Posts from — August 2011

This week.

There is a lot to unpack and not a lot of time to unpack it.  I’m finding it very difficult to gather my thoughts into words.  At the current moment, they are forming more into grunts and screeches than they are into rational sentences.

Instead of unpacking something real, I instead bring you my thoughts that came at 2 am on Wednesday night.  How would you feel if you found out unequivocally that mermaids were real and living in various bodies of water that you visit?  Would you be excited, hoping to see one?  Would you feel sort of anxious, wondering if you had unknowingly swam with them?  Would you be totally jealous, wishing you too could be a mermaid?

Sometimes I think we spend so much time wishing that fantasy was real, that we don’t really consider the outcome of having our fantasies coming true.  Or, I think that often we feel the outcome of wishes come true and yet still forget when we start chasing the next wish.  Sometimes what seems like it would be the most fantastic thing in the world turns out in reality to be a nightmare.  And other times, what we hoped would be fantastic delivers exactly as planned.

Substitute the word “mermaid” for a whole host of other things.

I was thinking about that at 2 am instead of thinking about other things, but regardless, I was wishing that my brain had an off-switch and I could just get to sleep.

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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:

• “Trying to Find the Positive” (Whitney and Erick)
• “Finding My Sight” (Not a Fertile Myrtle)
• “Balance” (Smartness)
• “Bile” (Sideshow Barb)
• “The Power of Our Love” (Dragondreamer’s Lair)
• “Unexpected Fallout” (Write Mind Open Heart)
• “XY with Several Chromosomal Abnormalities” (Fierce and Nerdy)
• “The Matrix” (Just Being)
• “Across the Universe” (Still Life with Circles) – read Esperenza’s comment

Okay, now my choices this week.

CD1 Again has a raw post about discovering her husband’s ex-wife is pregnant.  It is a tiny post that is a punch to the stomach, especially the timing of the announcement.  And I found that even after I left my comment, that I came back to read it again, as if I expected something else to be there.  A side note, it’s her birthday, so please be sure to wish her a happy birthday when you stop by.

The Kir Corner has a fantastic post about why she started blogging that resonated with me so absolutely. I love this: “I had no idea what I was doing.  I was not consumed with followers or page views.   I could barely hit publish.  My technique was poor and scattered, much like I was at the time.  Kir’s Corner was just a place I could set my troubles down on and leave them.”  I love her release of the label and the peace it brings.

Lastly, I am Vulnerable has a post about aging, a topic that is often on my mind.  I think it’s probably on many people’s mind in this community because infertility has a way of conjuring up mental hourglasses where the sand is dripping away at breakneck speed.  But this post is about what is lost and what is gained with aging.  And I have to admit that after I read it, I realized how much I didn’t miss aspects of those days that I’m nostalgic about.  Yes, I want parts of it, but you can’t take parts without taking the whole.

The roundup to the Roundup: How would you feel if you discovered mermaids were real?  Beyond that, 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 5th and August 12th) 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.

Important update for commenters at the bottom

I got the first email in the morning, asking me if I had seen the article.  I was off to the beach, certain by the keywords in the url that it was one of those stupid-ass stories that would make my blood boil, so I decided to not click over to read the article at the moment.  There would be time later to get myself good and angry.

I got the second email in the afternoon, asking me if I had seen the article.  But we were trying to think through dinner, and I wanted to get the kids fed before I read it.  Though I found it odd that two people sent me the same article.

And then the third email came and the fourth and I finally clicked over to discover that I had heard of the San Diego lawyer.  I sat down to read about how Theresa Erickson, otherwise known as the surrogacy lawyer, had pleaded guilty for her involvement in a baby selling ring.

And I wanted to throw up.

I had not expected to know the guilty party.  I recently did her radio show with Dina Roth Port and Barbara Collura from Resolve, and I’ve pointed people her way in the past when they had surrogacy questions.  I knew nothing about her actual work as a lawyer, but she was the only person I could think of beyond surrogates themselves who had any tie to surrogacy.  So I sent people her way when they asked me if I knew anyone who could answer their surrogacy questions.

Which is why I wanted to throw up.

