Pomegranates, a longstanding symbol of fertility, serve as a strong analogy to those suffering through infertility. Though each pomegranate skin is unique in colour and texture, the seeds inside are remarkably similar from fruit to fruit. Though our diagnosis is unique—endometriosis, low sperm count, luteal phase defect, or causes unknown—the emotions, those seeds on the inside, are the same from person to person. Infertility creates frustration, anger, depression, guilt, and loneliness. Compounding these emotions is the shame that drives people suffering from infertility to retreat into silence.

The pomegranate thread holds a two-fold purpose: to identify and create community between those experiencing infertility as well as create a starting point for a conversation. Women pregnant through A.R.T., families created through adoption, or couples trying to conceive during infertility can wear the thread, identifying themselves to others in this silent community. At the same time, the string serves as a gateway to conversations about infertility when people inquire about its purpose. These conversations are imperative if we are ever to remove the social stigma attached to infertility.

Tie on the thread because you’re not alone. Wear to make aware.

Join us in starting this conversation about infertility by purchasing this pomegranate-coloured thread (#814 by DMC) at any craft, knitting, or variety store such as Walmart or Target. Tie it on your right wrist. Notice it on others.

Okay, so the graphic is still being constructed using Microsoft Paint. But what can you do. We’re getting closer! When I typed the subject line just now (was this just a slip of the fingers?) I wrote: The Common Threat. The threat of infertility? No, the threat on your life if you ask me one more time if I think fertility treatments are a good idea. Hee-ya!

Just to sum up the comments: Royalyne had an excellent point that took the movement in a focused direction. She spent a hard morning googling pomegranate images and she finally came to this conclusion: though each pomegranate skin is different in shade and texture, the inner seeds are all alike. The common thread of pomegranates.

And I love this because one thing I’ve realized writing the book is that while everyone has a unique way they want to be support or have a loss remembered, we are pretty unanimous as to what types of comments/questions aren’t helpful. Infertility brings out the same emotions across the board–inward anger, outward anger, depression, frustration, anxiety. It’s the common thread regardless of which path you use to create your family.

So I’m placing my vote with common thread. And I changed the graphic so give your opinion. I wrote on the top “wear to make aware” since the point to the string is to have people ask you about it so you can speak openly on infertility AS WELL as to give other Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters you might meet a visual clue about our commonality. To take infertility out of taboo-topic status so that the general public becomes educated about issues and knows the best way to be supportive.

And all of this is to say that it’s all open until tomorrow morning and I will keep changing the image as new ideas roll into the comments section. It seems like #814 is winning insofar as colour (watch us get to the store and find out that #814 has been discontinued). Mandolyn has a great point about writing up a simple explanation for the Common Thread Project (a simple answer when someone asks why you’re wearing the thread) and I think there should also be a larger statement to put on blogs, post on message boards, send out to fertility clinics and adoption agencies, etc. Do people want to start contributing ideas to this statement? If anyone has a good idea for an image, suggest that as well (and if you have graphic design experience, all the better). Let anyone you can know about this so they can put their ideas into the comments section as well.

So keep the ideas coming…

You never know where your week will take you. On Monday I was fretting about what a bitch I am when it comes to other people’s pregnancies and by Tuesday night, I’m storming into Operation Pomegranate.

Yes, divine Ms. C, you did use the term “fun” to discuss something related to infertility (gasp!). Not as much fun as donning knee-high boots and accompanying a husband into the sperm palace, but fun nonetheless. Not just fun–community-building. A way to not ruin someone else’s coffee break with the casual movement of a wrist. A way to identify with someone else standing in line at the movie theater.

A way for all of us to just start talking about it. With everyone. And putting it out there. And not making miscarriage a dirty word. And not whispering that we’re infertile. And putting the real facts out there so that I’m not faced with one more idiot telling me that I’m going to have seventeen children if I (gasp) utilize A.R.T. And a way to explain to people that yes, they are my real children. And yes, that is offensive. And yes, it’s much more common than you think.

So my visual was obviously constructed with Microsoft Paint. Which makes it look like it was constructed with…Microsoft Paint. Which may or may not be a terrible thing. It’s a place to get started. So–simple design (a twist of string, a string twisted into the shape of a pomegranate, a string…doing stringy things?) and a simple message. That cannot be Stirrup Queens Unite. And I’ll tell you why.

