Fertility treatments come with a few silver linings. You get a chic sharps box which is an excellent receptacle for those “I Voted” stickers you get on election day. You can create a small constellation of prick marks across your belly and teach yourself astronomy. And you are so in tune with your cycle that you know all the special days to celebrate down the road. One of these days is Dot Day.

Dot Day is what we call CD1 of the cycle that we brought (pretty much) to term. I know, I know, they weren’t actually little dots at that point. They were merely prefollicles. They were wishes. They were ideas that simply needed the right mix of hormone injections and time. But I like to think of them as tiny pulses of light on CD1, that energy that became the ChickieNob and Wolvog. We’ll celebrate Dot Day this weekend with a cake and quiet fanfare. It really is more a family holiday for Josh and myself than one to share entirely with them lest they choose to share it with unsuspecting elderly ladies in the yogurt aisle. Aaah, the joy of being a beta baby.

The whole idea of celebrating Dot Day reminds me of a line from The Handmaid’s Tale where Aunt Lydia reminds the women that there are different types of freedom: “There is more than one kind of freedom, said Aunt Lydia. Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don’t underrate it.” Obviously, living in a repressive regime is far from ideal, but she points out the benefits. There is no rape, no murder, no objectification through pornography (I guess they choose their objectification through other means). These are strange side benefits to having all “freedom tos” removed.

Having all of the information at my fingertips–watching the entire story of their conception and birth unfold down to the smallest details, from my basal body temperature to my level of E2 to the number of ampules of Follistim I used on a given day–it’s a thin silver lining, a freedom from conceptual ignorance. My children will never be able to truthfully shout at me: “why did you have me? You don’t even care about me!” I can show them that this was no happy accident, no squinting at a calendar trying to recall my last period. This was orchestrated. This was planned. This was the Pulse of the Dot.

I think adoption also has this silver lining, the proof of the work, the proof of the desire and thoughtfulness behind the action. There is Gotcha Day and other markers that spin through the calendar yearly. These days are impossible to forget. They are the markers that brought you closer and closer to your life changing.

Would I give all of this information away to have that conceptual ignorance and have those adolescent words spat at my face–in a heartbeat. It is the same way we accept that we have no freedom froms in our society, though we have many freedom tos. We’d love to have both, but I think if we all had to choose, we’d take our messy, terrible world over the harsh and fearful environment of The Handmaid’s Tale. I think we’d all choose ignorant conception over IVF.

Thinking about Dot Day approaching left me sitting in the kitchen at 12:45 a.m., crying as Josh tried to eat an extremely late dinner. What if there is never another Dot Day? What if there is a Knowing Day, but the Dot Day belongs to another woman? What if? What if? What if this is it?

Having this day to celebrate is lovely, but knowing so much makes the inability to attain it that much more bitter. Dot Days, Knowing Days–these are things other parents out there have never considered. But they’re the days that make not having a Dot Day or more Dot Days difficult to swallow. Every CD1 is such a moment of hope. It is its own pulse. Its own life. I am forever looking up dates–if this moved from a dot day to a Dot Day, what would be Knowing Day? What would be the Birth Day? Birthday?

I think that is what I wish non-infertile people could understand, the emotions of CD1. And what it means. The largeness of it. That eternal mixing of sadness and hope. It is always an end day. It’s always a beginning day. And until it becomes the Dot Day, the one you celebrate for years to come, it is simply a dot day, a strange mix of wishes and knowledge and anxiety and fear. It is frustration and denial and rage. It is turning over large sums of money for a chance. It is sometimes simply a strange reminder–a monthly reminder–of what is not going to happen. I imagine that long after I move away from marking CD1s, I will still take note of CD1s. I will remember what that day means for the rest of my life even when I’m not trying, if that makes any sense at all.

Updated at the bottom yet again:

I was going to start this post with “someone should write a book…” but then it occurred to me that if my googling finger wasn’t feeling lazy at the moment, there probably is a book already out there on blogiquette–some set standard of blogging etiquette that tells a person how soon they should reply to a comment or if they should ask before linking.