It’s a small reproductive rights world.  I’m certain there are many of us that had the same sinking feeling when they read the names of the people in the article.  And frankly, I felt a bit shattered, beyond what I felt with something like April Rose.  Because Erickson was a very real person that I spoke with several times via email or on her radio show.  I trusted her because other major organizations seemed to trust her.  And why not — there was nothing that I could tell from our emails or the radio show that she would play into the very underbelly that people fear from reproductive sciences, setting back public perception on surrogacy yet again.

There are very real babies at the heart of this who will grow up to be very real adults who will have to contend with their feelings on how they came to be.  And there are very real parents at the heart of this, who built their families on Erickson’s lies.  And there are very real women who were used as surrogates without intended parents in mind; the babies they were producing meant to be sold.

Which is why I wanted to throw up.

There is a lot of trust one needs to have to engage in assisted family building.  There are so many people you need to trust along the way as well as trust the processes of building families in a non-traditional way.  And Erickson’s actions are so damaging because they don’t just affect the families involved.  They don’t just affect the surrogates or the babies or the parents.  Her actions affect public perception, they have created doubt, they have caused confusion in those of us who need to use assisted family building.

And I don’t know why, but I immediately started crying while writing this.  Because I am so fucking angry that I can’t build my family without assistance and because I need to depend on other people in order to form my family.  And I am so fucking angry that the majority of people in this world don’t have to navigate the ethical concerns that come with assisted family building.  They want a child, they have sex, and they raise said child.  And I am so fucking angry that I have to depend on others.

And I am so fucking angry because now I don’t fully trust even the people that this morning I trusted fully.  Just because she planted a small seed of doubt in my mind.  And I’m certain I will weed it out, that the trustworthy people in this world will tip the scales back.  But tonight, I’m just really sad for everyone who needs to reach out to others to build their families.  Because it pains me that anyone in the ALI community was taken advantage of by mere virtue of the fact that they need assistance.  And it makes me so fucking angry.

Update:

I was putting this in the comment section and then decided to move it up here to ensure that everyone saw it.  As I wrote literally days ago, I have a commenting policy on this site: “I’m all for disagreement, as long as it’s polite. I will remove any comments that I deem off-topic, rude, or mean-spirited.”  Anonymous started something that is walking a thin line.  What we know right now is that Theresa Erickson pleaded guilty, therefore, the next day in the court room will be for sentencing.  Without a trial for affected parties to voice their hurt, having their say online or offline within conversations is a way of keeping their voice.  My heart goes out to the people who have been directly affected, such as one commenter below.  My heart goes out to the people who used her services in other situations and now feel queasy.  My heart also goes out to those of us who were indirectly affected, which I’d counter is pretty much everyone in the ALI community.  I encourage those who feel passionately about Theresa Erickson to write their own blog post on the topic.  My comment section won’t be a place for fighting, but luckily there is plenty of space in the blogosphere for people to still voice their opinions elsewhere.

I would like to preface this by saying that despite the fact that I have been described as bitchy in the morning, there are plenty of times that I set my alarm and get out of bed at an ungodly hour and function.  I may not do it nicely, but I function.  For the most part.  As long as not too much is expected of me.

If I could, I would shift the world to start a little later.  People would get up around 10ish.  We’d have breakfast and head off to work or school around 11 am.  We’d get home, of course, a little later, which wouldn’t matter because we’d be up until 2 or 3 am.

I do my best work late at night.  In graduate school, I wouldn’t even begin writing until 9 or 10 pm, and then I would stay up through the night working and sleep when it started to get light out.  I liked being awake while the rest of the world was asleep.  I’m aware that if we shifted the whole world timewise, that people would be awake at the same time as me.  But I rarely work through the night now.  My request to shift the world is more a desire to not have to wake up so early.

I am somewhat jealous of people who leap out of bed, fully-functional, at 6 am.  Even if they go to bed early, my perception is that they get more done during the day.

Are you a morning person or a night person?  And do you wish you were the opposite?

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I’ve always wondered if when you comfortably wake up determines your overall mood.  If you’re awake for more hours of the day, it would follow that you’d also intake more sunlight.  And that has to affect your mood.

I wouldn’t describe myself as a happy person even though I am technically often happy.  I would probably label myself more a hue of blue than sunny yellow.  Is it because if given the option, I wouldn’t be awake to take advantage of the sunlight?  Is my body less capable of using sunlight in that way, and is that why I’m programmed to be awake late into the night and lazy in the morning?

So now matching it with whether you are a morning person or a night person, go a step further and answer whether you would describe yourself as a melancholy blue person or a sunny, yellow person*.

