I am trucking through that last chapter right now, so I’m getting myself set up to work on the next chapter over the weekend. So I have another question. And truly, what is cooler than going into a bookstore and pulling a book off the shelf and turning to the person in the aisle next to you and saying, “check out my thoughts–p. 36.” So, yet again, gathering your thoughts so we can have more than my view in this book.

As always, two things: (1) you can either email me a response directly or you can leave it in the comments section below. You can also grab this question as a topic for a post on your own blog, write a long response, and then email me the url for the post. (2) in either case, if you have not been interviewed in the past by me or participated in one of these before, provide a pseudonym that I can use for the quote (aim for semi-common such as Jane, Alicia, Tamara over descriptive such as Uterus-of-Doom-Lady). And include a way to get in touch with you–email address, blog url, etc–in case I have a follow-up question.

So, the topic I’m posing today is telling people that you’re infertile, doing treatments, using donor gametes, using surrogacy or adopting.

Though this question may seem pretty heterocentric and marriage-focused, what I’m actually talking about is not after the fact, when you are pregnant or parenting and it is obvious that you must have done something to get there, but instead, that time period that every infertile person–single or married, gay or straight, young or old–experiences where you know that you’re pursing parenthood and are needing assistance, but no one else technically needs to know or it can be hidden.

Some people go through treatments privately, without revealing to any friends or family members what they are experiencing. Others choose to tell a select few and still others tell everyone about their E2 levels, including the random woman buying Doritos in line behind them at the supermarket.

There are also people we weigh and decided to not tell and other people who are told despite the fact that we are trying to keep the journey private. Everyone has personal, unique reason for why they do or don’t tell.

If you have told anyone, how did you broach the conversation? Did you wait for an opening or create it yourself (and if you created it, how)? Do you tell more than one person at a time or do you like to find private moments where you can talk about it one-on-one? Do you prefer to tell people in a written medium–email, letter–or face-to-face? Why did you tell them and how did they react? Were you disappointed or grateful, and did the telling make a difference in your life the day after and the day after that (in other words, did the telling do anything to change your daily existence either positively or negatively)?

Lots of questions, but at the core is a desire to hear about one or two (or ten or twelve) unique experiences you have had about discussing infertility (or adoption) with friends and family members. You may notice that pregnancy loss is not on this list. This is not to snub pregnancy loss but because the question was already asked specifically in the pregnancy loss interviews for that chapter and because I’ll be revisiting it in a future question session on its own.

By the way, for the future, each time I do one of these, the post will be titled: Your Pseudonym in Ink. And I’m still pouring drinks at the Virtual Lushary. Just pausing long enough to ask these questions.

This is the problem with avatars. My picture is this bright orange, smiley rendition of myself in Microsoft Paint. Which works well when things are good. Saying happy birthday, celebrating after a positive beta, congratulating someone on clear tubes after an HSG–all good uses for my avatar. But when the post is serious, when you are trying to give support as the shit goes down, it is a little disconcerting to have that bright, smiley picture in deep contrast with the words.

It’s interesting to look down the comments on any given post and judge the appropriateness of avatar to words. There are belly shot avatars there to console someone after a pregnancy loss. Or a picture of a dog used as an avatar that is left on a post discussing the loss of a pet. It’s a little strange, nu, when you stop and think about it? Of course, the same avatar is the perfect avatar for a different situation. Like my own.

I thought about replacing my orange picture with a neutral head shot. Straight mouth revealing neither happiness nor sympathy. But then I thought about how a happy face is like a stopped watch, correct two times a day if not more. A monotonous face is rarely appropriate unless you’re answering a question like “do you take cream or sugar?” So I scrapped that idea.

Changing avatars based on the comment I leave would tack a few minutes onto leaving each comment, ensuring that I leave fewer and fewer. I’m not even positive that’s possible to do. And I considered going a different route–something that worked in all cases–a star or a leaf–something that conveys no emotions. But how would it look if we were all inanimate objects? And there is something about the human face–even in cartoon–that creates the voice. That makes you imagine the very real person who is saying these words to you. Because, on the other end, we are all very real people.