The problem, of course, is that no one really knows the content of said book if it is published because these questions pop up all the time on blogs. I’ve asked them. When JJ at Domesticated popped my IM cherry, I asked how often I could bother other innocent people who were diligently working. I received only two answers. It could be because it was a stupid question or because no one truly knows. In the meantime, I’m so scared to IM that I’ve been revirginized and can again wear white on my blog truthfully. Or somewhat truthfully. Who even knows at which point a person truly becomes IM revirginized? See, we need a book.

Um…the point. The point. Oh, the point is that I feel like an enormous bitch simply writing back “got it” on an email and not pausing to write a long response in regards to the Creme de la Creme. It’s a two-parter: one half of it is time. If I wrote back the long response, something would have to drop. Working, eating, raising the ChickieNob and Wolvog, washing my husband’s underwear, reading blogs, writing my own, and listening to non-stop Christmas music while making boatloads of candy that I am consuming by the boatload. Stress eating–proper stress eating that is worth doing–takes time. So I’ve been writing back a brief “got it!” and feeling like a huge bitch–as if eating an entire tray of toffee is more important than you. And it’s not. But it’s hard to walk away from an entire tray of toffee and to have that entire tray, I need to have time to make it.

The second part is honestly saving the blurb or my gushing until post day. The two or three line blurb is my own summary of the post and I love writing them. Listen, there’s a reason why the Creme de la Creme is good enough to eat–it is literally fun to make and fun to read. In fact, there is a storybook rhyme that I thought of last year as I compiled it that has come back into my head again.

The book is Seven Silly Eaters by Mary Ann Hoberman. It’s a book about a family of fussy eaters who try to make their mother breakfast on her birthday, botch the whole meal, toss it in the oven to cover their mess, and accidentally end up with a “pink and plump and perfect cake” (apologies if I get some words wrong; I’m writing this from memory). If you want to get really deep and stretch a bit, you can also see it as a tale of the happy accidents that come when unhappy ingredients crash together.

We all are or have been miserable–infertility, whether it is functionally- or medically-based, hurts. Even when you are not actively trying to add to your family, it has left a scar. Infertility and loss are the unhappy ingredients. But we throw them into this pot–the Creme de la Creme list–and we get this fantastic creation. It will make you laugh and cry and nod in agreement and curse the writers.

At the end of the first day, there are 23 currently on the list. 23 blogs, 23 posts, 23 sets of words that are going to move you beyond belief. There is a song that will literally make you pee in your pants every time you remember it as you walk over to the shwanking rooms at the clinic. And there is a post about the day a woman learned she was about to become a mother a few weeks later. There is a rallying cry for fertility coverage and an explanation for infertility to those outside its realm of understanding. I hope I get 23 every day between now and December 23rd. Wouldn’t that be an incredible list?

We sort of are like the kids in that Hoberman book, we all throw in our ingredients BUT just as they were each responsible for whipping up this cake during future meals, we each can spread the word about the list and try to get everyone in the infertility/pregnancy loss/adoption blogosphere to have a contribution on the list. Please nudge your favourite bloggers to send along a link.

So I apologize for the short emails or if it takes me a few days to write you back. Or all forms of rudeness that come from a lack of cohesive understanding when it comes to blogiquette. Or perhaps that’s just my excuse for being a complete dick. Beyond being mega into wizarding (of which I still am).

Um…and send your link! And don’t be turned away by my gruff “don’t you dare leave your link in the fucking comments section or I will rip your head straight off your neck and…” that I left in the Creme de la Creme post. It was only the blog post that you couldn’t leave in the link in order to keep it a surprise. You can still leave me a comment. Make me feel special. Make me feel like a trillion dollars.

Added:

Just wanted to add that when I admitted my distress at a host of blogging issues–from the length of time it can take me to respond to an email to replying to comments to writing brief replies to having a row occur in the comments section–Josh replied that the rule should be that “if it’s rude in real life, it’s rude online too.” Which is a good rule until you start applying it and then you remember that terse replies in real life are rude therefore “got it” is equally rude. And then Josh says, “but you can’t write back everything you want to write each time.” To which I reply, “but then you’re telling me to be rude because terse replies are rude in real life.” To which he says, “Mel, email is different.” And I shoot back, “but then your rule is worthless.” Which leaves me back at square one.