* I’m talking in broad brushstrokes.  Overall, I think most people who have met me have seen me happy.  But I think my overall state leans towards the quieter, bluer hues.

I Lost a World threw a fantastic post onto the Prompt-ly list for discussion, especially in light of the fact that we all often have to swallow hard in order to dive into the comment section of some of the larger sites (cough… New York Times… cough cough… HuffPo) when they write about infertility. (That is, unless you enjoy having strangers tell you to stop whining and just adopt!)

Anil Dash’s take is that if the comment section is full of assholes, it’s the fault of the online publication. He points out that everywhere else in life, we have guidelines to help humans act like… humans. But for some reason, we throw out all of those ideals when it comes to the online world. He writes: “If you run a website, you need to follow these steps. If you don’t, you’re making the web, and the world, a worse place. And it’s your fault. Put another way, take some goddamn responsibility for what you unleash on the world.”

Er… by the way, YOU write a website if you write a blog. So you best pay attention.

I both agree and disagree with Dash. I think a lot of his advice is spot-on. Monitor your comments. Delete the ones that are simply hurtful. Respond to questions. The larger the site, the more monitors you need.

You should have a commenting guideline. Do you have one on your “about me” page? You might want to write up something simple if you allow for comments. Mine says:

I’m all for disagreement, as long as it’s polite. I will remove any comments that I deem off-topic, rude, or mean-spirited. If you return to my blog and see your comment gone (really, why are you coming back to check on your comment?), that should probably be your clue that I thought your comment was off-topic, rude, or mean-spirited. Rather than write another comment that is off-topic, rude, or mean-spirited that I will also remove, please simply click away from my blog. This space is not for everyone even though I try to be as inclusive as possible.

For the record, beyond spam, I have had to remove very few comments. But I don’t leave up hurtful words — especially about another blogger — for the sake of authenticity any more than I would leave up swastikas if someone spray painted them on my shul just for the sake of keeping it real.

Dash is against anonymous commenting (I actually can think of many places where it is necessary within the health blogging world) and pro letting the community help with the policing of comments in being able to flag them.

The level of responsibility is the big place where we part ways. I don’t think it is 100% the responsibility of the blog or website owner. I think it’s more of a 98% responsibility, leaving a healthy 2% wiggle room to account for imperfections in the creation of online communities as well as limitations of technology and differences in what we deem allowable.  There are going to be comments sometimes that don’t offend me but offend someone else, and since I can’t see all words through everyone else’s eyes, it would be impossible to keep a 100% inoffensive site.

Also, Dash pulls from the idea that we can keep order in the face-to-face world.  But the difference with the face-to-face world and physical communities vs. online communities is that we can see who we are dealing with, so Dash’s point doesn’t completely translate. It is easier to block a person from attending an event than block someone from leaving a comment since there are more loopholes around filters than there are gmail accounts in the world.

Though to return to the swastika analogy, I would be cranky with my shul and stop attending if they told me that they weren’t going to remove the symbol from the walls of the shul after someone sprayed it on — either because they didn’t have the time or they thought it was wrong to take down someone else’s form of self-expression. Yet we’re not equally appalled by blogs (especially big sites such as the New York Times) that leave up hateful comments; in fact, we sometimes applaud a site for the authenticity of it, for giving people the opportunity for free speech. Unlike spray painting swastikas, no property is destroyed, but I think there is emotional carnage in both hateful words and hateful symbols.

Within online sites, where does free speech end and hateful commenting begin? Where is that line? And do you agree that the blog (or site) owner is 100% responsible for the content that appears anywhere on their sites — from their posts to their comments?   Can you still support the New York Times as a whole if they allow for hateful words to be left in their comment section?

I wrote the bulk of this post on the floor of an airport, and now I’m finishing it up back at home on very little sleep.  The rational part of me is whispering that I just might want to wait to post until I’ve sat on it for a bit.  The sleepy part of me is telling me to just post it already so I can move down my to-do list and get back into bed.

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Every time I see Eden I end up crying. There is something about that woman that can bring people to catharsis. Someone should bottle her and sell her to therapists.

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Wait. I should back up.

