Posts from — April 2011

I’m going out on a limb here and making the assumption that we’re not the only couple who has made family building decisions based on our lack of insurance coverage.  If we were only considering the money it takes to bring a child from birth to adulthood, we have the means to bring a few more kids into the world.

But we’re not talking about the money it costs to bring a child from birth to adulthood.  We’re talking about spending several thousand dollars each month for the chance to have a child.  In other words, it would be like plopping down $10,000 for a car, having the salesperson beam at you as he takes your money and says, “no car today, but try again soon!” and have you leave the lot empty-handed.  I mean, literally empty-handed.  No car and no $10,000.

Makes you throw up a little, right?

I’m in a mandated state but we’ve managed to always have insurance that finds the loopholes.  The first time through treatments, I approached treatments without regard to the cost.  By which I mean that I fretted over the cost and made myself sick over the cost, but like a gambler unable to leave the craps table, I kept entering the game again and again.

I started out the second round of treatments with much the same mentality.  Let’s just do what we need to do and spend what we need to spend to get through this.  And then the recession hit.  And then it was unclear whether we’d have jobs tomorrow much less a house and food on the table.  Like most Americans, we lived in this precarious state for many months wondering what would happen next.  And not knowing what would happen next suddenly made the money decisions loom large.

At one point, we needed to decide whether we’d spend our savings on a cycle — yes, on a single cycle — and part of me wanted to take the gamble.  But when Josh asked me how I’d feel if the cycle didn’t work, I replied that I would want to kill myself for making life hard for the twins for the sake of providing a sibling.  And there we had our answer.  Because it makes me nauseated just to think about it.  I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t hit the jackpot and that money was gone.  And with it, opportunities for the twins.

Would our decision have been different if we had insurance coverage — absolutely.  I think I have the mental and physical fortitude to do a few more cycles.  But it’s the financial side impacting the emotional side that terrifies me.  I don’t want to end up hating myself.

So we’re in limbo.  We haven’t stopped and we haven’t started.

We talk so much about the emotional side of infertility and we certainly bitch about the physical side of infertility, but we rarely touch on the hard questions that pop up in the financial realm of infertility.  Our kids will one day know that we paid a lot of money to have them (even if we don’t yank out the receipts, they’ll know at some point how much fertility treatments cost and be able to do the math) — will this make them feel special in the future?  Will they feel like they owe us something?  Will they be ashamed that their parents paid a lot when they know their friend’s parents simply coughed up a co-pay?  I hope they never feel indebted.  If they had to feel anything, I’d want them to understand how much we wanted them in our lives that we were willing to do anything physically (and pay any price) to get there.

It’s hard to talk about money; for some reason, it’s harder and feels more impolite than speaking about my vagina.  I’m glad Lori and Cassandra raised these questions in their blog carnival.

What are your thoughts?  Has the financial side of infertility ever impacted the emotional side of infertility?  Have you made decisions about family building based on money (and how you’d feel about said money if the cycle didn’t work)?

Visit Write Mind Open Heart for more perspectives on the Dollars and $ense of Family Building and to add your own link to the blog hop, should you want to contribute your thoughts.

P.S. Rather than provide my answers in a Q and A format, I wove the questions into my post.  Click over to read the full list of questions.  You’ll easily be able to see the ones I answered.

P.P.S. I wrote this before I went to the theater, therefore, the story of whether I got the autograph/picture/used my time differently will need to wait.  I’m here, I’m around, but I wrote this post earlier in the weekend so I could take a few days simply to catch up on my Google Reader rather than write.

Just to drive home the point that I read People magazine and pretty much only People magazine lately, I clipped out the Chatter section that contained Amanda Seyfried’s thoughts on Twitter.  It is, you should know, her biggest pet peeve.  More than people protesting at funerals or people who drive twenty miles below the speed limit with their coat belt dangling outside their car door or people who use up the last of the sugar and then don’t put it on the shopping list therefore screwing up your baking plans.

Seyfried says,

Twitter drives me mad.  It’s just to be nosy.  For an actor, I don’t think it’s a good idea for an audience to know you too well.

I’m not going to point out to Seyfried how easily avoidable her pet peeve is (I mean, all she needs to do is not go on Twitter and she can apparently live a stress-free life sans her major annoyance), but I do think she raises an interesting point.

Part of being an actor — or really, any type of performer — is to make the viewer believe you are the character.  The audience shouldn’t be distracted from the performance by thinking about how you’re just pretending and reciting lines.

So does Twitter do that?  Does interacting with an actor online change the way you view their performance?  Do you see the seams, so to speak?  You may know information about an actor’s personal life from a magazine article, but everything other than a direct pipeline of personal thoughts (a la Twitter) or direct interaction (such as meeting the performer or speaking to them via email) is pretty much two dimensional.

I certainly feel that way with actors I know (as in, we see each other socially in the face-to-face world).  It’s hard for me to watch them on stage or screen and not see that they’re acting.