Sorry, last thought:

And this all goes back to politeness and rudeness. For whatever reason, a bunch of the Creme de la Creme emails have gotten stuck in my spam filter. Which isn’t a big deal–I just fish them out. But sometimes things get deleted from the spam filter before I can save them. If you send your submission and you don’t get back my little, rude “got it” email within 24 hours please send it again. You will get back some response from me when I open the email so…if you haven’t gotten a response, I haven’t gotten the email. See, this is where politeness can actually save the day! Three cheers for a response, even if it is a lame response.

For those who have been having problems with the badge, does this work? Again, change all the { to < when you put it on your blog (there are 6 of them) and bring it all into a fluid paragraph (I had to divide things like "getting-ready-to-read" onto two lines to get it to fit): {a href=”http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/2007/12/getting-ready-to-
read-little-creme.html” target=”_top”}
{img alt=”Creme” src=”http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2SDEpISlohw/R1L4JRVi5II/
AAAAAAAABRg/ZVNmR_9POno/s200/Creme+de+la+Creme+List+Are+
You+2.JPG”/}{/a}

Updated at the bottom:

If you’ve been looking for an excuse to walk down memory lane and read through a year’s worth of posts from your blog, look no further. It’s time to prepare for the Creme de la Creme of 2007.

If you didn’t read or participate in this list last year, the impulse behind this list are the ubiquitous award ceremonies that crawl out of their hiding spaces usually around December or January. Awards are nice–it’s good to honour someone and mark big accomplishments. But we all have a best post tucked into our archives. We all have words that have moved another person or ideas that have kicked off a series of musings. Bloggers are writers and all of us deserve to be celebrated.

And we’re doing just that.

This is the way it works. If you want to participate, read through your archives and choose a favourite post. You can leave all sorts of comments below telling me how fantastic I am, but email me your post submission (do not leave it in the comments section–the point of this list is also the surprise of seeing the choices revealed on a single day). If you post your link below, I will probably delete it. Again, feel free to leave love comments below–in fact, please do leave love comments below–just not your submission for the list. Let’s keep it a surprise until the list is ready to go up.

You can only choose one entry. You cannot be modest. Everyone has a best post. There is no such thing as a boring blog. Even if you don’t think you have any readers because you’ve never received a comment, you have a best post. The one that you felt really good about when you hit publish. The one that would be the post you’d put forward if an editor called you tomorrow and said, “I have this great writing job for you that will pay a million dollars an hour. You just need to submit one blog entry to get this job so we can check your writing style.”

Even if you just found my blog because you read about the Creme de la Creme on another person’s blog, you are not only welcome to submit; you are encouraged. It is the best posts of 2007 for the infertility and pregnancy loss community and that community includes anyone who writes about infertility, adoption, pregnancy loss, assisted reproduction, and every related topic–from living child-free after infertility to parenting after infertility. Everyone on my enormous blogroll is welcome to participate and everyone I haven’t found yet too. Really, you don’t need to be a regular reader of my blog to join in. It’s open to everyone in the IF/pg loss blogosphere. Really, I can’t say this in more ways than that. Which means you don’t need to write me a note asking if it’s okay to participate. The answer is yes. Okay?

Actually, it’s not only “yes” it’s “please do.”

The list will be posted January 1st and I promise you that you will use up a good portion of the beginning of the year reading through the most stunning posts you’ve ever seen. I think we had about 80 posts or so last year and I’d really like to top that this year. My goal is all 1040+ blogs currently on the blogroll, but baring that, let’s aim for over 100. Which means that not only do you have to participate if you’re reading this, but you need to spread the word and get other bloggers to participate (more on that below). Link to this post, send out a note to other bloggers you like, and suggest favourite posts to bloggers from this past year.

