What says “award ceremony” more than flavoured vodka? And what livens up a voting session more than a little invisible cocktail? It is time to vote for your favourites for the first ALIes (adoption/loss/infertility awards). And it’s time to pull up a bar seat and let us know what has been happening in your life in between sips of a non-existent French martini. Before you cast your ballot, stick around and fill everyone in on your life. Winners will be announced two days from now on the Friday Blog Roundup. Which means that three days from now, the tabloid newspapers will be writing about your escapades with the B-list celebrities. You know, the ones we’re keeping under the bar.

So before you get sucked away from the site into voting…

As always, it has been a bit more than 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 NaComLeavMo…which is now called 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 a cocktail and tell us what is up with your life and then come back up to the body of this post and scroll back to this space. Go ahead, let us know what’s up. Voting will wait for you.

Without further ado, the voting.

Polldaddy only allowed me to have 10 questions in a poll. Therefore, I have added the final question on the ballot below. Vote for the Celebrity of the Year:

This is the ninth installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

Today I had my embryo transfer for my first IVF cycle, after 6 years of TTC, several years of alternative treatments like acupuncture and herbs, 8 prior assisted cycles including 6 IUI’s, 1 miscarriage. Normally I am very good about refraining from urine pregnancy tests and waiting for the blood test results. This cycle, though, my husband and I will be travelling during the week when I was scheduled to have my blood test. Because of the difficulty of finding a lab to do the blood test in our destinations, the RE decided to postpone the blood test until I get back, almost a week after I was originally scheduled for the test.

My question: Should I do a urine test on my own, or wait for the blood test?

Pros of testing myself:
-During my one pregnancy which led to miscarriage, each day that I was pregnant was among the happiest of my life. I wouldn’t want to miss out on any joy that may be coming to me, especially after the hundreds of days of non-joy over the past 6 years.
-If the urine test is positive but then I miscarriage by the time of the blood test, it might be good to know about the miscarriage for diagnostic purposes and the next IVF cycle.
-2WW becomes 3WW! I am patient, but there are limits.

The big con:
-Our week and a half of travel involves visits to multiple family members including staying in their houses. No family members know anything at all about TTC, IF, etc. We do not plan to announce a pregnancy, if there is one, for at least a couple of months, due to a combination of miscarriage concern and weird family dynamics. If the test is negative, I would have a hard time concealing my disappointment and/or making up an excuse about why I am so upset. If the test is positive, neither my husband nor I have a good enough poker face to hide our excitement. We don’t want anyone to know anything at this point, but I’m not sure if I would be able to keep positive or negative test results a secret.

I know that you and most of the rest of the IF world are far less secretive than I am, but we definitely want to stay in the IF closet. That said, if you were in my situation would you test or wait?

–Anonymous

There are going to be people who write in the comment section to wait and they will also have good reasons. And therefore, I’ll start this off by saying that you should read through everyone’s thoughts and then weigh each one, choosing the one where you have no argument to make inside your head to the contrary. My advice is going to be to test.

Unless you are the type who can truly compartmentalize, you will still be experiencing emotions over infertility and the cycle regardless of the outcome. Sometimes, the waiting is the worst part. No one wants to go into a cycle thinking that it won’t work, but it sounds like you have looked ahead and know what happens next, therefore, though a negative will sting like the dickens, you do have a goal of picking yourself back up and giving yourself emotional Benadryl even if you don’t necessarily know how you will reach that goal from this vantage point. I think having that in your pocket, knowing you will get there even if it is simply a matter of putting foot over foot for the next few weeks, is a huge source of strength. By which I mean that you should notice your own internal strength that you can plan for the future, accept multiple possibilities, and have the sense to think ahead. Those facts alone point to a person who has internal fortitude.

Why test–for the very reason you state as a pro in your question. I believe wholeheartedly that we should grab happiness where we can. Some would rather not know about a chemical pregnancy, and in some cases I agree that ignorance is bliss. But in most, I believe when you are going to be unhappy anyway, to grab the five minutes of happiness passed your way. To turn it down gains nothing–it doesn’t lessen the unhappiness on the other end. If the cycle doesn’t work, you are going to be sad. If the cycle does work and it turns out to be a chemical pregnancy, you are going to be sad. If the pregnancy continues for a bit, whether or not you tested will have no impact on how you feel later on with whether you reach term or not because new information will be added to that emotional path. So, in terms of immediate reaction, I would take 5 minutes of happiness and 71 hours and 55 minutes of unhappiness over 72 hours of unhappiness. But that is just me. Some feel that the sadness on the other end is even worse when you swing down from great heights. But, in my world, sadness is sadness and the shade of it doesn’t really matter.

