Posts from — June 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.

Warning, a NICU picture below…

I am still pouring drinks at the Virtual Lushary, but now it’s time for a little showing and telling.

My big project this summer is making scrapbooks for the twins. I have things written down in a multitude of places and thousands of pictures, but I’ve never taken the time to put it all together in a book and I want them to have the stories and milestone dates from the first five years of their life. My goal is to complete them before their 5th birthday. I have one book for stories and pictures of the two of them together and then the ChickieNob and Wolvog both have their own.

Please indulge some photos/memories this summer as I find them.

I had forgotten about this picture until I found it on an old disc. I am stroking the ChickieNob’s head. I think she was under the bili lights, hence the eerie lighting. Josh took the picture. I look so young, so concerned, so unsure.

In my journal I wrote about their early birth, “It would be like planning a wedding for August and then being thrust into the experience in July. It’s not that you wouldn’t be happy to be married (and being married is obviously the point of the wedding), but you’d feel cheated out of the end of the wedding planning experience. I still had a lot of dreaming to do before they arrived, and I was really sad that I wouldn’t get to feel them inside me anymore even if I was also excited to see them.”

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.

What is that pool of yellow you just stepped over to get to the bar? That? It’s just a puddle of urine. I literally peed myself because I’m going to be speaking in the Community Keynote at BlogHer.

I’m not allowed to tell you what I submitted, but I’ll give you a hint. It has to do with infertility, my wonky ovaries, or my clot-happy blood. Or maybe all three.

The urine is both from excitement (my cousins had a dog that you couldn’t pet when you first entered the house because if you did, it would go crazy with excitement and pee on the carpet. I’m sort of like that dog) and nervousness. I am not the best public speaker. I have a tendency, like that dog, to pee on the carpet. I mean…get anxious in front of large crowds.

So if you’re coming to BlogHer, you’ll know why I’m wearing water-resistant dark slacks on Friday.

Actually, are you coming to BlogHer? I know Briar will be there because she is leading a panel. And I think Aurelia will be there and Alexa. Who else? Who am I missing? Can we all make a list of ALI bloggers so we know who will be there and make some sort of plan to meet up for lunch on the first day? If you will be there, leave a note in the comment section (whether you are a blog writer or a blog reader) or send me an email and I’ll put a plan in place so we can all meet up (please include your blog url if you write one so I can link to it in the list). We were somewhat successful last summer and had a great dinner/dessert one night. This time, we’ll plan it earlier and close to the hotel so a lot of people can plan to come.

Wait, back to the bar. Please make sure you sidestep the urine and let me know what you’ll have.

As always, it has been about 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. 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.

Warning: contains movie background more than movie spoilers…

It started with an emailed warning: Pixar’s new movie, Up, contains a scene that depicts either pregnancy loss or infertility. It continued with posts–both embracing Disney for sensitively portraying the inability to build a family and condemning Disney for introducing yet another topic that parents don’t wish to cover with their kids. Finally, I went to see it for myself.

And I sobbed.

Perhaps I cried because I had my period when I walked into the theater. Or I may have cried because I was anxious in knowing that my emotional buttons were going to be pushed. I was on edge through the short film that came before the main feature that showed how babies are created on clouds. But I think I cried because Pixar did such a fantastic job with the topic and it touched me so deeply, especially when you can’t help but project your own life onto the screen and lay it over Carl and Ellie’s.

The topic is tackled both in the first few minutes of the movie and then subtly throughout, in such a way that adults will pick up on the hidden messages whereas children will most likely gloss over the fact that the couple is childless. And since reading all the blog posts about it, it seems as if many have missed the fact that infertility is covered throughout–much like infertility or loss which is not neatly contained in the moment, but affects the way you see the world from that point on.

Carl and Ellie, childhood sweethearts, promise to go on adventures with one another when they’re older. After getting married, they start dreaming of their life together as they are lying together on a blanket outside, and their music-scored dreams include visions of babies.