Um…other FAQ-like things:

• You can only submit one.
• Please don’t submit two and ask me to choose.
• Submit one.
• I will probably only send out a quick email with the words “got it” just to let you know I’ve added it because it takes a long time to read through submissions and write the little blurb with the link. I hate being impersonal like that, but the list took a long time to put together last year hence why I’m starting earlier this year.
• Think of this list in sort of the same vein as those “Best American Short Story”-type collections except that it’s blog entries and everyone in the blogosphere should be represented with a link.
• The idea of the creme de la creme is not to put out there “the best” by someone else’s definition of “best.” It’s to put out the entry that means the most to you. Everyone has a best entry from 2007. It’s the one you would cry about if it was ever eaten by your computer. Even if it’s only meaningful to you.
• If you are in this community, you have been touched by IF, whether you went into conception knowing you’d need assistance, like the fine chickies under gay and lesbian or were shocked beyond belief like others on the blogroll. Even if you didn’t start blogging until you were parenting a child after adoption or were pregnant from your first IVF cycle, all are welcome to add your favourite post from this past year. Got that–it doesn’t need to be a post about being in treatments.
• As long as you’ve had one post in 2007, you can participate. Even if you didn’t start your blog until October 2007. Just choose your best from the last two months.
• If your blog is password protected and you want to participate, choose your blog entry and create a free blog at Blogger or WordPress and post that single entry. Then send me the link so I can place it on the list. I can’t link to password protected blogs.
• The 2007 list doesn’t close until December of 2008. Which means you can always submit to the list. There’s no such thing as “too late.” Of course, getting it in by the deadline would mean that it’s definitely in when I put it up on January 1st and therefore seen by the most people, but you can submit it whenever you wish.
• Deadline? What? Oh, please send submissions by December 23rd if you want to ensure that your blog has a link on the list when I post January 1st. Anything sent after December 23rd will be on the list, but I may not be able to get it up until the list has already been posted.
• Oh–about that link, send the following things: the title of the post, a permalink to
  the post, the name of your blog, and the url for the blog. I’ll do the rest.

If you don’t want to participate, do nothing. With the Creme de la Creme List, I never add a blog or highlight a post unless the author has sent it to me. Therefore, no hurt feelings. If your post isn’t on the list, it’s because you haven’t sent one. If you see someone missing from the list, go bug them and tell them to submit a post. But don’t send me a note asking me to add them without their permission. I really would like this post to be what the author believes is their best post, but if you are feeling shy and can’t choose, enlist a friend to help you narrow it down and choose your best work.

Lastly, there is another section of the list that needs your help: blogs that closed in 2007. These are blogs that closed entirely–the person stopped blogging–not blogs that went password protected. If you read a blog that closed during 2007, please send me the title of the blog. It doesn’t matter if it was read by one person or read by 5000 people, all blogs should be honoured and recognized. And all blogs stand on the same plateau here.

Spread the word with the following button on a post or your sidebar to encourage others to send a link:
The code for adding the link to your blog is below. Simply turn all of the { into < href=”http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/2007/12/getting-ready- to-read-little-creme.html” target=”_top” alt=”Creme” src=”http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2SDEpISlohw/R1L4JRVi5II/ AAAAAAAABRg/ZVNmR_9POno/s200/Creme+de+la+Creme+ List+ Are+You+2.JPG” style=”font-weight: bold;”>Everyone has a best post. It is your personal best. It is not best by any other standards. Stop comparing yourself. Stop feeling shy. Stop thinking it’s immodest to toot your own horn when I’ve told you to toot your own horn. Start reading through your archives. Reflect on the year. And then send me a link for the list.

Wheew. Sorry about that last part. But everyone in the blogosphere should be represented and honoured.

Ooops–and if you’re looking for more stuff to do, go read through the posts from the 2006 list and then visit each blog to see how much life can change in a year.

Updated at 3:25 p.m.:

Just to kick your ass a bit–the first link is in! So now you can stop feeling shy and send your link. Everyone could use a little love right now–let’s celebrate us.

Last night, I was not in the Living Room because I was watching a Brazilian film at a film festival called The Year My Parents Went on Vacation. I hope that just made me sound smart. Did it make me sound smart? I wore a navy blue turtleneck to make myself look smarter as I sat there to watch the film. I hope I looked dark and broody and film-serious.

The film seems to be traveling on the film festival circuit because the filmmakers were going up to New York today. In fact, I just sent Josh on a google hunt for the film and here are some more locations where it will be playing. It is in some Jewish film festivals, though it’s not really a “Jewish” film per se. It’s a Brazilian film with a Jewish storyline.

