There are one thousand good reasons to adopt and only a few bad reasons to adopt:

Bad adoption idea #1: adopting a child in order to put their nimble little fingers to work.

Bad adoption idea #2: adopting a child in order to make another person jealous.

Bad adoption idea #3: adopting a child so you could be his or her saviour.

There is a thin line between helping other people and becoming their saviour. And sometimes when we discuss transnational adoption, that saviour complex comes bubbling to the top. And when it pokes its head out of the jumbled soup that is parenthood, it makes me worried. For that child and for that parent.

I don’t know Madonna and Guy’s motives for adoption–I’m not in their head or in their family. I don’t know the intimate details of how the adoption took place or what was said to the birth father or what thoughts ran through Madonna’s head when something that smelled vaguely like the starting words of an adoption reversal took place. I don’t know how deeply invested they are in the life of this child or what kind of childcare they’re giving him. I don’t know if Madonna makes her kids breakfast in the morning or leaves all nightly tuck-ins to the nanny.

I can’t throw stones because I live in a glass house where I’m considering transnational adoption as well. What I can comment on is something she said during her Oprah interview: “To see what I saw. It is a state of emergency. As far as I’m concerned, the adoption laws have to be changed to suit that state of emergency. I think if everybody went there, they’d want to bring one of those children home with them and give them a better life.”

And that’s what I mean by the saviour complex. Avonlea has a wonderful post about race and adoption as well as class and adoption. She asks difficult questions about adoption and poverty–whether we are more uncomfortable discussing class and poverty in regards to adoption than even race and nationality. And Madonna’s words played directly into this idea of removing children from poverty and bringing them into affluence as a means for “bettering” their life.

My fear is that Madonna actually believes that she is helping the country of Malawi by adopting this child and bringing him to England.

As I said in the beginning, there are 1000 good reasons to adopt. I don’t think I would be writing this post at all if she said something like this to Oprah: “Oprah, Guy and I realized that we wanted another child and we have so much love and support to give another child. But since we couldn’t conceive with my eggs, we decided to adopt. And we met this boy at an orphanage in Malawi and I instantly knew that he was meant to be in our family.”

Some humble parenting: I hope we do a good job raising him. I hope that we navigate this new experience well and help our son grow. I hope he knows how much we love him and how he is now one-third of my heart.

Anything other than thoughts of saviourhood and how much he needs you to parent him. How about how much you need him to be a parent?

This weekend is just the perfect storm of activity–visit from the inlaws, twin club consignment sale (selling, buying, AND working in it), National Infertility Awareness Week, and I’m certain many Halloween activities thrown in for good measure. The true question is whether there will be time to swing by the salon for an eyebrow appointment…

While next week will obviously be dedicated to all things spooky, this week was sweet: both true sweetness such as Tara’s wonderful news and bittersweet as Manuela discusses life after Shoelet. But they say it better than I can…

Tara over at Plan B found out this week that her plan B worked–her surrogate is pregnant with her baby! With a beta of 204 at 11 days post 3-day transfer. Which is amazing, amazing, amazingly fantastic news. And…on the Twilight Zone-y front…her father always predicted that something big would happen for her in October. In October!

Recently, Artificially Sweetened turned me on to the phrase “Google Med School” through her blog. AfriIndie Mum’s entry this week about getting blood test results back and spending the day engaged in a round of medical sleuthing drives this idea home. It’s not that medical information didn’t exist prior to the Internet. We have a huge medical library a few miles away that I use constantly. But now it’s so eaaaaaaaaaaaaaasy. I just hit a few buttons and two thousand Web sites pop up with information about antithyroid antibodies. The problem with being a medical student at Google University is that you have just enough information to become worried, but not enough information to actually understand the big picture. It’s a great entry, and I hope everything turns out okay when she speaks to her doctor next week.

Sarah Solitare got a big old box of fun this week in the mail: her meds arrived! I always had my meds filled (perhaps like an idiot who didn’t know how much less expensive it could be to fill them all at once via the mail) at the pharmacy in the clinic building so I’ve never had a box like this arrive, but I assume it feels a great deal like Christmas. A big, infertile Christmas. I’m trying to laugh about it because if you don’t laugh…you cry. Hope you get it to fit on one shelf–or better yet, hope you’re shipping it all off to someone else very soon. And congratulations on the saline sonogram.

Jen and Gretch at Butterbeans and Baby Dreams are experiencing a little thing I like to call ICBFT–an “I Can’t Believe the Fucking Timing” (which, for anyone who cares, I pronounce ick-ba-fat). Their next IUI is going to possibly fall during the one day that Jen has her engineering certification. That takes 8 hours to complete. And is one-hour away. What are two chickies to do except pray and keep taking OPKs like crazy women? I think the timing dance of infertility is one of the more annoying factors that no one thinks is a big deal…but is always a big deal. I mean, it doesn’t hurt, it’s not embarrassing, it doesn’t cause complete devastation. But living your life by a calendar and clock is difficult to do and means something always has to give. Hope the surge miraculously holds off until Monday (wouldn’t that be cool?).

