So, I stole this idea from the great Ann Douglas. For her new sleep book, she invited people to read the book and then everyone posted a review on the same day. Get it–an online book tour! She could then post comments under the review to respond to points or questions and she posted about the book tour on her own blog. Serenity and I totally want to do this for Elizabeth Swire Falker’s new adoption book so I wrote her and proposed the idea and she said yes.

As you all know, I think her first book–the Infertility Survival Handbook–is just about the best all-inclusive, getting-you-started-with-infertility-information book out there. Great tone, great information, great writing. Falker has been through practically every test and procedure so her writing comes from her own experience. She also adopted her son, which leads us to her new book: The Ultimate Insider’s Guide to Adoption.

It’s subtitle is “everything you need to know about domestic and international adoption.” It begins with helping you decide which type of adoption you want to pursue and then walks you through every step of the process. And the best part? Not only is Falker an adoptive parent herself, but she’s an adoption lawyer. So she knows the whole system.

So who would benefit from reading this book right now and participating? Anyone who has considered adoption but wants more information, anyone who has adopted and can talk about their experience, and anyone who wants to be more informed about adoption to support their fellow stirrup queens and sperm palace jesters. Think about how nice it would be if you were doing treatments and an outsider took the time to read a book about infertility so they could read your blog with that background knowledge. And this is one last way you could get involved for National Adoption Awareness Month (November). Read a book, write a review, and comprehend adoption blogs on an entirely new level.

How the online book tour works: (1) let me know you want to participate by posting a comment on this post or emailing me at thetowncriers@gmail.com. I will create a list of everyone who is participating so people will know to go over to your blog on the review day and read your review. (2) read Falker’s Ultimate Insider’s Guide to Adoption. (3) write a review for the book–your reactions, your feelings, what you learned, etc. (4) post it on your blog on January 10th (that gives you 6 weeks to read and write over the holidays). People can find your review via a link from the big book tour list post on my blog. (5) read everyone else’s post on their blog (oh–and this is why you can’t post before the 10th. I don’t want people influenced by what other people write. It should be your own reaction). (6) Falker will read the reviews and answer comments and questions in an additional post that I’ll put up on January 15th. I’ll go all Barbara Walters and interview her, but without the crying. Since, you know, making people cry isn’t really my thing.

So it’s sort of like a big, bloggity book club from the comfort of your own living room. With the author dropping in to answer questions and respond. And if this works, we can even work backwards and choose books from the book list that people love and try to set up something more regular that we do every other month or so.

Let me know if you’re interested in joining and I’ll create a book tour list of blogs where the reviews will appear.

I received an email from RESOLVE in September giving links to a study that is examining “general social attitudes among individuals who consider themselves childless and individuals who consider themselves childfree after infertility” for a doctoral dissertation. At first glance, I took the two words this way: childless meant that you were still searching for a child but were currently unsuccessful in that pursuit and child-free meant that you had consciously decided to exit infertility by not pursuing a child.

But this article* in the Washington Post today opened a new idea: child-free can also mean that it was a choice prior to any factor (infertility, family building when single, et al) and childless can mean that it is a loss of parenthood due to an extenuating factor.

Your thoughts on what these two words mean to you (as well as the article in general…)

Recently, I was speaking with an older woman who had never had children once she was diagnosed with infertility. She admitted that one of the side effects of living child-free after infertility was that she missed out on the strong female friendships that come hand-in-hand with motherhood.

And it was an interesting thought because I don’t necessarily feel close friendships with women due to motherhood (and I also thought, fan-fucking-tastic, yet another thing that I’m doing wrong in regards to things seemingly connected to my uterus). Beyond the fact that I had strong female friendships long before I even started tryign to conceive, my best friend is not yet a mother (nor is she currently trying). And I don’t feel very connected to the other random women on the playground who all seem to chat easily with one another while they push their kids on the swings. Perhaps it’s just because I have twins that my concentration is solely focused on the two children who are trying to run in opposite directions and I don’t have time to strike up a conversation about Huggies vs. Pampers. But I don’t think that’s quite the case either.

I do have many friends who are mothers just due to the simple fact that many women in their thirties are mothers. I often feel closest with those who have been through infertility and pursued a path similar to mine that resulted in a child whether it was through straightforward treatments, third-party reproduction, or adoption. I also feel close with mothers of twins, but, again, it is usually women who have twins due to fertility drugs more than women who have naturally-occurring multiples. BUT I also have many friends who don’t have children at all. Either because they’re still pursuing treatments or because they haven’t started trying.

At the end of the day, I think there is definitely a line drawn in the sand–and I say sand because I think it is something that is shifting and impermanent; something that sometimes seems to be washed away and then reappears again–between those with children and those who do not. And perhaps it becomes even stronger later in life when those who are going to have children have had children and it is clear who will not be directly parenting a child in this life time. But truly, is motherhood the key to strong female friendships? Or reaping the support of the community by consciously living child-free? What happens to the women who don’t align themselves with any community and choose instead to simply live life without looking back on the roads not taken? Is this woman correct–are the bonds of female friendship loosened to slack until they fall away completely?