December 4th in New York at the JCC in Manhattan (it looks like it’s free!)
December 6th and 9th at the Palm Beach Jewish Film Festival
Sometime in the summer for the Palm Springs International Film Festival

The film is set in 1970’s Brazil during the time of the Disappearances. This dark period in South American history has interested me since I saw a production of Ariel Dorfman’s Death and the Maiden (did that make me sound smart?), which is one of my favourite pieces of music (that must have made me sound smart). It is one of the most brilliant plays I’ve ever seen or read and I loved the production I saw in particular because there was a moment where the character of Paulina slips off her underpants and stuffs them in the mouth of Dr. Miranda. All I could think as I watched that scene was “damn, it’s a really lucky thing that the actress doesn’t have her period at the moment and need to wear a pantiliner. How did she time that?”

See, smart thoughts.

Anyway, the movie I saw was set during the Disappearances and it is about a boy whose parents need to go on “vacation” (read: hiding) to escape the regime. They drop him off at grandpa’s apartment in Sao Paolo and, of course, grandpa has had a heart attack that day and died. So this boy is alone in the city, with no way to contact his parents, and a vague promise that they will be there to get him when the World Cup begins. Why did I love it–beyond the fact that I was bawling five minutes into the film when the parents had to say goodbye without saying goodbye (my friend hissed at me, “pace yourself!”), I loved the way a community came together to take care of this twelve-year-old boy who was literally dropped on their doorstep. It was a little bit like a human stone soup where the boy was the stone and the community members were all vegetables, adding themselves to the pot until this boy had a rich and flavourful life in Sao Paolo.

Plus, the directors were there and it made me love the film more to able to interact with them in the lobby after the film. Which brings us to the Barren Bitches Book Brigade and all of the author participation that is going to go down in the next few months…

The dates and details of the next few tours for the BBBB are now posted on the past tours link (I should probably change the name since it has past tour and current tour information). I am excited to report that EVERY book that we’re reading has author participation. I think being able to speak with the authors and having their participation makes the tours really exciting. We kick off the new year with Karen Fowler and The Jane Austen Book Club, which is currently in theaters if you want to watch the movie version. Then we’ll be chatting with the hysterically funny and smart Beth Kohl from Embryo Culture. AM Homes will be there for The Mistress’s Daugther, Sara Gruen for Water for Elephants, and Sinead Moriarty for Baby Trail. I am beyond excited that we’re doing books by TWO bloggers: The Empty Picture Frame by Jenna from Epiblog and So Close by Tertia from So Close. Some authors are sending along pages from upcoming novels for us to enjoy as a teaser and others are open to real-time live chats in the Living Room. So…lots of exciting things on the book front.

But slipping in between the tours are also going to be cool online chats with authors. The first one is coming up in January and I need you to vote on a time/date. Darci Klein of To Full Term will be in the Living Room to discuss her book and answer questions on pregnancy loss. If people are divided between two times, she may be able to hold two separate chats. The four possible dates/times:

• January 8th at 10 a.m. EST
• January 8th at 8 p.m. EST
• Jaunary 9th at 8 p.m. EST
• January 10th at 8 p.m. EST

The earlier time is probably better for those overseas and the later times are probably better for those who don’t want to enter a chat room while at work (because…you know…it’s good to get work done at work). So vote by leaving a comment below as to which time works best for you. You can also sign up by leaving a comment or sending an email right now. Even if you can’t finish the book in time, you can still come with general questions about pregnancy loss, writing, and even pregnancies following a loss. All I need from you is your blog name, blog url, and an email address where I can reach you if you’ve never participated in a book tour before. And a vote for favourite time or date.

Oh, and it goes without saying that this is open to anyone and everyone–whether you have a blog or not.

So, that’s all the cool, upcoming book information (and I’m setting up a bunch of these author chats for the future) and film information and hopefully I’ve come across as smart. And turtleneck wearing. And here are some cool posts I read this week:

I really loved this post at Won’t Fear Love. Julia writes: “At breakfast this morning she declared her baby dolly hungry, then promptly pulled down the top of her dress and stuck the dolly’s face to her nipple? And then sat, holding the dolly in place with one hand, operating the fork with the other, and chatting non-stop for the next several minutes? What?” But then Julia floored me later in the week with this post on grief. Tertia asked bloggers to discuss their experience with grief and Julia brought out this thought on abiding, allowing another person their grief and sitting with them (literally or figurative) instead of walking away. It is a post that every person trying
to comfort another should read.