They are shown painting a nursery and preparing for a baby and then for a brief moment, we see them in a doctor’s office, with Ellie crying into her hands and her husband rubbing her shoulders while they both face the doctor. Afterwards, we see Ellie sitting outside, her eyes closed and she projects a deep sadness that still has me crying as I write this.

Because who hasn’t sat still with the diagnosis, after all the tears are gone, and felt like there was no movement in the eye of the storm? In a film about movement–aptly named Up–she is sitting motionless. And finally, they begin moving again, planning out a life of adventure that never quite takes place as they planned, but like all the unplanned moments in life, is even better than Carl could see as it happened. It took, once again, a moment of not moving; of sitting still in a chair, to see how much adventure and happiness and joie de vivre he had in his life with Ellie–even if it wasn’t how they hoped.

Infertility keeps playing out later in the film when Carl encounters a little boy whose father doesn’t appreciate his child. It’s interesting that the people up in arms mention the opening montage, because this is the part of the movie where I thought the infertility dynamic came more into play. Who hasn’t felt bitterness in seeing a parent obviously not parenting their child when you are unable to build your family? And in the end, it comes back to a truism that anyone child-free after infertility knows quite well: there is the family you are raised with and the family you choose; and while all are familiar with fictive kin in the form of brothers or sisters, we also may form fictive kin with children.

It is easy to tell when his past is informing his present because the character literally stops moving. After the diagnosis, Ellie sits still in the chair. After he hears about how the boy’s father isn’t parenting him, Carl stops walking. When he is remembering Ellie and the life they thought they’d have, he sits. It is easy to see how often infertility subtly plays out in the film if you count the number of times the characters pause from movement, a very clever way of showing the stagnation of infertility or loss in a movie that is entirely about directional movement.

Like Punch Drunk, I disagree with the commenters on that post who think that loss or infertility has no place in a Pixar film. As DD states: “Who knew having a miscarriage was so…offensive? So…disgusting and ugly and ironically, so child- and family-UNfriendly, whereas (spoiler alert) the old man falling to his death from his dirigible after his failed attempt to cut the old hero in two with a sword was perfectly sanitary.”

Personally, I’m thankful that Pixar finally gave my children a vision of a family grappling with infertility. Our losses took place before the twins arrived, and while they know why we light a candle in the house on October 15th each year, I don’t think they understand that we’re not the only people who had trouble building our family. Unlike parental death in Finding Nemo or the idea that there are people out there who want to hurt you (in every Disney film), this was presented in such a way that families in the know will appreciate the ability to use it as a jumping board for discussion and those who have thankfully had no trouble with family building will miss this point entirely.

What was your take on Pixar’s Up?

Cross-posted with BlogHer

It seems eerie now, in retrospect, that I wrote about emotional fraud on the Internet about one month ago in response to Niobe’s earlier post on the same topic. Who was to know that one month later, almost to the day, I would receive an email from a concerned blogger asking if I had heard about this website disproving the existence of Little April Rose. She didn’t know what to think, unable to wrap her mind around the idea that someone would use the death of a child to garner attention.

Beccah Beushausen said that she started the blog to process a prior loss and “to express her strong anti-abortion views.” And I wonder, in a week where we are still reeling from the death of Dr. Tiller, when murder, lying, and emotional manipulation became a proper way to spread a message.

I didn’t know the site beyond the badges I’ve seen on people’s sidebars and a blurb someone placed back in April in the LFCA. Anti-abortion bloggers and I don’t really mix. But it still makes me feel ill even if I hadn’t been taken for a ride. My heart goes to the very real people, like my friend, Kathy, who have lived through a very real loss especially those who knew before the birth that their child was gravely ill and you ache for what they must be thinking this moment.