Her story gave me a lot to think about. About how we go about forming friendships: whether we look for people similar to ourselves, whether it’s just random circumstance, whether it’s other factors: socio-economic similarities, education similarities, marital similarities. And what are my strongest friendships–and why.

* Warning about the article–the author is child-free after the stillbirth of her daughter. I wanted those who have lost a child to know this before being confronted with the information inside the article.

The same google search keeps showing up on my sitemeter: is IVF selfish? I wish there was a way to respond to those people directly–just send them a quick note to set the record straight.

An Open Note to People Who Search About the Selfishness of IVF:

Hey, my name is Melissa, and I just wanted to let you know that IVF isn’t selfish. Why? Um…because at the end of the day, you’re doing it entirely for another person. Yes, you get to be a parent, but being a parent can go in many different directions. You can become someone’s mother and they can grow up and move away and never speak to you again. Motherhood does not guarantee that a child is going to remain with you forever. So…yes, IVF isn’t selfish because the person who benefits the most is the child. Who is being born. Instead of being just another unfertilized egg or a school of sperm.

What? That’s not good enough? You think that it’s selfish to ask other people to help you while you put your body through hell so you can have this child? Do you think people who go through cancer are selfish? Or people who lose a limb in an accident? They go through a period of time when they need help. That’s the beauty of the human race–we can reach out to one another and ease each other’s journey by working together. And infertility is a disease that cannot be cured–it can only be treated. And while it may not be “life threatening” in the same way that cancer is life threatening, it is certainly life-style threatening. And it causes depression. And beyond all that, at a most basic level: it’s okay to need help. There, I said it. And the people who help you will in turn rely on you one day–they just don’t know it yet. But that’s what happens: things happen that you can’t predict. So take the help. And give it back later. It will all come full circle.

What? Are you kidding? You’re still not convinced? Well…IVF isn’t selfish because you’re not wasting money. You’re spending it to (1) treat a disease and (2) raise a child. It’s just that the cost of your child is sky-high before the child is even born. So just consider it an additional child-related expense. It’s the only way to rationalize it or you’ll go crazy thinking about the cost.

IVF isn’t selfish if your partner doesn’t want to try it and you do. It’s not selfish to want to be a mother (or, if you’re male, to be a father). And IVF isn’t selfish if you’re male and you want to do it, but your wife is drawing the line at needles. It isn’t selfish to want to be a father. And it isn’t selfish of her to want to try other routes to parenthood. You both need to be on the same page to get through IVF. Because it is hard. Emotionally and physically. But at the end of the day, it all goes back to your original question: selfishness. And none of these things are selfish–either doing IVF or choosing not to do IVF.

Listen, in a perfect world, you two would go into the bedroom and have some sex and be cuddling a newborn nine months later. But that’s not the way it’s going to go for you and it’s not the way it’s going for me. And you deal. Using some form of ART isn’t selfish–it’s just the path you have to take in order to get what everyone else gets easily.

At the end of the day, no one else is going to be able to convince you. I have a feeling that you know this. But you’re googling it because someone has scattered some seeds of self doubt in your mind. And that’s really crappy of them. And I’m sorry that you’re going through that. But IVF isn’t selfish. It’s actually one of (because there are a bunch of equally unselfish and highly wonderful paths you could take) the ultimate gifts a mother can give: life. And going through hell to give that life. That takes a bold woman. And a strong woman. And a kick-ass woman. Not a selfish woman. There are no selfish women in the infertility world.

So ignore anything that people are telling you and get yourself in the stirrups. You can head over to my side bar and read a bunch of write ups about IVF and how to give yourself a sub-cue or an IM injection. And stop searching the Web for proof to back-up an idiot’s words (choose the correct apology: (1) oh…the idiot was your husband? I’m sorry. All due respect. (2) oh…the idiot was your wife? I’m sorry. All due respect. (3) you’re the idiot who is questioning whether it is selfish? I’m sorry. Maybe go back to the top and read again?). You need to save your strength for the cycle.

Good luck!

Check back and let us know how it goes!

Love,
Mel

In lieu of the Friday Blog Roundup, I thought I’d look backwards for one week instead of current…

It’s fun to look back through my favourites folders in Internet Explorer and see what I thought was worth bookmarking for constant reference. I have a folder called “babies” and it reads as a guide to the journey of the infertile. The first few links are cute baby sites like Babycenter and 101 Early Signs of Pregnancy. The list continues into the slightly confused Basal Body Temperature (what factors can affect your BBT) and Trying to Conceive Success Stories. And then spirals down into a now-defunct list of infertility-friendly employers (new job would equal new insurance which would hopefully equal IVF coverage) and RESOLVE‘s website.

Tucked into the list are a few parenting blogs–those early journals that they posted on Babycenter. My favourite was Bringing Up Ben which became Bringing Up Ben and Birdy when her second child was born (and has since moved to blogspot). I liked her because she was the first blog I ever read and she was from Amherst near where I used to live.