Growing Our Little Bean had a hysterical, theatrical post this week, staging an actual discussion with her clinic’s nurse during the follow up appointment to her D & C. You will need to click over to read this scene with the Condom Fairy because any clips from the post will spoil the tongue-in-cheek humour in the face of post-loss grief. Absolutely loved it.

Lastly, Yodamistress at We Are What We Repeatedly Do has a post about her sister’s children. She writes about her transformation–from questioning parenthood to her own desire to parent–all through her experience with her niece and nephew. She writes: “In spring 2006 my sister and the SD went on vacation to Gatlinburg for a week and left the kids with us. I was soooo nervous. To be honest, half the reason I agreed to do it was because I secretly thought it would be a “wake up call” to Zeno and I about how difficult juggling jobs and kids really was.” And of course, it was the moment where she fell in love with being a Mommy. It is a beautiful post that aches with love for her niece and nephew as well as her own longing to have a child that is entirely her own.

Have a wonderful weekend with lots of relaxation. I am seeing more movies at the film festival including one filmed by an old college friend! That was a kick in the head when I saw his name in the catalog. Which reminds me of another kick in the head that happened last night, but I guess that discussion will need to wait for another time because this is growing into the longest Blog Roundup in the world. And don’t forget to sign up for the online chat with Darci Klein and vote on a time/date.

Catching up on emails this weekend if you’re still waiting to hear back from me. Lack of ovulation coupled with early period on my final cycle before returning to the clinic kicked me in the ass today and stole too much of my time.

I’m going to take the risk of this post being taken in the wrong way and place this out there. I will warn that I’m ducking and taking cover in case words are thrown.

I was recently reading an article in a magazine… Okay, this is the part where I admit that it was People Magazine and I wasn’t in a doctor’s office; I was in my own house. Anyway, I was reading People and there was an article about Grant Achatz*, the chef at Alinea, an ultra-hip Chicago restaurant (I should also state that I read all my issues of People well after the fact and this particular article was in the October 22nd issue. In my world, Britney and K-Fed are still deeply in love and J Lo is still hush-hush on the pregnancy).

Achatz was diagnosed with tongue cancer and he states, “the irony of the situation is tragic to people.” His mentor, a fellow chef, said of the diagnosis: “Devastating. A sick joke on someone so talented and so in need of his taste buds.” The article continues with “his illness grabbed headlines and brought in crates of get-well notes.”

It is a cruel situation. Cancer is always a cruel situation, regardless of age or profession. A chef–who needs his tongue in order to fulfill his passion and perform his job–is diagnosed with stage 4 tongue cancer just as his career is taking off. This cancer comes out of left-field; he does not fit the common profile for this form of cancer. He is commended for fighting it, supported by many, sent hope by everyone who reads his story (okay, that is an assumption on my part. For all I know, Achatz receives daily hate mail).

One who skims this post will probably jump down my throat when I now turn to examine the reception of an infertility diagnosis and say, “I can’t believe she is comparing stage 4 cancer to infertility.” I’m not. One is life-threatening and the other is only provable to the mainstream as lifestyle threatening (though off-record, I could form a strong argument for the many instances of how infertility is tangentially life threatening). Yet they are both classified as medical diseases.

The article in the Globe and Mail had an online comments section, and beyond the title labeling women treating their medical disorder as “desperate” the comments followed inline with that form of thinking:

“It’s an old-age epidemic- not a fertility one. Why are children considered commodities? If you can’t bear one naturally, maybe nature has another plan for you…”

“This will likely come across as insensitive but why is there this insane drive towards ‘natural’ children. Even if those children are the result of fertility treatments. There are plenty of children who need to be adopted into a loving family.”

“Why stress about something that isn’t happening as easily if at all like it should. If you want a child adopt one.”