Because there are Sperm Palace Jesters. And there are babies conceived with A.R.T. (and I would think DI Dad could have used something like that–a little string tied around baby’s ankle that would make everyone in the waiting room say to themselves, “aaah…secondary IF after primary IF”). But saying “Stirrup Queens, Sperm Palace Jesters, and A.R.T. babies…Unite!” seemed a bit too long. Therefore…

If people do not like the visual (and the visual is pretty much solely to post on your sidebar to educate others about Operation Pomegranate), someone needs to step up and make another one because I’ve exhausted my computer graphic skills at this point. My very very limited computer graphic skills. That extend solely to Microsoft Paint.

AND we need to come up with a slogan that goes along the bottom. Something inclusive. Something catchy. Something that could become the rallying cry of the Land of If. All suggestions accepted from now until Thursday at 9 a.m. Voting will commence from 9 a.m. until noon on Thursday (all Eastern Standard Time). Unless there is a pretty unanimous movement towards one posted suggestion. In that case, we’ll all just be lazy and go with that one. Did I say lazy? Well, that is our right.

If I were more computer savvy, I would also set up a poll to do this, but I must accept who I am. We must vote on whether to go with #814 or #718 (see the comments on Raise Your Right Hand–Unite for details if you’re just joining us). So voting is open between now and 9 a.m. on Thursday. Cast your vote for one of these two colours.

Now go be creative!

Eighteen some-odd comments later and I’ve got to believe you that you want a visible way to show others that you’re not some skanky easy-breeder
and instead worked hard for your embies. And while I love, love, love the pomegranate idea, here are my fears:

(1) the expense–I love the necklace from Uncommon Goods AND (in case you didn’t know) if you shop via the RESOLVE website, clicking on their Uncommon Goods link, they get a portion of the sale. But, I’m worried that it makes it undoable for the total community. While $30 isn’t a lot in the grand scheme of life (hell, it’s not even half a tank of gas out here), it is enough money to give someone pause. And if I had to choose between the vial of Follistim and the pomegranate necklace…well…Follistim (which is actually closer to $50 a pop, but what’s a little money between a girl and her dealer…I mean, pharmacist) will win out any day of the week. That’s not to say that my husband should not buy me this pomegranate necklace anyway. As a “just because” present. And he should purchase it via the RESOLVE website.

Can we pause for a moment to check out these photos and hyperlinks? I mean, as of twenty minutes ago, I didn’t even know how to upload a photo. And now there are photos peppering this very post. Amazing!

(2) I’m worried that if it can’t be discreet, people won’t wear it. If it’s not easy to get, people won’t wear it. If you take it on and off daily, people will misplace it and not wear it.

Therefore…I’m just throwing this out there…what do you think of returning to the purplish string idea? Here are the advantages…(1) embroidery floss can be found in any town in America–and throughout the world. (2) you can never lose it because it’s knotted around your wrist. (3) it’s cheap. (4) it’s easily replaceable over and over again. When I wore a red string, I replaced it once a year. (5) it is easily mail-able (is that a word) and if someone can’t purchase it where they live, someone else can send it to them. (6) it’s discreet.

Instead of Kabbalah red, I propose pomegranate…purple. Purplish-red. Though I had to use black for these sample photos because who has purplish-red embroidery floss lying around their house on an average day?

For those who don’t know the significance of the red string, it comes from a small study within Judaism called Kabbalah. In the Bible, Rachel and Leah are both married to Jacob (ooh, la la, it’s Big Love in the B.C.E.). Leah is popping out babies left and right while Rachel is unable to conceive. She finally tells her husband, “give me children, or I shall die.” Her husband admonishes her and points out that he is not more powerful than G-d and it is G-d who is making her barren. Well… My friends… G-d heard this and got pissed off and told Jacob that this was not the way to speak to a woman in distress–we do not judge harshly.

Rachel goes on to conceive two sons–Joseph and Benjamin, losing her life during the birth of her second child. She’s a woman I think many infertile Jewish women feel a certain kinship. Who hasn’t felt that level of despair–give me children, or I shall die. Not to be dramatic, but I think we’ve all had those moments. There are the five mothers of infertility in Judaism who represent different sides and paths of the struggle: Sarah (the laugh of disbelief when you finally get a BFP and the doubt that accompanies pregnancy), Rebecca (the hopes and magical thinking of infertility), Rachel (the desperation), Hannah (the promises–and if IVF existed back then, she would have been our lady of A.R.T.), and finally Michal (adoption).

