Josh brought home the Dixie Chicks movie, which led us to buy the new Dixie Chicks album, which led me to drive home last night waiting 13 songs until the infertility one came on, but that’s sort of the end of the story.

Admitting this will probably cement the fact that I do, indeed, live under a rock, but I really didn’t know the extent of the fallout after they spoke these words:

“Just so you know, we’re ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas.”

We got the movie for the IVF talk. Which stirs up its own controversies in conservative America.

I think my mouth was hanging open as I watched the movie because it seemed unreal that an entire career could unravel and need to be knitted again simply due to 15 words. And not very hateful or controversial words at that. Criticising the president–that’s as American as apple pie. New politicans and activists just started their careers opposing this war. And ordinary citizens should speak up–I’m fairly certain that the people who sent the Dixie Chicks death threats and destroyed their CDs would not choose to live in a country where free speech is suppressed.

There is a scene where they’re going on stage to play a show knowing that they’ve received a letter informing them that Natalie Maines will be shot during the performance. And all I could think about as I watched that scene was that she’s a mom. And the two other chicks–Emily and Martie–are moms as well. From IVF. And they didn’t go through all of that just to bring the kids into this world–they went through all of that so they could raise those kids. And the idea that someone out there could think that it’s better to silence someone who is critical of the president and allow children to grow up without a mother terrifies me. It terrifies me that there are people who think this way. Choosing not to purchase her albums and sending a message with your wallet–fine. I don’t agree, but if someone wants to do that over 15 words, I can understand the impulse. But to be so angry that you suggest strapping her to a bomb and dropping her on Baghdad? Or telling her to shut up and sing or her life will be over?

That’s intense.

I know I talk a lot about being careful of how we speak to one another and the damage that can be done with words. But, by fuck, the other side of the story is to not allowing words to carry a greater weight than their intended meaning. I’m not talking about hate speech, because hate speech does have a rather large intended meaning. But the things we say in passing. The things we say without thinking. Or the things we mean wholeheartedly and are technically allowed to express in this country without consequences as large as the ending of a career.

We bought their album to support two fellow stirrup queens who sing about their experience with infertility with their song “It’s So Hard When it Doesn’t Come Easy.”

Apparently Hollywood is reading our blogs because there is a new pilot being tested according to Variety.

The show has already been picked up by Fox. It’s called the Return of Jezebel James, starring Parker Posey. The logline: “When a single successful children’s book editor learns she is physically unable to conceive, she is forced to ask her estranged sister to carry her baby for her.” Really? Forced? There’s no one else in the world who can be her surrogate? Truly, regardless of that last sentence, I am approaching this with an open-mind mostly because I love Parker Posey. And because they just may portray infertility well on this show. What is the law in America? Innocent until proven guilty?

Last night we were watching the Colbert Report (where, of course, he mentioned the ice cream and fertility study just as I was considering whether or not I was too cold for a heaping bowl of coffee chip) when a commercial came on for a Bahamavention.

What, you ask, is a Bahamavention? Apparently, vacations aren’t being prescribed solely for infertility and baby-making anymore (because, as you know, if you go on a vacation, you will get instantly pregnant. Instantly. Even if your husband has a zero sperm count. Even if you produce no progesterone. Hell, I’ve even heard that it works if you go on vacation and you’ve already ovulated. Vacations are that powerful. You simply ovulate a second time that cycle the moment you start sipping that first margarita. And if it’s CD1, your period miraculously ends immediately, your lining grows to perfect thickness, and your follicles pop out eggs like your ovaries are a steaming bag of jiffy pop).

Take a little look right here: Bahamavention.

I’m just sending this out as a public service annoucement to all the crazy infertile women out there who are beating up soccer coaches in your grief over not having children. Just go on a vacation. Really, you’ll see how your stress if affecting everyone else and you’ll come back rested and knocked up (insert condescending laughter here). It’s really that easy. I’m surprised that you’re spending so much money on IVF. Vacations to the Bahamas are much more affordable. And you not only get a baby, but you get a fantastic tan.