So I am back at square one, with a orange, happy avatar, sometimes leaving comments on very sad posts and feeling this discordance between the frozen look on my cartoon face and the heartfelt nature of the words. Tell me what you think as I pour you a drink.

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, 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.

Martini shaker in hand and a midori sour for myself on the bar. Who else is drinking today?

Well, the closest thus far is Luna, who guessed the two correct ones and then changed her vote! I guess it’s true what those SAT tutors always said–go with your first choice.

So here is how the four truths and two lies played out:

1. Prior to starting graduate school, I auditioned for the Real World on MTV and made it to the final round of cuts. It was between me and Montana and they took Montana. I ended up in Massachusetts anyway for graduate school.

This is one of the lies and a great one at that–Josh made it up. I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone worse for the Real World. Though I did end up in Massachusetts for graduate school while the Real World was being filmed in Boston.

2. Whenever there are decorative rocks anywhere, I make Josh steal one for me. I’ll never do it myself, but I always beg him to do my bidding.

This is true. I don’t know if there’s more that needs to be said about my thievery.

3. I used to cut high school to hang out at other people’s high schools. I sat in on my friend’s French class for the whole year and sometimes even took their tests for the hell of it.

This is true. Isn’t that sad? I cut school to hang out at…school. It’s funny that so many people thought this was false. But I cut a lot of school–usually the afternoon classes–and I did sit through French class at my friend’s school.

4. I was in navy ROTC my freshman year of college but I dropped out after one year.

This was another one of the lies and Josh came up with this one too. I would be terrible in any of the armed forces. I have a great deal of respect for the navy and anyone who serves because I’m certainly not up to the task.

5. I was once upgraded to business class when I had an anxiety attack on an airplane–this was after taking an Ativan.

This is a true story and I wrote a letter to British Air about it afterwards because the steward was so fantastic. But we were seated in the back of the plane and before the plane took off, I had an all-out panic attack where I couldn’t breathe. I was so certain that if I sat in the back of the plane I would die. As I was sobbing and moaning (I couldn’t even get words out. I just kept moaning), the steward knelt beside me and stroked my hand, saying in this fantastic British accent, “tell me about it, my dear. Let it out, let it out. Tell me your fears.”

The crew finally decided to move me to business class in order to get me away from my fellow patrons in the back who needed me gone. Josh decided to knock me out with a second Ativan. And he enjoyed business class seating while I alternated between unconscious and crying for the duration of the flight.

Good times.

6. I once had a private audience with the Pope.

This, believe it or not, is true. I read somewhere that anyone can request a private audience with the Pope (I’m not sure if this is still happening or not, but it was in the 90s). I was headed over for a month in Italy and decided to write and request an audience. I didn’t hear anything back and forgot about it until I was pulling out of the driveway to go to the airport and decided to check the mail. Lo and behold, a note from the Vatican with directions on what to do beforehand.

We had to go to the Vatican the day before to pick up tickets and speak with the Swiss guards about protocol. When we got there, I realized that I didn’t know enough Italian to explain why we were there so I kept saying, “biglietti, Pope.”

The next day we returned to the Vatican for the Mass. There were maybe 100 people there. Most of the service was performed by others and Pope John Paul II sat on the stage. During his portion of the service, he spoke in 5 different languages, though it was difficult to understand him even when he spoke in English. It was towards the end of his life and the Parkinson’s was pretty advanced. Truly, the only word I understood clearly was “jubilee.”

All in all, I have to tell you as a Jewish girl that it was pretty emotional to be in that service and get to take part in that Mass (sans Communion since I’m not Catholic. I sat out that portion of the service as did a few others). I love getting to participate in other people’s rituals and culture and it was a huge honour to have my first full church service be with the Pope. Other cool services I have attended were a Gaelic Mass in Ireland and Meeting in a 19th century Quaker meetinghouse.

So those are my truths and lies. What are yours?

Feh–your name in lights is overrated. And theater work means leaving your cozy living room and doing your hair and all sorts of personal hygiene things that don’t impact participating in a book. I’m just saying. As my deadline for the manuscript ticks ever closer, expect more of these questions.