I read them because I was always looking for the secret. What did they know that I didn’t know? How did they get pregnant so relatively easily? In the beginning, I really thought that there must be one piece to the puzzle that I didn’t know, that someone forgot to tell me. And I’d discover it if I asked the right questions. Reading blogs seemed like the this covert way to get the information. Access to someone’s diary. And weren’t they certain to record how they went about creating life?

And there was one I found during one of my frantic google searches (which were usually about early pregnancy symptoms). It was called Kate’s Oven and it was a young woman–I believe in Australia–trying to conceive. When I started reading her, she was pregnant and she was so excited that I became excited for her. I checked back every few days, watching her pregnancy progress and reading her entries about food aversions.

And then she lost the baby.

And I sat crying in my empty classroom during my grading period.

I was so sad for Kate and the little bun.

She wrote for a while after the miscarriage, but she finally closed down her blog and stopped writing about trying to conceive. I always wondered what happened to her. You read the intimate thoughts and details about another person’s life and they become so entangled in your own that you start talking about them with your husband as if you really know this person. And then you see the broken link to their old blog in your favourites folder and the thoughts pop up again like suddenly realizing what song comes next on a mix tape you haven’t heard in twelve years.

I want to know what happened to Kate. Did she go on to conceive again? Did she end up going through more losses? Did she choose a different path to parenthood or is she living child-free? Does she think about her pregnancy loss as much as I think about her pregnancy loss since I don’t know her through any other means except her loss?

Did anyone ever read Kate’s Oven? And who do you miss from the Blogosphere (or the bulletin boards)?

And who did you show up too late to read and you’re now kicking yourself for not starting sooner? On my list is Chez Miscarriage and Baby Hungry Man.

This post is dedicated to Cancer Baby who I was thinking about yesterday because she had a wonderful post last Thanksgiving about her husband and how he went without his beloved green bean casserole last year. And when she died this summer, all I could think about was how that was the last Thanksgiving they had spent together.

What is Thanksgiving without a requisite post about being thankful?

We’re told in grade school that the Pilgrims who arrived on the Mayflower had a crap winter. They arrived in December and by the end of the first year, almost half the original group had died. The ones who survived did so with the help of the Native Americans. The fall harvest was plentiful, and they sat down together–Pilgrims and Native Americans–for a giant feast to celebrate and offer thanks for getting through their first year on American soil.

At our Thanksgiving dinner, we go around the table and everyone says something for which they are thankful. And you have to be pretty much the coldest person in the world not to be able to state something for which you’re fortunate. I don’t need a holiday mandated by the American government in order to look at my life and know that even on my worst days, I’m still doing a hell of a lot better than a large swath of fellow Americans. I have many reasons to be thankful and it goes as basic as that I love everyone that I am eating dinner with this Thursday. And having that many people in your life that you love makes one drop down on their knees in gratitude.

But being thankful wasn’t really what I wanted to talk about.

Family holidays can suck when you’re infertile. You’re being told to focus on what you have, when what you don’t have keeps popping back into your head like a massive white elephant trundling through your mental rooms no matter how hard you try to leave it behind for the day. And you have to endure the questions. And you have to watch your relatives fawn over a sibling’s child. And at the same time, you’re beating yourself up because you are supposed to be feeling GRATEFUL damnit–and the best you can muster is that you feel grateful that your insurance covers three IUIs when there are poor Stirrup Queens out there who have to pay out-of-pocket for every damn insemination. And even when you’re happy and sitting around with people you love and savouring that slice of pie, there’s a piece of your heart that is missing. And it all just feels off. Because you are desperately missing someone who should be there.

I think I love the myth of Thanksgiving because it mirrors so much the infertile experience. The Pilgrims arrive in winter, dumbfounded to discover that life was not going to go as they thought. And they endured a lot. And they had to reach out to others for help when they thought they wouldn’t need to ask for help. And in the fall, they are just grateful because they made it to the other side. They’re not grateful because they conquered the world. Their accomplishment is simple–survival. But it’s so much more than that because of what they endured to reach that meal.

And I don’t see that meal as the time that you’re holding your child necessarily. I see that time as the moment when you make it through the cold winter and the hot summer and the loss and the heartache and the confusion and the doubt. And you’re on the other side. You’re at peace. And that peace can come at any point in the process. You may be living child-free or you’re starting the adoption process or you’re hand is on the swelling stomach of your surrogate or you’re bringing your child home from the hospital. And none of it was how you thought it would go. But you don’t hate the journey. You embrace it and thank the people who helped you get to the other side.

And in that perfect peace, you just feel grateful. You accomplished something that is, on one hand, so simple and on the other, this amazing feat. And in a journey marked by so much doubt and darkness, it is the moment when you can finally breathe. When you’re standing back in the light.

Enjoy the meal tomorrow even if you’re still toiling through the winter and summer. It’s okay to still be in those seasons because it’s all part of the journey that you need to go through in order to get to the fall. You don’t need to hurry through them to make a point or because anyone else is telling you that you should be grateful. You’ll get there when you’re ready.