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I had a hard time leaving for the conference this year, as many suspected from my morose posts preceding the conference. It was a combination of not being emotionally in a good space to be that far away from home coupled with a somewhat chaotic exit complete with a tech fail and the ChickieNob crying as Josh put her in grandma’s car with this look of terror on her sobbing face. I had this mantra running through my head: I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this. Which is bizarre because I have traveled the world. I have traveled alone. I have gone to BlogHer 4 times. But I think we all know that our heart doesn’t always listen to the facts our rational brain spits out.

Feeling lost was a theme for the weekend, and I want to preface this by saying it was me — not the conference.

*******

As I got on the plane, the couple sharing the row with me leaned forward as I dropped my bag onto my seat.

“Oh, thank G-d. We were so worried you’d be someone who’s 500 pounds, but you’re so little.”

I just stared at them without saying anything until they looked supremely uncomfortable. Then I sat down and cried through most of the flight because I missed Josh and the kids.

So really, you’d rather have a very mucous-y crier than someone within a certain weight? Poor choice, I think, poor choice. I didn’t even want to be around me.

*******

I spent the first night feeling very alone. I took a small walk and thought I saw Briar. Relieved that I had finally bumped into someone I knew, I threw my arms around her. And as I pulled away, I realized that it wasn’t Briar at all. It looked like Briar if someone had taken Briar’s face and melted it a bit.

Before I could give my embarrassed apology, the woman beamed and said, “I know you! You’re Melissa Ford! It’s true what people say about you being very friendly!”  I didn’t have the heart to tell her my mistake.

And her words made me feel supremely self-conscious because, internally, I saw myself as anything but friendly. I saw myself as someone who wanted to hide away in her hotel room and stress-read Harry Potter rather than get lost in the conference; that thing I had flown across America to be at.

I seriously didn’t know what was wrong with me.

*******

Pathfinder Day was such a great day. I had a wonderful time with Carleen and Colleen and 40 or so people talking about books. I love to talk about publishing. I connected with so many people that day and took so many business cards, which translates into new blogs to read. I left it feeling full.

And then it was over, and I wandered aimlessly all night. I sat near the bar and cried into my telephone to Josh. The people at the next table over stared at me, but no one said anything. It was like when you hear someone got food poisoning and you’re eating at the same event. No one wanted to come near my bummer-of-a-time in case they caught a case of my emotional vomiting too.

*******

Cali talked me down to breakfast, but when I reached the hall, I knew I was in the wrong space for me. It was the right space for so many people at the conference, but I felt like the place I was supposed to be was home. Someone commented that they had never seen me so sad.

I can’t stress enough that it wasn’t the conference itself. BlogHer in and of itself was lovely.  The panels were well curated.  The food was so thoughtful (vegan options AND gluten-free options?). At its core, the conference was the same as it had always been, but it was as if someone was playing a lilting Mozart concerto and we were all enjoying it, and then someone else started playing the Beastie Boys next to it. And I’m sorry, but few in our generation are going to listen to the concerto when they can dance their ass off to the Hot Sauce Committee.

Competing with the actual conference were private events scheduled during the panels. Which meant the panels were sometimes semi-empty (or at least it felt that way when you knew that there were 3600 people at the event), with the exception being the ones talking about brands and pitching companies. The classical topic of the conference — writing — was being edged out by the rock and roll of monetization.

I know there were those of us who were there because we love blogging, and the blogging we love is synonymous with writing. That it is a writing form just as novel writing or journalism or poetry is a writing form. But it was hard to find one another. And it felt very lonely to be thinking about writing, to be caring about community, to be talking about the blogosphrere, when right next to you the majority of people are talking about how they need to leave the conference to attend a private event. As much as I love classical music, it’s hard to listen to it when everyone around you is grooving to hip hop. It makes what you love look awfully boring. Like work. Like unpaid, unappreciated work.

And who really wanted to stand there awkwardly admitting they want to do unpaid, unappreciated work when the people around them are going to glittery events and walking away with iPads to boot?

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But I want to do unpaid, unappreciated work.

Well, the unpaid part.

I’d like to be a little appreciated. Or at least have my words resonate with someone.  I’m willing to work for comments.

