Posts from — May 2009

A nice moment in this week.

Resolve was founded the same year I was born. 1974. This point is meaningful because my mother was the person who first told me about Resolve, having probably used support from them herself in the creation of me. I still have the email she sent on my wedding anniversary in 2002. I had been going crazy–I was taking my temperature back then and had clearly ovulated twenty-one days earlier but I wasn’t getting a positive pregnancy test. She suggested having blood drawn, changing doctors since my current one didn’t seem worried by the fact that I wasn’t getting pregnant. She passed along the url for Resolve’s website and suggested starting there with gathering information.

I started frequenting Resolve’s bulletin boards.

For the longest time, the women on the other end of the computer were my lifelines. I went to them seething with anger and they were somehow able to calm me, even though we didn’t know anything more than each other’s computer handles. I went to them with dozens of questions and they returned to me with dozens of answers. They literally sat with me while I gave myself my first injection and then celebrated with me afterward with messages of congratulations. I have lost touch with all of them but one who strangely enough, read and commented on my blog, not realizing that it was the same Mel from back on the boards.

Resolve has circled through my life numerous times since 2002. It began with their website and then with becoming a member and with their book and an RE recommended by one of their volunteers. I have returned to them for information or for comfort or for activism. They have been a constant, for me, in my journey. A space that I trust whenever I need to return.

A few weeks ago, Resolve wrote to tell me that they’d like to honour this site with a Hope Award. I know this is my site, but it really is also a community site–I always imagine it like my friend’s house in college. I mean, it was his parent’s house, but the basement was everyone’s. We all crashed there–sometimes even when he wasn’t home. Sometimes even when the rest of the family wasn’t home (is it creepy to admit that I still have their house key? I feel like I should mail it back, but it has been so many years, I feel like it would be creepier to get their key in the mail along with a “hey, haven’t seen your kid in fourteen years, but here’s your house key!”). This blog is very much about the blogroll, which is our space. I mean, I clean up the empty cups and plates you leave lying around, but it’s still our space. And I’m not bitching about your mess, though I wish sometimes you’d recycle your own beer bottles.

So this is our award.

I am eternally grateful to Resolve for their support. For this information and for fighting the good fight for infertile men and women in America. I am grateful for the recognition of our community, of the projects that have grown out of this space, for the support I receive from you–both emotionally and in reference to all of my half-baked ideas.

Thank you.

Do you need a drink? I need a drink right now, and not in the alcohol-relaxes-you sort of way. It’s not that I haven’t looked longingly at the bottle of vodka in the freezer when I’m opening the door to make dinner. But I mean it in a community-coming-together sort of way. The point of this Lushary in the first place.

Because remember back why we started it over two years ago? Almost two and half years ago by this point? That is a lot of imaginary alcohol.

“But the other side is what this blog has become for me–a cozy space where everyone is welcome (as long as they’re not making anyone else feel like crap–it’s okay to disagree; it’s not okay to be cruel). Where you can sit down after a crappy day and just cry. Where you can come running in and shout out good news (“no OHSS!”) and everyone will cheer along with you. Where you can ask your questions or give your opinion or admit to your fears or examine how you really feel about infertility. In other words, the freakin’ infertile Cheers of the Blogosphere.”

And so, I have opened the door a bit early this month so everyone can pull up a chair and take a deep breath and collect themselves and tell each other what has happened in our lives in the last few weeks. I, personally, have gone down to the river to think–it is where I think best and feel grounded.

So let’s pretend that the Lushary has an outdoor section, a small patio, and instead of being cramped inside, I am standing out here, by the river, still thinking, and pouring drinks. I apologize if you’ve sent me an email in the last few days and haven’t gotten a response. Hopefully, you won’t mind if I type back a few emails and work the shaker at the same time today.

What will you have?

As always, it has been a little under a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life and a compliment for another blogger. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

Some people reading this may become very confused if you’ve missed the comments and posts on various blogs this weekend. I apologize, but you can either skip this post if you have no clue what I’m talking about a few paragraphs in, or you can keep reading. It’s really up to you.

A while back, Tash had a thought on her blog that went: “the only people reading my blog for a while were those googling things like ‘cat liver problems’ and oddly getting plopped into my life.” Movies like Grand Canyon try to explore the ways in which we crash into each other, how we enter each other’s lives. And more importantly, why.

The Internet didn’t create the concept of crashing into each other; it only enlarged it. Now, without leaving my home, I can crash into people, hundreds an hour. Or they can crash into me. My blog is a sliver of my life, translated into words, and so if you read it, you are also connecting with a part of me.

I have often thought about what I write and how my words could affect someone Googling and finding me for the first time (or, anyone who reads me regularly for that matter). Sometimes I get the words right on the first try. Other times, I need to have someone tell me how they read my words to fully understand how they could help or hurt. And I have certainly thought long and hard before I’ve run full steam ahead with an idea, though it may seem as if I didn’t pause at all. An example came recently with the life coach who offered sessions in exchange for ad space. I turned over the sessions to someone in the community instead of using them because my right sidebar is my gleanable space. But I really sat with that decision a long time because I wondered what my responsibility would be. What if the person who took the sessions had a terrible time? What if it was emotionally damaging? It wasn’t–the person told me it was very helpful and I had a huge sigh of relief.

Crashing into one another brings with it responsibility. That responsibility needs to be kept in check–I can’t be everything for everyone–but it does need to be noted. It is a fine balance: I am upset when I hear that someone feels I didn’t respond as they wanted me to respond or that they felt slighted. At the same time, I am human and fallible and have limited amounts of time. So, it is a balance, though I am mindful of the responsibility even as I keep it in check. It is sort of like carrying water–it can be done, but only so much, and carried so far.