Welcome to the second tour of the Barren Bitches Book Brigade (and yes, it looks like it will remain the Barren Bitches after the vote last week)–a book club from the comfort of your own living room. Grab a cup of coffee and start clicking away at the links below.

Just to explain, this book club is entirely online and open to anyone in the infertility/pregnancy loss/assisted conception/adoption/parenting-after-infertility world (as well as any other related category I inadvertently left off the list). It is called a book tour because everyone reads the same book and then poses a question to the group. Participants choose a few questions to answer and then post their response on their blog. Readers can jump from blog to blog, commenting along the way.

Book: Children of Men (yes, the book that was made into a movie this year–so if you saw the movie or read the book, jump into the discussion)
Author: P.D. James
Post Date: March 5th
Click here to see the master list of questions created by the Barren Bitches.

The Barren Bitches Book Brigade List (click on any of the links below to take you to a stop on this book tour)

Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters (Mel)–my post is directly below the post you are currently reading
The Annex (Josh)
Wishing and Waiting (NCD)
Evil Mommy (Spyderkl)
King Baby (Jessica)
My Many Blessings (Tina)
The Iron Circle (Cathleen)
The Opposite of Knocked Up (Melissa)
Still Passing Open Windows (Carlynn)
Outlandish Notions (Sharah)
The Tragic Optimist (Ann)
Once (Ms. Once)
Infertility Sucks! (S)
Postcards From the Mothership (Danigirl)
My Inconceivable Life (Inglewood)
Beaten But Not Bowed (The Drowned Girl)

Even if you haven’t read the book, you can jump into the conversation in the comments section of any of the blogs above.

Like the idea of being in a book club without leaving your living room? The next book for book tour #3 has been chosen (as well as books for tours #4 and #5). We will be reading The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (and to give a heads up for anyone who wants to read ahead or get on a reserve list at the library: the books for tours #4 and #5 are Maybe Baby by Lori Leibovich and Waiting for Daisy by Peggy Orenstein. Peggy Orenstein will be joining us when we read Waiting for Daisy to answer our questions!).

Tour #3 will start tomorrow (March 6). Participants will read The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. On Wednesday, April 11th, everyone will send one question based on the book (to get a sense of questions, click here to see the questions sent for book tour #2) to thetowncriers@gmail.com. I will compile the questions into a list that will be posted on April 12th. Everyone will choose 5 questions from the list and answer them on their own blog on April 16th. On April 16th, I’ll also post a master list and people can jump from blog to blog, reading and commenting on the book tour.

If you would like to sign up to participate in book tour #3, leave a comment below or send me an email at thetowncriers@gmail.com. I need the title and a link to your blog as well as an email address where you’d like the two or three book club emails sent. If a spouse wants to participate too and he/she doesn’t have their own blog, have them set up a blog solely for book tours (as we did with the Annex) and send me a link to that blog. And if you’re a reader without a blog, now is a great time to set up a space for yourself on Blogger. People will be able to find brand-spanking-new blogs because they will be on the book tour’s participant list. Happy reading.

Intrigued by the idea of a book tour and want to read more about Children of Men? Hop along to more stops on the Barren Bitches Book Tour by visiting the master list in the post above. Want to come along for the next tour? Sign up begins today for tour #3 (The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger) and all are welcome to join along (see the post above to sign up). All you need is a book and blog.