*******

My entire experience could have been changed if I had just changed my outlook.  If I had agreed to go to the parties or the private events.  But I was so entrenched on remembering BlogHer’s past, where I was able to just connect one-on-one with someone over a quiet meal or grab a few people together to get dessert.  I remembered years past where we spent the bulk of our time during the day in the various panels or keynotes.  I wouldn’t have been lonely if I had just thrown my hands in the air and said, “fuck it, I will go to that brand’s little champagne party with you.”  So I own it; my mood was entirely on me.  And yet I couldn’t seem to shake it.  To get over myself and have a good time, because it sure as hell seemed as if everyone else was having a good time.

*******

What turned it around for me was the Voices of the Year keynote. I took a seat smack in the front so I could videotape Cecily. I was so proud of her for getting up there and reading, and I wanted to cheer her on because she has always had my back.

I also knew Eden was reading, but I didn’t know what it would be about. She started her presentation with a picture of Max, and I suddenly knew exactly which piece it would be. And it was like someone had punched me straight in the chest, finally giving me the jolt that brought me back into my community. She was telling this room of people about one of our own; about one of the first bloggers I ever read. My children still sleep with the stuffed koalas Vee and Max sent them (though Barbie co-opted the mini Australian flag). She was talking about his art, and my mind was on the piece they sent us before he died to fill our blank wall.

After Eden was done reading, I emailed Vee. And that is why I blog. Because it makes the world smaller. Because I met two people across the world via our words and struck up a friendship because of our shared interest in writing and art. In expressing ourselves. Eden read a piece that is essentially about the connections forged by blogging, and in that moment, hearing about one of our own, and being in a room with people I read and care deeply about, and being able to email a woman halfway across the world to bring her into the moment; this moving moment about her husband…

That is what blogging is to me.

That is why I do it. I don’t do it to make money or get free iPads or meet celebrities. I do the unpaid, sometimes unappreciated work for the human connection. Because without it, we wander around aimlessly, lonely even though we’re in a sea of 3600 people.

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Afterwards, I met up with Magpie. We talked about the strangeness that is a blogging conference. It sort of has the same emotional feel as a high school reunion, where you’re seeing these people you sort of know, at least you know some aspect about them, but you realize at the same time that there is so much that you also don’t know. That there is a whole life beyond the sliver you know and you want to figure it out. And you’re so happy to see them. Some of them mean a great deal to you, even if you’ve never told them that.

As I stood there, I reminded myself that not one post in the community keynote had been a sponsored review or an ode to a brand. Those posts may exist, but they’re not celebrated.

She said, “I go to BlogHer to see my tribe.”

And that is when you realize the brands and private parties and holier than thou attitudes are just noise. They’re not music. People think they’re music because they see people dancing, but if you actually listen closely, you’ll notice that it doesn’t have a beat. How can it when it has no heart?

Humans have hearts — not brands.

You can with bummed out by the brands and barrage of product reviews, thinking that it’s the new permanent state of the blogosphere. Or you can choose to ignore it and go out to dinner with friends, eating quesadillas at a lovely little outdoor bar by the harbour. You can just be thankful that you get to be in that moment, having that experience. And you can realize that as long as those moments exist, blogging will also be about writing and community. And, like Magpie says, you’ll find your tribe.

*******

I am glad I stayed. I had considered changing my ticket on Friday morning and leaving as soon as possible. I am so glad that I stayed. It would have been terrible to miss the community keynote and leave with this very skewed image of the state of things.

I spent most of Saturday with Eden, and it was divine. She is so funny and honest and introspective. Being with her is like drinking water. She is like perfect temperature water.

I left San Diego the exact inverse of how I arrived. I walked through the hotel beaming. I went through security with a huge smile plastered across my face. I am glad that I went and stayed, but moreso, in the moment, I was just glad to be going home to Josh and the twins.

I got to the airport early for my flight and sat on the floor typing this on a mobile device. Because that is what blogging is about. It is about recording a moment, acknowledging our thoughts and the state of things, of shooting into the atmosphere an enormous, indelible sign proclaiming: I was here. I exist. I have ideas and opinions. I am part of this huge, crazy thing we call life.

And I have to do it. I have to do it badly enough that it can’t wait until I’m in front of a proper computer. I need to type this enormous post on a mobile device and save it until I can upload it once I’m back into the land of wifi.

It’s my fucking music.

*******

That was BlogHer for me this year.  I have shaken whatever mood I arrived with and left feeling energized again about the state of blogging, about the need to connect with community, about the love I feel for all of you, on the other side of the computer, reading my words and letting me know and sharing your own.  Thank you for sticking around while I mentally muddled through that.