I was not going to write outside that post about the comments that unfolded on the emotional fraud on the Internet post but it has reached a point where I feel like even with keeping it from its own post, it has grown so large and spread so far that I’m not sure if anything is lost or gained by discussing it.

An anonymous comment was left on the post that asked a valid question. I answered it as best I could. She asked follow up questions and I answered them as well, and in doing so, found something that could help me do this better next time, if there was ever going to be a next time. And I state this to everyone considering asking the community to crash into each other’s lives: troubleshoot. I wish now that I had emailed every donater directly rather than posting on the LFCA and having Vee post on her blog. I assumed back in March that when no one stepped forward, that everyone had read it and was fine with it. I really wish now that I had sent out an email too and apologize to everyone who participated who didn’t see the change in plan or why the plan changed.

The comments lead to hurt feelings. People love Vee and Max intensely–they have both been blogging for a long time–and added their words in their defense. People love Kathy (the anonymous commenter who revealed herself on her blog) intensely–she donated her leftover embryos recently to another blogger who is currently pregnant–and added their words in her defense. And then, to bypass the trouble of any of the trainwreck sites from declaring my comment box on that post a trainwreck, I’ll just state it for them. It became a trainwreck that hurt many feelings. And for that, I am truly sorry–to Vee, Max, and Kathy–and to all who walked away feeling scorched from this.

Wiseguy–who is much wiser than wiseguyish–had a parable on her blog that really put into perspective for me why Niobe’s post that I wrote about for the post in mention affected me for so long. Because while I consider myself fairly circumspect and cautious on one hand, I also know that I embrace people without question the moment they figuratively knock on my email or blog door. I think you need to read the parable in order to understand why I felt the need to respond to this at all because it applies in two ways to this post. I’ll wait until you come back to say this next thought.

It is certainly scary to think about opening up your heart to another person and having them take advantage of your trust. It is equally scary to think about how we could ignore a person in need because we are so skeptical–so sure that everyone poses a possible threat that we see all people as an actual threat. Because that was certainly happening for me as I read Niobe’s post and considered the enormity of trust that needs to occur when forming relationships from afar and over a medium such as the computer. I haven’t been disappointed yet–I have made amazing friends and met wonderful people and have only had good experiences. And yet, perhaps because I had heard of how the horse had been deceitfully taken away (I told you to read the parable!), I started to think that all people were looking to get my steed even when no one had really asked for anything more than directions. I was starting to not trust anyone and that is not who I am.

And so, the only cure for me is to write it out and also take a step back to find my balance, breathe, and refocus.

I want to state a final apology to Vee, Max, and Kathy and to everyone who had their feelings hurt by this incident. I’m not sure the way forward except for everyone who read the post and what followed to take a step back, find balance, breathe, and refocus.

I considered closing the comments for this post, but I didn’t because doing so felt too much like sticking tape over a mouth. Or, at the very least, taping together your fingers. Therefore, I leave them open so you can speak your mind, though I’ve closed the comments on the post discussed. My one request is this: that before you type anything, you think about the grave responsibility we have when we crash into each other’s lives. I will delete any comments that involve name-calling, that fan the flames, or are pure vitrol. And, of course, in saying that, also admit that I am imperfect and may leave something up that you wish I had taken down or vice versa. But alas, I own that too.

A good rule of thumb would be to write a comment that reflects your own feelings rather than talking about another person.

I will also readily admit that I need to step back in order to get work accomplished. I lost too much time on Friday and I’m behind with a deadline. I also think it would be good for me to literally find my breathing space by stepping away from email for a day or two. So I apologize in advance if you email me directly to discuss this and I don’t email you back for a bit. Or email me about anything. Because I will not be online a lot and when I am, I will most likely be catching up with reading the Show & Tell posts.

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.

Next weekend marks a full year of Show and Tell. I am open to any suggestions on how to celebrate.

A week or two ago, Josh needed a new cell phone and I tagged along. My cell phone is a piece of crap. First of all, I allowed the Wolvog to choose it which was my first mistake. It hasn’t worked for months–most people who have tried to call me have either had it go to voice mail automatically (and I don’t receive a message waiting beep) or they get to hear the inside of my purse for fifteen minutes or so until the battery dies. Which is a nice sound because the purse is made of some crinkly rip-stop material so they’re treated to a whoosh whoosh whoosh, almost like being beneath my heart.

The store had a 2 for 1 deal going on, so we decided to take them up on it and get me a new phone. I do not know how to send a text message (and we have texting turned off on our service plan), but even better, it has email access! I can check email from the road. I mean, not as I’m driving, but as Josh is driving and I am sitting in the passanger seat. How cool is that? Technology is an amazing thing.

It is also a cheery red colour that I like and when you flip it open, it has a full key pad. I’ve only send a few emails from it because it’s sort of annoying to type with your thumbs. But to know that I have email access on the road somehow fills me with joy.

What are you showing today?

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

Lindsay was on the Metro tonight and saw this in the free newspaper they hand out on the Metro:

So, last night, after spending the day Googling things like “blogger font change” or “changes at blogger,” I used my laptop and realized that Blogger looked normal. My first thought was that I had a cookie or something on my computer preventing Blogger from updating (I know, rational). But I went back downstairs to try to figure out why Blogger’s font was suddenly enormous in one place and normal in the other.

And I realized that I had hit a shortcut key that enlarged the screen by zooming in.

Ctrl+0 fixed the issues with Blogger.

Except that I forgot to write that today. So for all the people who were riding the Metro and saw that, there is nothing wrong with Blogger. There is just something wrong with me.