Many people have come out with statements about Rebeccah Beushausen, both condemning her for her actions and offering sympathy in the face of someone who is unwell. But my statements are for the men and women who have lived through the loss of a child. My heart is with them tonight. For the men and women who have held their child, either knowing prior to the birth or afterward that they would have to say goodbye. For everyone who appears in the loss room, for all the people I inadvertently missed.

My advice, for anyone who is upset by the April Rose manipulation, visit one of the blogs in the loss room–the stillbirth/neonatal death/infant death blogs are towards the bottom–and leave them kind words of support. You can either curse the darkness brought on by Beccah Beushausen or you can light your way out of it by embracing the members of community who are hurting right now from this.

Show and Tell. I was able to read every post and comment so far and it had an added side benefit. I usually start pulling together the Friday Blog Roundup on Thursday night, currently prime blog reading time, so now I can come for the Show and Tell post but stay for the incredibly moving post below it written about an upcoming appointment and get two things for the price of one click. I listened to the class member and I rounded out the Roundup. See, added benefits to the move. And I Kirtsy’d one of the Show and Tell posts this week. When I read them on the weekend, I wouldn’t remember them for the LFCA during the week, but here I could just open up the post and pop it in there. See, change can be good. And the list is still open. Which means that if you have missed out on the fun up until this point, it is not too late to write your own post and show something to the figurative class. And if you can’t get your act together today, there is always next week or the next week or the one after that. Show and Tell will always be held on Wednesday to Friday from this point on. The thing I love about Show and Tell–and the whole basis for starting it a year ago–was that sometimes you have something that you just want to hold up and show everyone, but you feel strange making a whole blog post about it. But here is this built-in space for that random sign you saw or the purse you bought or the song you heard on the radio that reminds you of this story. Just like you stood in front of your kindergarten class holding a random Barbie and saying, “this is doctor Barbie and she’s a doctor,” come stand in front of your figurative class and show us a random thing since you have our rapt attention. And if you want to participate and can’t get to a computer during the day, send me a link to your post and I will upload it to Mr. Linky for you. See, no one needs to miss out by the move.

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I wanted to upload some more of the pictures from lunch last weekend. Not as exciting as pens and breasts, but still, some lovely pictures of Katie’s purse.

Our Family Beginnings, telling a story

The Happy Hours and B, listening

Body Diaries by Lucy, Sell Crazy Someplace Else, and The Happy Hours

Chez Perky, A Little Sweetness telling a story, and my new cousin, Hoping for Another Lovebug

A Little Sweetness and Hoping for Another Lovebug

B

Our Family Beginnings, Chez Perky, and A Little Sweetness

The purse is made out of seat belts. Seat belts! What will people think of next. I think if I owned that purse, I would never stop touching it because it felt so smooth and nice. Can you imagine the photo journal you’re going to get from BlogHer this summer now that I have my new, fun camera? It’s going to be candid blogger photos 24/7, bay-bee (I mean, after I’ve asked if I could take the picture because I’m all anal like that).

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Remember my obsession with Smith Island? Oh, it’s still there. We’re going on holiday with another couple soon, which is totally going to be a Vampire Shabbos (as opposed to a werewolf seder) complete with Buffy episodes. I am trying to sell them on coming with us to Smith Island for the day. It is brilliant fun to have a four-year-old drive you around the island in a golf cart. But my new obsession is Sapelo Island in Georgia. I got sucked into a “news” story on Yahoo that had great islands in the US and saw a picture similar to this. Beyond the sheer beauty of the place, two things drew me towards it. (1) You cannot visit the island unless you live there or are part of an organized tour. I love places that are difficult to visit and fussy. (2) There is no school on the island. Which sounds like the anti-me. I mean, I loved school so much that I became a teacher just so I wouldn’t have to leave the warm bosom of the classroom. But I love the rhythm to a school-less day. I have been waiting months for summer vacation and have big plans on spending it on trips to the farm and swimming and car dealerships (the Wolvog likes to sit in the cars and pretend to drive). We’re going to go to Harpers Ferry and have playdates and take wrong turns to see where they go. I know they go to school on Sapelo Island; the school there closed in 1978 and they head off every day to the mainland. But there must be days that they can’t go to the mainland, where they get an extra home day or two. It’s my new goal. Sapelo Island or bust.