I have to admit that I stopped following a musician’s Twitter feed because I thought — based on his song lyrics — that he was a smart guy.  The punctuation errors and spelling errors in his Twitter feed made me uncomfortable — first and foremost, reminding me unpleasantly of an ex-boyfriend, but secondly, changing the way I was listening to his music.  It’s not mutually exclusive — you can have a brilliant mind and be a terrible speller.  But it bothered me enough to stop following him so I could enjoy the music without having the musician ruin the false image I had mentally created for him.

At the same time, meeting or interacting with a performer (or writer) often makes me more interested in their work.  Being able to ask a question via email or Twitter can make the difference between whether I listen to their music or watch their film or read their book OR whether I walk on by.  Shaking the President’s hand pretty much ensured that I’ll get involved with his campaign for re-election.  Get a book signed and I’ll pretty much read the next two or three books the writer puts out regardless of whether I speak to them again.

Why does the autograph have that power?  The simple signing of a name (or an email, or the ability to @ them on a tweet), can make all the difference in whether I’m engaged or not.  So how can it be both a good thing and bad thing — destroying the 4th wall that needs to exist between the performer and the audience AND the element that ensures that the audience returns?

In the same way that taking a photograph of someone you don’t really know has the same power?  I am more likely to go back and see the Sklar Brothers again because of that picture.

I have the opportunity today to get the autograph of someone whose work I really admire.  It would mean waiting around after an event and perhaps missing out on doing something more fun with that time beyond milling about for a half hour in order to gain 30 seconds of connection. 

What do you think I should do?  Wait for the autograph?  Stand there somewhat creepily and snap a picture silently?  Or simply walk on by, still enjoying the art and not having the connection? But being okay with that because those sort of moments are Amanda Seyfried’s pet peeve.

Seriously?  They needed a study in order to prove that if we had insurance coverage, we would actually elect to do single embryo transfers?  Did they actually think infertile women (and men) WANT to transfer multiple embryos and deal with those risks?  It didn’t occur to them that perhaps we make those choices because we’re paying out the nose for each cycle?  No?  Not obvious?

We’ve all been writing about this for years.  It seriously pains me that this is news.  But now that it is, for the love, give us insurance coverage because it will save money for all on the back-end.  NPR says so.

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I am very much in love with post-it notes.  I always have a couple of pads around the house to jot down ideas or random things I’m trying to remember or construct to-do lists.  The ChickieNob recently asked me for her own pack of post-it notes because she had terribly important work that needed to get done.  I acquiesced, laying down a bunch of ground rules as to where post-it notes could be left after finding them lining the upstairs hallway.

She recently turned her play kitchen into her home office.

I was going to write something snarky about her terribly important work and then thought better of it when I looked down at the inane commentary I’ve  scribbled on the post-it notes on my desk.  Touche.

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I shaved my legs for the first time this week since the beginning of winter.  Which means that, yes, I did go to that fancy winter wedding in a long ball gown with hairy legs.  And no one was the wiser.

I actually not only hate to shave my legs, but I actually like how it looks au natural.  Shaving my legs is the one thing I do for public appearance.  I don’t wear make-up, I don’t dye my hair, but I’ll shave my legs to blend in with the majority.  I don’t really have a reason for why I choose to do this.  It defies reason why I care.  Yet I do.  So out comes the razor when the weather gets warmer.

Where do you stand on the shaving leg front?

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Remember how I’m offering one NaBloPoMo prompt in the Roundup to entice you to one day commit to doing NaBloPoMo?  It’s a chance to test in a comment if you have the brain power to do a full month of NaBloPoMo.

So try your hand at a single prompt each week and if you can think of an answer, perhaps consider doing the entire month at some point.

ComOnNaPro (Comment on NaBloPoMo Prompt): What three words do you hope other people use to describe you?

You can either answer this in a comment, or if you’re moved to do so, answer it in a post on your blog and then come back here and let me know the permalink to the post.

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And now, the blogs…

Things get If’fy has a post about questions you can’t answer.  It’s a wisp of a post — it travels from one if to another (if she answers this way, if Linnea fell different…).  But it’s powerful in its quietness.

Three Little Birds has a beautiful post about sex and missing her husband.  I’m not sure why I found this so touching, but I did.  It’s one of those posts that I sat thinking about for a long time, wondering why I was so moved by it.  And unable to come up with the words, I instead send it out there so you can be moved by it too.

Tippy and Tidy’s Tumultuous Trip to Toddlers has a post about hanging out with her sisters in the city.  These trips recharge her because “…besides the good food, drink and dressing up, it’s also great to be reminded that there are a lot of women out there near my age who aren’t mom’s yet and that’s… ok!”  It’s an excellent reminder that this reality exists — even if the reality that surrounds you is otherwise.

Lastly, Delayed in DINKville has a post about opening up to friends and family about their infertility.  She explains all the times when she didn’t tell others what they were going through and what became the tipping point where she sent a letter that she held onto as a draft for months.  She writes, “I’m so glad that we sent it. Sending the e-mail felt liberating.  It felt like the right time to finally “out” ourselves.  I felt like I got rid of a huge weight I had been carrying around.”  The post, of course, is an excellent reminder that NIAW is right around the corner beginning on the 24th.  And I loved reading the aftermath from sending the letter.