If you treat one medical condition, you’re courageous. If you treat another one, you’re desperate. I wonder which side of the fence you fall on if you’re treating infertility directly stemming from cancer. Since it seems as if people need to pick-and-choose which treatments of disease they support–how would they navigate that pickle? I am feeling bitter because I’ve been told one too many times that my problem is apparently not a problem. Of course, this comes from people who have never experienced this problem.

The tragedy of Achatz’s situation is not that he has leukemia or brain cancer–he has tongue cancer and he is a chef. It would be just as tragic for a composer to go deaf or a visual artist to become blind. When our medical condition affects our job, our passion, our raison d’etre, it is ironic and tragic rather that the more commonly used adjective in conjunction with cancer–devastating.

My job, my passion, and my raison d’etre has been to be a professional mother. A full-time mother. A career mother. Which is not to say that a mother who works is not a career mother–in many cases people hold two jobs: one which is their passion and one which is their means for existence. Motherhood is my career choice and it is a passion that chose me–not the other way around.

My job as a teacher was nice, but I could take it or leave it. If I wasn’t getting paid, I probably wouldn’t do it. On the other hand, I would gladly be a mother without receiving anything in return. Okay, I’d like a kiss every now and then. And a sniff of keppie. But I don’t need the monetary reward in order to complete the job. Writing, of course, is a similar passion. I write even when I’m not getting paid to write. If I were to lose my memory for words, it would be tragic. I would not only be suffering from a condition, but I would also lose something that makes me Melissa. Achatz states in the same article: “I’m a chef. My cooking, my art, has kept me going. Take that out of me, and there’s nothing left.”

I feel the same way on a lower level about writing and I certainly feel that same passion on a higher level about motherhood.

Being a career mother isn’t a respected profession. I mean, people marvel at the behaviour of my children–behaviour and kindness that is taught during my many hours on the job–and think that they’re wonderful, but I am constantly asked what I do. “I’m a mother,” I respond. “I know, but what is your job?”

Perhaps the lack of empathy towards infertility comes from a society that has little respect for mothers. Yes, yes, we respect mothers, we designate parking spots for expectant ones and give up bus seats so they can sit down and the like. Adoption agencies certainly expect a lot out of the parents they accept into programs, but there are no degrees, no coursework, no preparation for parenthood in general society. Motherhood isn’t seen as a job, per se. It is a state-of-being: “stay at home” mum vs “work outside the home” mum. You stay at home. You work outside. It’s the passive vs. the active.

Achatz is a chef and he needs his tongue in order to create his artistic visions of food. I am a mother and I need my reproductive organs and hormones to work in order to create the life that I wish to mold into productive members of society. I cannot do my job without seeking treatment for my disease just as Achatz cannot do his without turning toward his own prescribed chemotherapy and radiation.

It is common refrain to suggest adoption. Adoption is not a cure for infertility any more than other suggestions are a cure for cancer. Adoption is its own entity–and to suggest it as a solution, as a means to get “rid” of a problem–is to disrespect all families and members involved in an adoption. Especially but not limited to the child. But throwing out adoption as the cure-all is about as enlightened as calling up Achatz and saying, “I heard crushed herbs can cure tongue cancer. Stop being desperate with all of this chemo and radiation and try that so you don’t pollute the world with chemicals.”

Not very empathetic, n’est-ce pas?

So why would people believe that it’s helpful or kind to produce a similar dismissal of the enormity of the problem when it comes to infertility?

A better response: I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. I want to support you and be sensitive. Do you want to talk about it? Do you not want me to ask about treatments? I’m going to follow your lead.

An end point–I would wish neither condition on my worst enemy.

* To Mr. Achatz, if you read this: I apologize for using you as an example, but the convergence of reading your article the day after reading the comm
ents on my article brought this issue to mind. I was pretty hurt by some of the comments and spent a traffic-light-pause of time having a brief, frustrated cry. I am sure you have also received assvice since being diagnosed–assvice that wasn’t included in your article therefore I’m not privy to it, so it’s easy to imagine a world where one condition is fully supported and the other is not. I’m sending many good thoughts to you and I’m looking forward to your cookbook being published so I can try out all of the recipes and impress at my next dinner party.