There’s no way to end this week without talking about Manuela at the Thin Pink Line. If you haven’t been over there for a bit, please comment and leave your good thoughts. She has an amazing post this week about the birth and her future plans. And I think she just has an incredible point-of-view–of life, of birth, of motherhood, of this process. And I wish it had all turned out differently, but since I lack a magic wand…I wish her strength while her heart grieves and sends love to her Shoelet.

National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) begins this weekend on October 29 and runs through November 4. RESOLVE has set up programs around the country through its local affiliates to educate the public on infertility issues. The three ways they suggest taking part in NIAW:

Learn. RESOLVE is here for you—to answer your questions and get you the information you need during your family building journey.
Cope. You are not alone. Attend a local RESOLVE-sponsored support group or event. You can find one in your area.
Take Action. Contact your representatives and ask them to support legislation affecting infertility treatment and adoption.

From their website, you can download sample letters to mail to local newspapers and other media sources about NIAW. I think it’s very empowering to still be doing something to combat infertility even when your body isn’t cooperating. As I said in my last post, some things are out of our control. But raising awareness isn’t.

From the RESOLVE website:
If you have any questions or need more information please email our Marketing and Membership Manager, Rebecca Flick at rflick@resolve.org.
Download a sample NIAW Press Release.
Download a sample NIAW Letter to the Editor of your local newspaper.
Download a sample NIAW Public Service Announcement.
Download a sample NIAW Calendar announcement to submit to community calendars in your local newspaper.

If you’re not already a member of RESOLVE, this is a good time to join and find out about all the resources they offer to those experiencing infertility. This includes a helpline, a great magazine, and local programs and support groups in your area.

So go kick some ass and educate people this weekend.

A few weeks ago, I received a surprising email from a friend in the area. She had given notice at her job, given notice at her apartment building, and was picking up and moving alone from Washington, D.C. to California at the end of the month. No job in hand. No place to live. No true knowledge of the area.

And you probably just read that paragraph and thought the same things that I thought when I first read the email. Is she crazy? What will she do for money if she can’t find another job for a while? Where will she live? Why would anyone give up their stable life for a cross-country move without reason?

There were the selfish thoughts: but I’ll miss you. And the incredulous thoughts: do you really think this will make you happier? And the other incredulous thoughts: California is just so far away from everyone you know and love. If you want warm, why can’t you try Florida?

And the jealous thoughts: how fantastic would it be to live on the beach? How fantastic would it be to be at the mouth of this brilliant new experience that could lead to…anything?

I don’t want to move. I don’t want to pick up and start over somewhere. That truly didn’t run through my mind. I’m happy where I am–location and situation. But there’s this excitement that comes from the first day of school or the first day in a new city or the first day of marriage that is so fleeting. Anything could happen. And you sometimes wish you could experience that level of excitement again. Because you forget that it comes as part of a total package that includes many other emotions–some good and some undesireable.

I know that she’s scared and I know that she’s wondering if this was the best idea in the world. But this is the way she explained it to me. She is not expecting this move to make her happy. She’s not expecting that by moving she will meet her future husband or become a mother. She’s not expecting that by moving all the pieces of her life will fit cleanly into place and she’ll find a satisfying career and a wide circle of friends.

The reason she is moving is that she realized that she could be unhappy and confused in a city that she dislikes or she could be unhappy and confused in a city near a beach that she loves. And she’s taking back control of her life. For years, she has been waiting for life to happen, and she’s coming to the realization that some of the things she wants are out of her control (sound familiar, anyone?). And she’s just taking back the things she can control. Like where she lives. And owning a dog. And spending her free time on the beach. In a town that is sunny 360 out of 365 days of the year. As she said, she could deal with five days of rain. What she couldn’t deal with anymore was working in a job that she didn’t like and living in a city that she didn’t like when she doesn’t have the things she wants. She knows she may not have the things she wants in California, but at least she won’t have them in a place that she chose. That represents the control she took back in her life.

I’m so proud of her because making those choices are so scary. And they’re huge. And they come with a boatload of doubt. Isn’t it just easier to stay in a place that you know, even if you’re not happy? But she hasn’t chosen the easier path. And I’m sure there will still be people who scoff at her decision to move. But why is one reason better than another? Why is it better to move for a job or for another person? She’s chosen to move for herself. Not for any fleeting unstable reason–you can be fired from a job and you can lose a person. But no one can take self-awareness away from you. And she had her moment of clarity–her moment of self-awareness–where she looked at her life and thought, I could be doing this elsewhere. And where do I want to be?