Infertile women sometimes go to Rachel’s tomb in Israel and wrap a red string around the tomb. They cut it into smaller pieces and wear it on their left wrist in order to ward against bad luck. But I think it’s more than that. I think it’s that for some people, but I wore the string as a sign of community. I wore it to remind myself that other infertile women before me had children–my own mother had children!–and while they may not have carried those children in their womb or had them arrive when planned, they did end up becoming mothers.

So…I propose a purplish-red piece of string on the right hand (leaning more towards purple than red as to not create confusion). Why the right hand…I don’t know. It just seems like the better hand when bringing good luck. I remember the superstition from my wedding is that you have to start walking down the aisle on your right foot. And you step into your new house with your right foot. And I wanted to set out on the path to motherhood with my right hand. On the right path. With an obvious sign to all my Stirrup Queens out there that I’m one of them and it’s cool to stop me in line at the supermarket and ask me which green tea I’d recommend in order to increase cervical mucous. Because, yes, I did run a personal cervical mucous green tea test and I’d love to share my findings with anyone who wants the help.

What do you think?

Aunt Flo is so…old. And crotchety. And she wears stiff dresses that only look appropriate at church in Kansas in the 50s (with no offense meant towards church, Kansas, or people living in the 1950s). She is forever in a state of balancing a jello mold on her impatient, crotchety hand. And she says things like, “do you think you should be doing that?” And she has a little magnet on her refrigerator that says, “a slip on the lips is forever on your hips” so that you feel like freakin crud when all you wanted was one of the goddamn cookies you saw in there when she opened the refrigerator door to pull out the jello mold. And the worst thing…the absolute worst thing about freakin Aunt Flo is that she always shows up too early. You think you have two more hours to relax and there she is, primly ringing your doorbell, that goddamn jello mold balanced on her hand.

Can you tell that I have a luteal phase defect?

And no progesterone?

And as my husband and I have spent the last three days gleefully speaking to each other like Truman Capote, dramatically slamming the salad bowl on the table while hissing, “you. will. be. stunned!”, I have decided to relegate Aunt Flo to sorting hymnals and hire Truman Capote to be my new period.

But Melissa, you say as you gasp, you can’t fire Aunt Flo. That’s her job. Being a period is what she does!

To which I answer: um…not anymore. Not in this uterus. From now on, it’s my TC. My Truman Capote.

Because while no one would invite Aunt Flo to a party, Truman Capote (according to the documentary that accompanies the movie as a “special feature”) was one of the most sought after guests on the New York literary scene. And he’s adorable. And he has that great voice. And he’s very talented. And these are all things I want in my period.

Plus, I noticed a strong resemblance between Truman Capote and my cycle. He’s as manipulatively seductive as my CD1, filling me with hope for the month. And then he’s good-time-Charlie, partying through ovulation. He’s never there when I need him in the anxiety of my two week wait. And finally, Truman ends my cycle like he’s screwing over Harper Lee at the To Kill a Mockingbird screening, showing up to ruin the party when he’s supposed to be my good friend.

So, from now on–my TC.

And speaking of Harper Lee…I watched the exchange between them at the screening with an absolute pit in my stomach. A make-your-husband-hit-the-pause-button pit. In case you haven’t seen Capote, Harper Lee is his good friend and research assistant. While he is struggling to write In Cold Blood, she hits major success with To Kill a Mockingbird. He reluctantly goes to the screening of the film adaptation and he sulks at the bar. When she approaches him to collect accolades from her dear friend, Truman makes it all about him and doesn’t offer her any congratulations. It’s all about his pain–his frustrations with the novel. And the hit-pause question was…is that me with pregnant friends? Do I do that? Do I make it all about my pain and not celebrate with them? My husband reassured me that it wasn’t. But it all hit a little too close to home. Made me want to stand in front of the mirror and recheck my smile as I say with mock excitement: I’m so happy for you!

That is, if you told me via email or a letter. Beforehand. And if I’m not having my TC. I’m not sure I can be happy for anyone when I’m entertaining Truman.