Read this: Two things: (1) you can either email me a response directly or you can leave it in the comments section below. You can also grab this question as a topic for a post on your own blog, write a long response, and then email me the url for the post. (2) in either case, if you have not been interviewed in the past by me or participated in one of these before, provide a pseudonym that I can use for the quote (aim for semi-common such as Jane, Alicia, Tamara over descriptive such as Uterus-of-Doom-Lady). And include a way to get in touch with you–email address, blog url, etc–in case I have a follow-up question.

So, the topic I’m posing today is the criteria you used for making the choices you’ve made so far on your journey.

Let’s say that there are four main paths out of infertility: treatments (and this is anything used to treat the problem–from timed intercourse and alternative therapies to IVF, ICSI, and assisted hatching), third party reproduction (donor gametes and surrogacy), adoption, and living child-free.

You may have tried multiple paths, therefore, each time state which path you are speaking about out of the four, and the criteria you used to make your decisions. Did you forgo IVF due to religious reasons or embrace it due to personal beliefs? Were there familial or societal pressures unique to your situation that pushed you down one path rather than another? Did you follow in the footsteps of friends or other family members or forge your own path unique to other people around you? Was your decision clear-cut or did you agonize over the choices? Did you create a flow-chart or simply go along with whatever your RE/adoption agency director suggested? If you have a partner, did you make choices together or did one of you have a stronger hand in the decision making?

Equally interesting is commentary on the lack of criteria. To be honest about our own choices (as in Josh and my own), I’m not sure how many of them were made thoughtfully (as in full of thought) and how many were made because we were going with the flow, trying the next thing, and generally trusting that our RE knew the bigger picture. Granted, not all paths bring with it the same level of questioning, but all decisions should be made with mindfulness and in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not sure how much mindfulness was going on in our end. There were flow charts from time to time. That said, this second time around, there is a lot more mindfulness. Same choices made, but this time knowing why we’re making them over others. If that makes any sense. At the same time, you may not have even realized that you were using criteria (feelings about a certain treatment, a comfort level with western medicine, a bad experience somewhere in your past that relates to IF) until you think about it. And probably, if I searched, I would realize there were reasons why we made the choices we did the first time around.

By the way, for the future, each time I do one of these, the post will be titled: Your Pseudonym in Ink. Another one is definitely coming later this week. And I thank you profusely in advance for helping make this book multidimensional instead of simply my own little stunted point-of-view.

The Tyra Banks Show is airing today. Thank you, Jen, for finding that! Yikes…set my VCR for noon today.

On Monday, I broke off my inner rear view mirror. It took me three days to fix it. The lesson of the week: it is far easier to drive with a rear view mirror than without one.

Still working my way through my blogiquette questions.

This is actually a two-part question, but in the interest of clarity, I’ll keep the second part about known readers for next week.

Unless you have an invite-only blog, you have no clue who is reading your blog. And in reality, even with an invite-only blog, someone could open the post at someone else’s house and let them read it (for instance, if your mother had an invite, but not your siblings, they may still end up reading it because your mother opened the blog at their house). But with a public blog, you truly have no idea who specifically is reading your blog unless they’ve commented or told you.

And I ask this question as a very guilty lurker–there are times when I include someone in the roundup and they say, “I had no idea you were reading.” And there are plenty of times when someone I know face-to-face mentions that she reads my blog and when I ask her how she found it, she tells some long story about putting two-and-two together when she realized she knew the author (me) based on people and places mentioned. Gulp.

The question then is how much does not knowing who is reading influence what you write? Are there things you’re not writing about simply because you don’t know who will find your blog or you’re scared certain people may find it one day? Are you more circumspect because anyone from your best friend to your RE could find your blog? Is not knowing a freeing position–you can write anything you wish because you don’t have to picture a specific person reading it? Or does this fact hold absolutely no sway over your mind or blog? How do you feel when someone you didn’t know was reading tells you that they are reading your blog?

Inquiring…Enquiring…minds want to know…