There are plenty of non-conception reasons you might be sad or anxious or in a bad mood and needing space. Problems at work, a fight with a friend, debating a career change. You may not be able to hide the feelings, but you may be able to explain them away.

And if it is positive and you’re giddy, there are excuses galore you can use. You can pretend you received a call from a friend who is pregnant which allows you to gush about “her” pregnancy (and later gives you the opening: “remember how I told you about my friend that day…”). It could be something good happening at work or just that you’re in a sunny mood in general.

I hope that is what happens on your trip–that you’re too happy and people get suspicious that something good is happening.

In Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert closes off the first section–Eat–with an explanation for why she took four months out of her life to only seek happiness. She explains: “But I felt a glimmer of happiness when I started studying Italian, and when you see the faint potentiality for happiness after such dark times you must grab onto the ankles of that happiness and not let go until it drags you face-first out of the dirt–this is not selfishness, but obligation. You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight.”

I read into your question that you want to feel okay with testing. That you want someone to tell you that it will be okay if you test–that you will get through the day regardless of whether you are circling the bottom of despair or bubbling over with happiness. You will get through the day. It may n
ot be perfect. It may be messy and emotional and full of excuses–but I don’t think that a day where you don’t test will look that much different. Infertility doesn’t simply hang out, sipping a cappuccino while you navigate a visit and wait to test. Those emotions–those fears and hope and excitement and anxiety–are there anyway. At least test and see what you are facing.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely. I would love people to add to my argument, but I’d also love to hear the opposite side: why she shouldn’t test.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

We’re still Showing and Telling below. The list is always open through Tuesday, so keep checking back on the list or add your own entry.

Deathstar wrote on Pamela Jeanne’s blog a week or two ago something that I’ve been tossing about in my head for a bit:

“Cancer can kill you, infertility just makes you wish you were dead.”

Cancer often comes up as a debate with infertility. It’s a strange connection since one disease is life-threatening and the other disease is life-style threatening. One does not trump the other in my head–I don’t see a huge advantage to being alive if you wish you were dead–though I can see the problems with the comparison. You can live with infertility without treating it. The same cannot be said for most cancers.

There is so much cancer floating through the infertility blogosphere at the moment, this idea seems to be at the front of my mind.

Infertility bears a stronger comparison to deafness. Deaf culture is filled with slang terms utilized by insiders, etiquette rules, and fine art. Deafness, in and of itself, can be experienced as both a detriment and loss as well as a gain (and frankly, while I wish I weren’t infertile, think of how much I wouldn’t have life-lesson-wise and friendship-wise without infertility). One can live with deafness without working around it–it is certainly not life-threatening. But it is life-style threatening if a person doesn’t find a means to communicate.

And there is controversy within the community too–those who opt for cochlear implants, those who don’t. Those who choose to lip read and speak, those who don’t. There is both hierarchy and leveled community at the same time–shades of deafness (and who hasn’t wondered if they’re “infertile enough” to be called infertile even with a diagnosis in hand) and also the common bond of deafness trumping the hierarchy of deafness.

I’ve spent a decent amount of time at Gallaudet–the only deaf college in America. My cousin went to graduate school there and even after she graduated, I kept going back because it’s a space I like to visit. It made me wonder if there could ever be an emotional equivalent. OB and midwife practices that are solely for those pregnant after infertility (Gallaudet, at least back when my cousin was there, had a rule that all undergraduates had to have some hearing loss). Child-free amusement parks (it looks like Disney World, it smells like Disney World but you don’t have to stare at the sleeping baby that inevitably ends up in front of you while you’re waiting in line). Is there a need for a collective space like that? Is our collective space the fertility clinic or the adoption seminar? The Resolve meeting?

It’s an interesting thing–need vs. want. Does Deaf culture need its own university? I would say yes. Does ALI (adoption, loss, infertility) need its own space and can we agree that ALI has its own culture–it’s own internal slang, etiquette rules, expression in fine art: elements of culture?

Welcome back to Show and Tell. 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. In fact, we hope you do go back to your blog and post your own Show and Tell item and then return with the link to your post. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.

Let’s begin.

I think Josh has reached the end of his rope with Smith Island. You probably have as well. But isn’t this space delicious? And not in a crab-eating-if-you-don’t-keep-kosher sort of delicious. I mean emotionally delicious? Doesn’t it look as if there are great stories buried amongst the reeds?

