and we collected buckets of enormous sea shells.

Weird (and wonderful) trip to the beach.

*******

So to recap my week: went to the beach, experienced an earthquake while in a port-a-potty, comforted my son when Steve Jobs announced his retirement, the twins split into separate rooms (more on that in the future), did back-to-school stuff, and we’re now preparing for a hurricane to hit the coast.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week as well as the week before.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Are You Infertile? The New York Times Thinks You are Rich and Whimsical” (Too Many Fish to Fry)
• “Confessions of an Infertile Imposter” (Stumbling Gracefully)
• “The Butterfly” (Team Baby)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Team Baby has a post called “Depth Perception” about a questionnaire that she filled out for her therapist and the feelings it brought to the surface.  I love the way she describes the advice from her therapist: “We then talked about grieving some more; I feel like she keeps hammering home the same points: this is hard; this is unfair; you need to grieve, but not too much; focus on the present, don’t imagine the future, don’t dwell on the past. It reminds me kind of like when I took belly-dancing classes; you’re instructed to do 27 things at once, most of which are in total contradiction of each other, and you feel like a complete buffoon.”  I hope it was as helpful for her to write the post as it was for others to read it.

Endo&Beyond is trying to find an outlet for her grief.  She writes, “When I have finally worked up the courage to tell people in my awkward way they have all faded away …  I guess I don’t have anything to offer them now.  I guess I am one of those poor friends who isn’t there for them either.  Maybe they’ve got their own blogs wondering why no one hears them.”  It’s a sad post but also a beautiful one.

Lastly, The Cornfed Feminist implores you (and herself) not to judge double strollers.  She writes about the walks she is taking in the evening: “I’ve seen deer running around out there, herons, geese, ducks with ducklings, and jumping fish, plus some really cool birds. Unfortunately I don’t stare at any of that as intently as I watch the strollers.”  I especially love the dinner party idea at the end of the post, and I wonder why more people don’t do this — connect all the individual people they know who are experiencing infertility (or name-that-problem).  After all, she points out that “the online fertility support groups are helpful, but there’s no food. ”

The roundup to the Roundup: Thank you for taking pity on my Google bankruptcy.  My trip to the beach and all the crazy things that have happened this week.  And, of course, lots of great blog posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between August 19th and August 26th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.