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The Weekly What If: What if you were given an all-expenses-paid trip for a month to the place of your choice (imagine going to Fiji on someone else’s dime for a whole month!) but the drawback would be that on the last night, they get to break your arm. They’ll take you immediately to the hospital to have it properly set, but you know…you’ll have to endure a broken arm. Would you do it? And could you ever think well of that place again after having your arm broken there?

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More thank yous for people who have up the Navigating the Land of If badge on their blog. I know I must have missed people again, but that’s the good part about rolling thank yous; I will catch them the next time.

A View on My Life
Baby, Interrupted
Beyond the Palemother
Building Heavenly Bridges
Eggs Benedict Arnold
Eye Heart Internet
Fertile Hope
Happy-Go-Lucky
Helping Make Sense
Here We Go Again
Hydrangeas are Pretty
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Pampers
Little Pieces of My Life
Not the Path I Chose
Our Own Creation
Parenthood for Me
Portraits in Sepia
Secrets of an Infertile Mom
Slaying, Blogging, Whatever
Somewhat Ordinary
Sunny in Seattle
The Hairy Farmer Family
The Jauss Haus
Trying for a Baby
Working on It

What? You want the code too because you’d love to help me spread the word about the book? Well, you can get it right here.

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And now, the blogs… An Unwanted Path has a post about wishing for impossible things. It is about the unused spaces in her house and contains this gorgeous line: “there are people out there envious of all this free space… but I can’t stand it. It’s so empty.” I love this post because it literally aches. There is still hope inside of it–she knows she will become a mother one day–but you feel as if the rooms are literally surrounding you as you read the post, visually facing the effects of someone’s infertility. It is a really beautiful post. Bottoms Off and On the Table has a post about how she views a statement now that she is on the other side. She mentions a comment on a bulletin board written by an IVF vet and how when she first read it, she felt guilt and then pity. And now, life has changed her understanding of the words. She states: “I understand how it feels to transition from infertility that is treatable to infertility that may be terminal.” I found her words incredibly moving.

MLO Knitting has a post about how infertility cuts ties and how we need connections too. I think for me, the brilliance of this post comes with the juxtaposition of the cancer diagnosis with the infertility diagnosis: “Cancer has made me want to see my friends more – even as my energy has waned. Stupid painkillers make me drowsy while screwing up my internal clock. Infertility just made me want to curl up in a ball and not have to talk to anybody. Getting ovarian cancer that led to a hysterectomy has just made me mad, sad, and needing to reach out.” Please go read the post in full. Lastly, My Pathway to Motherhood has a post on sensitivity. Not just insensitivity or the things we do and say without thinking about how the receiver is processing the moment and not just the sensitivity that can come from being rubbed raw by loss and passing cycles. From a series of unconnected moments, all tied together by the making of gingerbread men, she states with deep honesty: “And maybe this post is about me not believing I will ever be a mother.” Your heart breaks, maybe due to your own sensitivity to those words, from the contrast of the sweetness of the cookies to the bitterness of the acts. Gorgeous writing and thoughts.

Four posts, all a little sad this week. It’s not that the funny posts didn’t make me laugh, but all four of these made me think deeply and stuck with me for a long time. It’s strange when it works out that they’re all the same note rather than a few funny, a few angry, a few sad. Maybe what I needed to read found me. The roundup to the Roundup: Join in Show and Tell on its new day. More pictures from TOOTPU. Sapelo Island rocks! Answer the Weekly What If. Many thank yous for the book badge. And lots of great posts to read. Hope you have a wonderful start to the weekend.