And those are the best decisions we make–the ones we do for ourselves and no one else. Without regard to the struggle that lies before us when making those decisions, but trusting that it will all work out in the end. I hope she gets her happy ending. I hope she finds so much peace in California that the other pieces of the puzzle fit into place. I hope the drive cross-country is easy and that she stops at every corncob statue and canyon in the West to gawk. I hope she doesn’t forget how strong she was the day she made this decision.

I love you, sweetie. Have a wonderful journey.

After waxing on about the shitty things people say, I wanted to explore that tangential thought about how people feel the need to distance themselves from anything perceived as imperfect. We’re all looking for a reason to take ourselves out of an undesired category. We create new language for it–people aren’t fired anymore, they’re downsized or their company is “reorganized.” People aren’t irresponsible bastards, they just have anger management issues. And then there are the chickies who come back to let me know that they didn’t have fertility issues. They are knocked up. They are with child. Ta-ta!

My sister once told me that she was deeply annoyed that I would call her and cry for an hour about a boy issue and then never follow up and tell her how things turned out down the line. I see her point–once you’ve vented to someone and asked for advice, there is a bit of an obligation to let them know how things turned out (agree or disagree). Just because they’ve invested their emotional energy into helping you solve your problem. Therefore, I somewhat expect that once someone has shared their fertility struggles with me that they’ll return and tell me how everything turned out. This isn’t always the case, but it’s nice when they do.

So then it follows that if the person didn’t end up having problems, shouldn’t they come back and fill you in on how everything is okay?

Well, yes, I do want to hear that all is well. I do want to hear that you’re now pregnant. But…I don’t want to hear about the line that divides me and you. Because those who return and say, “turns out that I didn’t have a problem” aren’t really telling me about how it turned out. What they’re really saying is that they’re removing themselves from that category of infertile and planting themselves firmly in fecund soil.

The Mommy Wars battlefield starts back with the womb. The one-upmanship that sociologists pick apart on the playgrounds begins with who has the more fertile womb. Because what is more feminine, more female, more powerful than the ability to create life? And those who create it without problems are like the girls who aced every exam in school without studying. And needed to tell you that too.

So what could these people say when they came back to admit that they were panicked for nothing? Here’s a little sample I whipped up for anyone in this situation: “thank you so much for sharing all of that information with me. It certainly helped because it eased my mind when I was freaking out and I’m grateful that you were so open about your experience. It helped mine in turn and I’m now pregnant.”

An obvious question that may be asked by…me…or the person who shared the information: “did you end up seeing an RE or using treatments?”

Answer if you didn’t because you really didn’t have a problem: “No, we didn’t. But I’m still keeping in mind everything you told me because you never know what’s going to happen in the future.”

Mission accomplished: the truth is exchanged and feelings are saved. The person isn’t part of the infertile category and the infertile person doesn’t feel subpar. And they join hands and dance in a ring and sing about the “Circle of Life” a la the Lion King.

But women aren’t always like that. You have your troops–those chickies who stand behind you no matter what. Who would never date someone you once dated. Who will bring over the tub of ice cream. Who will let you try on 22 pairs of jeans and give her opinion on each one. And then there are the neutrals–who don’t factor into this story. And then there are the Mullies–the Mommy Bullies–who start by telling you that they are so fertile and continue into the parenting years by explaining why their way of potty training is the best way of potty training. And judge. And make comments about how parenting is soooooooooooooo easy.

I’m glad I have my troops and that they’re large in number. And I’m glad the majority of women in this world fit into the neutral category. And I’m glad that the Mullies who go out of their way to try to make someone feel shitty are somewhat avoidable.

Why does the implication of “I’m not one of you” hurt me? Because it implies that I’m in the damaged category and they’re in the undamaged category (again, back to natural is nice). And because they obviously went through a range of emotions about trying to conceive but they’re sweeping away reality in exchange for some sugar-coated vision of pregnancy that is filled with an inner light of peace and joy. And by sweeping away those emotions, they’re apparently forgetting how I may be taking this information–a person who didn’t sweep away the emotions and remove herself from the infertile category even after she had children. It’s not that it can’t be done–people either talk themselves out of the fact that they ever felt something or it truly didn’t phase them. But it phased me and I didn’t talk myself out of it. And even if I had accomplished that feat the first time around, it would be back to bite me in the ass on this go-around.

Which goes back to the idea of white lie. Is it better to share the truth in this situation and come clean with your fertility or is it better to spare the person’s feelings and dance around the topic? Is blunt better than sensitive or is it a case-by-case basis (and how do you ever decide which way to go)? If I can share my struggles, why can’t the other person share their accomplishments? And lastly, do we have a responsibility to go back to the people who helped us along the way and let them know how it turned out?