6. Would you be able to go through all that Julian went through in order to have her baby in peace and safety?

Since I didn’t get pregnant easily, I can’t really speak to how I’d behave if I had conceived within that first year of trying. But I can say that after infertility, I have become more protective than I ever thought I would be. Before we started trying, I had a friend who would always pass along her new baby to me when we were at shul. And she trusted me to walk around with her baby while giving her a break. That’s the mother I thought I would be. I wanted to be easy-going and share my kids and give other people that joy of playing with a baby. But something changed in me with infertility. Even before the kids were born, I felt very protective. Protective of my belly when they were inside. Conservative with who held them once they came out. They’re now 2 1/2 and we’ve never left them with someone outside of our family with the exception of the handful of times they went to daycare before we pulled them out. I can’t really put my finger on how much of that is part of the infertility experience and how much of that overprotectiveness comes from the NICU experience. But I can say that I felt myself morphing more into the type of mother I actually became when we were going through treatments.

Julian’s actions–what she went through in order to give birth and ensure that she would have full control over the situation and therefore full protection over her child: that was one of the most believable parts of the book. I think there are women who would say, “damn, just go to the hospital and get the epidural and suck it up if Xan takes your child afterwards!” But I think I would have done the same thing–gone to any length to ensure that they were my definition of protected.

8. What do you think is the significance of the fact that the two people who are finally able to conceive are both considered “flawed?” (Luke had epilepsy and Julian had a deformed hand)

I’d like to believe that P.D. James was using those characteristics to reveal the small-mindedness we fall into when we start thinking about perfection and birth (and, yes, I am guilty of this too). A little while ago, there was a New York Times article that was going around the blogosphere on PGD and deafness. Some Deaf parents (and I use the capital D to refer to the culture more than the condition) were expressing a desire to have a deaf child. There was a lot of discussion in the blogosphere that condemned these parents just as these articles used biased language to show their stand on this situation. For me, it felt a lot like fertile people making commentary on IVF. I didn’t comment because I’m not deaf and therefore, I have no idea what it feels like to have a child who exists within a different circle of society from myself. Having spent a lot of time on the Gallaudet campus, I can promise you that there is a rich Deaf culture complete with deaf jokes, deaf theater, and deaf literature. It is a different way of experiencing the world just as infertility is a different way of experiencing parenthood. And if you can see the benefits of infertility (as some have written about recently in that other popular blogging topic–would you ever want to go back and be the person you were pre-infertility), you can probably see how someone would long to have a child who exists within their same world–no matter how painful that world may be. Obviously, I’m not saying that I long to have an infertile child because I’m infertile. I hope my children never have to go through what we’re going through. It’s not a perfect analogy, but that article made me rethink how we view imperfections–both in conditions and diseases. And I think P.D. James was trying to get us to rethink how we speak and think about deformities and diseases–especially in this brave new world where technology and tests exist that allow us to know our child’s health prior to delivery.

This answer in no way is meant to dismiss PGD or medical termination–I am a firm supporter of both. And it’s not that I agree that PGD should be used for these purposes. Rather, my issue is solely with the judgement expressed in these articles and the way we reduce deafness, dwarfism, or even infertility. Infertility sucks and it’s terrible. And fertility treatments are painful. And hormones make me feel like shit. But when we label infertility as “bad,” we don’t convey the friendships and relationships I’ve built with other stirrup queens. Or how I’ve become more sensitive and thoughtful in other areas in life. I hope my children aren’t infertile–this really isn’t something I wish to share with them. But if it does turn out that they are infertile, I know that there is more to the experience than just the shittiness. Does that make sense? So I have to trust that a deaf parent is seeking to connect with their child not on the deafness per se, but on this unique way of viewing the world that they experienced due to their deafness. I think these articles–and the fertility testing done in the novel–also scares me because who defines perfection. Who sets hearing above silence? What is the definition of perfection when it comes to a human and how do we know that someone isn’t perfect?

Aaaah, I was doing so well staying out of the New York Times discussion and now I’ve jumped into the fray. But that’s how I viewed that information in the book: that people who weren’t “perfect” weren’t even tested because no one wanted them to be the ones creating the first child. But how do we define perfection in regard to humans and what is the purpose of attempting to create it (or to reject imperfections)?