Pretty house

This is the cake! I’m tried to recreate it today (see below). This is the slice we ate on the island: The layers were so moist–each are individually baked rather than dividing a whole cake. The icing is a cooked fudge icing that hardens a bit upon cooling–much like a chocolate-glazed donut.

A portrait taken by the Wolvog on the boat ride away from the island. Yes, we are complete fools allowing our three-year-old to work our expensive digital camera. I am sure we will have regrets one day.

Oh, and I made the cake today. It was supposed to take about 45 minutes. It took me over 4 hours. But it came out fantastic in the end. We ate it for breakfast. As you can see, there are 8 layers inside, each a little under a centimeter in thickness. The icing is like liquid fudge. It is the consistency of chocolate caramel. There is a layer of it between each layer.

What are you showing today?

Want to bring something to Show and Tell?

• If you would like to join circle time and show something to the class, simply post each Sunday (or earlier in the weekend or on Monday if you can’t do Sunday), hopefully including a picture if possible, and telling us about your item. It can be anything–a photo from a trip, a picture of the dress you bought this week, a random image from an old yearbook showing a person you miss. It doesn’t need to contain a picture if you can’t get a picture–you can simply tell a story about a single item.
• Label your post “Show and Tell” each week and then come back here and add the permalink in the comments section below (make sure you don’t just comment that you participated: add a link to your blog in your comment so people can click over). I post a new Show and Tell post every Saturday night or Sunday. I usually move people up into the body of the post every few hours.
• Oh, and then the point is that you click through all of your classmates and see what they are showing this week.
• If you want it…I’ve now placed a Show and Tell archive on the sidebar that will be updated each week in case you miss it. And click here for the icon code if you wish to have it for your blog. It links to the archives.

Io’s dream was funny/coincidental/fortuitous because as she was writing about her dream, I was thinking about it on this tiny, remote island in the Chesapeake Bay. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to this space. I certainly have nothing in common with the inhabitants–crab fisherman and Methodist wives. I couldn’t eat on the island, the main draw for making the trek out from Crisfield (which doesn’t make a lot of sense to me since Crisfield is also on the water).

I’ve been drawn to Smith Island for different reasons at different times. When I was in elementary school, it was interesting because it seemed impossibly far away. Back then, you couldn’t really go to the island. During high school, there was an article in the Washington Post about the closing of the school in Tylerton. There just weren’t enough children to keep it open and the island was in crisis–begging for teachers. I cut out the article and kept it; an idea? Back in high school, it seemed entirely possible that I would just pick up and move to this random island for a few years.

During college, I was drawn to the unique dialect. Cut off from mainland, the island developed their own terms and kept the Elizabethan accent and cadence. After graduate school, it fit my mood. Quiet melancholy. I thought of it like the Americana version of Minguley. Before Minguley emptied.

And now.

I think I am drawn to it because it is an almost childless community. An interesting space for someone infertile. I think the number we heard during our walk around the island was 11. 11 children on the island. No belly bumps. No maternity stores. No strollers parked outside restaurants or babies at the next table. It is–emotionally–the perfect space to think.

Io’s dream is something I’ve always wanted to do and it’s funny because she’s not the first person who has written to me about having that dream. Serenity had one a year or two ago where she crawled into my house through an open window and I made her bread. Maybe the seed was planted then? But I would love to have an oceanside retreat, a space where people who are hurting from infertility–hurting emotionally–could come and think and be in a space where people are willing to unconditionally listen. To sit with you even if they can’t do anything to actually fix the problem. A space to go to during a wait–any wait; adoption, infertility–and get some breathing room. When I first described this idea to Josh about two years ago, I called it a farm. But being at Smith Island made me think that water was perhaps a better medium for this. The lull of waves. The huge expanse in front of you.

And now, cake is also the interest with Smith Island. There was an article in the New York Times about the cake a few months ago. It is the last great hope–the item that will help this community economically. A large portion of the island lives under the poverty line and the cake is the way to bring extra money in with crabbing limits in place. The article ends with this thought: “All the women just about make cakes. The women will pull together and try to save the island.”

And damn, I love a good story about women pulling together and saving the day.

I am attempting and documenting making the cake this weekend (which apparently has British roots and started as a 4 layer cake and grew with competition). I’ll let you know how it goes and which recipe I used. Look for pictures of Smith Island tomorrow in Show & Tell.