The roundup to the Roundup: the whole family is now overusing post-its.  Shaved my legs — how about you?  ComOnNaPro.  And lots of great posts to read.

I have to admit that I avoided this show based on the title: Pregnant in Heels.  I imagined a cute little thing with an enormous belly bump running to her fantabulous job and moaning about how she couldn’t have a cosmo. (Why yes, I do judge books by their cover as well!)  So I was a little surprised when I read this about the first episode.

Now that Pregnant in Heels has premiered on Bravo, it is now known that I am not in fact a fertile Myrtle, despite having a career built on all things conception and baby-related! … I decided that the part of my personal life I was willing to put on TV was perhaps as intimate as one can get – the story of my fertility or, I should say, lack thereof!  I am sure I am going to take some heat (again with the silly sayings) for this but let me explain my decision:   I think fertility issues are an incredibly tough thing to talk about, especially when you’re in the thick of it, yet so many people experience it at some level or know people that have.

Obviously go read the whole blog post about the show.

It reminded me once again how we never know the story below the surface.  That she could have been a cute little thing running around with that belly bump, but that outside view doesn’t tell me anything about what happened to get to that moment.  Just as we don’t know the story of any random person we pass on the street.

So Pregnant in Heels wasn’t a cute-y cute television show about the best way to dye icing pink for mini baby shower cupcakes (okay, maybe it had a little of that).  Instead, the host reveals fertility treatments — warts and all — and I’m the one who missed out due to my small-mindedness.

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I recently found out that there is a member of the ALI community in this video by Nada Surf.  She comes in around minute 1:07.  Let’s play a little game called “Guess That Blogger.”

So who do you think it is?

A. Calliope from Creating Motherhood

B. Serenity from Serenity Now

C. Julie from A Little Pregnant

D. Allison from Our Own Creation

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I pulled a muscle in (under?) my boob this week.  I wanted the Wolvog to try the fireman’s pole at the park.  He asked me to do it first to show him.  I said yes and started climbing, trying not to think about how much I didn’t want to go down the fireman’s pole.  I got to the top of the jungle gym, wrapped my legs around the pole, and started lowering myself.  A few feet from the ground, I felt something pull in my chest.  I dropped down, clutching my breast and mouthing across the park to Josh, “I pulled a muscle in my boob!” while trying not to look like a perv, holding my chest in the middle of the playground.  The hazards of park play.

Please, I still can’t even talk about the time I tried to do a penny drop to entertain my niece, pretty much stuck the landing but ended up so dizzy from flipping upside down that I had to lie down on the ground to keep myself from vomiting.

I’m too old.

Welcome to the second concert on the blog. Get your lighters ready because here we go…

[For those who are new: Concert on the Blog Series is a weekly post highlighting a musical, theater, film, or comedy performance. It’s also a chance for viewers to communicate with the artists via the comment section on the post. In other words, it’s free publicity for artists and it’s free enjoyment for viewers — a win-win for all participants. Please click here to find out how you can have your performance featured.]

Melissa the Emcee: A long time ago, this musician below gave me the excellent advice of standing on my head when I couldn’t make a decision; when it wasn’t clear what I should do or when I simply couldn’t see a solution at all.  His point was that standing on my head would literally change the way I saw my space (upside down) but it would also force me to get to an answer quickly lest all the blood leave my extremities and pool in my brain. (Does that actually happen?  I guess not since my blood isn’t currently residing solely in my ass when I’m sitting.)

Rather than stand on my head, which is currently an impossibility with my lack of balance, I can lie on the sofa, turn on Eric Oberthaler’s music, and find space to dream.  I liken his music to an instrumental lava lamp.  Like a free dive into sound.

Others describe the piece “Underglow” as “a dangling lure, an opening, a maw leading into the realm of form gone transparent” and “a smooth ride down a strange lane.”

Part 3 of the three-part “Underglow” (“…at that threshold where structure just begins to dissolve and metamorphose”).

[audio:https://www.stirrup-queens.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/eO-Underglow-03-Underglow-Three.mp3]

More about the musician: EO’s compositions have wound their way from the main stage at TED 2009 to the Boom, Bali Arts, and Burning Man Festivals.  He lives in the Berkeley hills, imagining what the “orchestra of the future” might sound like.  Other work includes ArcheDream for Humankind’s UV-Light Dance-Theater, Sweet Can Productions’ intimate circuses, Gamelan X’s world fusion chaostrophe, and Brass Menazeri’s Balkan Brass frenzy, among other delights.

For those in love with the music (and please let him know in the comment section below), you can find them in many places on the Web:

• Website: http://www.soundsliketree.com/.
• To purchase music: http://eomusic.bandcamp.com/.
• Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/eomusic.
• Twitter: http://twitter.com/xoeo.

Now go mill about the lawn (fine, the comment section), hanging out with your fellow concert goers and chat about what you just heard and saw.