14. If you were living in this time period and were given the ability to become pregnant but knew you would be the only person to do so, would you have that child knowing that they would be completely alone in an empty world for the last twenty-odd years of their life?

This was a really hard one–especially because I, the mother, would be included in the people who died and left the child behind in the world. I am terrified of leaving my children during a time when they need me. And who wouldn’t need their mother at the end of the world? I really sat with this and tried to imagine my child walking around the world completely alone. Without another human being. I’d like to think that I would be the humane parent and not put my child through that. Yet I know I would have that child. I would. I would look at the years we had together worth the pain at the end of that lifetime. I would hold out hope that things in the world would change and more children would be born. And I don’t know how I feel about myself with that choice or how my child would feel about me knowing that I put them in their current situation. But what’s the alternative–not being born at all. And is that truly any better?

16. One of the reason’s I suggested this book
to Mel was because of a very thoughtful article in the NY Times by A.O. Scott comparing the film and the novel versions of Children of Men. Scott closes the article with a quotation by James speaking to the differences between what she normally writes — detective novels — and the world she created for Children…. She says, “The detective novel affirms our belief in a rational universe because, at the end, the mystery is solved. In Children of Men there is no such comforting resolution.” The conclusion she leads us to, of course, is that the universe is not nearly so rational, which I thought very aptly describes the world of IF. At the end of the novel, we really don’t know what will happen next — will they find a cure for the world-wide infertility crisis? Will totalitarian rule come to an end in England? Will Theo wield power more wisely than Xan did or will he fall victim to the same peril he saw in Rolf? The haze of uncertainty resonates as it does with parenting-after-infertility because it’s not all happily-ever-after when the wished-for child is born. Does anyone else identify with that? What does it take to deliver ourselves out from our own dystopias?

I think that’s one of the big myths of infertility–it’s one that the fertile world certainly believes (now that you have a child, what’s the big deal? Why are you still so focused on infertility?) and the infertile world does as well. We think that once we become parents, the hurt will instantly melt away. We’ll forget about all the times we sat in an empty nursery and cried. But it certainly isn’t an instantaneous switch–at least it wasn’t for me or anyone I know who has been through infertility. I think time–not situation–dulls the pain of infertility. And for those who are still working to build a family, the clock doesn’t really kick in until family building is complete. And for those who fear that their parenting path will continue to have obstacles that will need to be overcome in future years, I’m not sure when the clock begins to tick away the pain of infertility. I’m not saying that the hurt feels the same after you’ve become pregnant or carried to term or adopted or held your child carried by a surrogate. It’s a different ache, but an ache nonetheless. And it’s an ache that signals the emotions that still need to be resolved. Because after the infertility itself is resolved, I think we finally find the space to begin resolving the emotions of infertility. I think we’re so focused on resolving the infertility and becoming parents that we hold some of those emotions we’re feeling about loss or control or jealousy at arm’s length. And we finally let our arms down and start dealing with those feelings when our arms finally have a new job of holding a child rather than keeping everything at bay.

18. For those that are naturally ambitious (in other words, a type-A personality), do you think it is realistic to fall into apathy or ennui so easily if there are no future generations?

It didn’t feel completely realistic to me. First of all, the lack of hope rang a bit false. I mean, even when you know there’s no hope, you try and try and try (and still feel the same sadness when the efforts are futile even though you knew in your heart that there was no chance). And I just couldn’t believe that 25 years (or however long it had been since Omega) was all it took to take away any sense of hope. I’ve read blogs where the person has been trying for 15 years and they still have some semblance of hope–if they truly had absolutely no hope, they would stop trying–even if their rational self accepts that they may never become pregnant. So I didn’t really believe that the world would give up that easily–let the entire planet fall into disrepair and cease any advances in science. I think a greater emphasis on plan for the worst/hope for the best (which was somewhat the case, but it was certainly played down in the book) would feel more realistic.