I have cold medicine brain, that overtired, slow-thinking feeling when your body hasn’t been able to sleep off the residual effects of Benadryl.  I slept enough, but my body doesn’t quite want to release Benadryl’s sweet grip.  So everything is moving somewhat slowly today.

I rarely get ill, but this winter, I’ve been sick at least four times.  I think it’s been five, but I’ve lost count.  So to be conservative, we’ll say four.  This is in addition to throwing out my back.  In other words, I’ve been a hot mess.

It feels like every time I get back up to speed in life, I get sick again.  Which makes me take a step back to tend to my watery eyes and sneezing nose.  Afterward, it takes days to get back up to speed with life and become productive (instead of playing catch-up).  And right when I hit that sweet spot where I feel like everything is back to normal, I get sick again and the cycle begins anew.

This has been the lost winter.  Between snow and illness and death and a host of other shittiness, very little has gotten accomplished.

I’m trying to be okay with the lack of forward movement.  To just sit in the reality of this winter, shrug, and think, “well, maybe spring will be different?”

*******

On the other hand, my Hay Day farm is chugging along.  I’m about to enter level 46.  Buy the soup kitchen.  I’ve opened up all my fishing holes.  My barn and silo can each hold 650 units.

It’s good to be productive somewhere.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “This is Why I Read Your Blog” (Stirrup Queens) — thank you, Katherine A and Northern Star!
• “Reflections on My Experience of Infertility, Loss, and the ALI Community” (It’s Just a Box of Rain)
• “The Miscarriage Misconception” (Operation: Wife)
• “Melissa’s Story — Baby Abigail, Stillborn at 36 Weeks” (The Lewis Note)
• “3/21” (Invincible Spring)
• “My Life & Middlemarch” (The Road Less Travelled)
• “The No-Baby Boom” (Macleans)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Two community-created/led projects: The Infertility Voice is back up and running with a gorgeous new design and a lot of resources.  You can jump directly to the blog posts, but make sure you take some time to peruse all the links she’s compiled for everything from discount fertility drugs to premature ovarian failure.  And DI Dad is spearheading a very cool, frank discussion on donor conception.  In the vein of Postsecret, DI Dad is asking those in the donor conception community (donors, donor-conceived, and donor-assisted parents) to lay bare their thoughts on donor conception.  Those utilizing donor gametes should check it out.

Res Cogitatae has a post about the figurative ravens on her shoulder: anger and anxiety.  She writes, “That one says more than the other. It is larger, more demanding, harder to shut away. Anger is more prone to unexpected outbursts, croaks responses that lack proportion. Anxiety is softer but more insidious. It has spent more time with me.”  It is a gorgeous, gorgeous post, and Serenity’s comment is equally thought-provoking: “Fear is a misuse of imagination.”

Lastly, With Every Heartbeat has a post about loneliness; about how difficult it is to make friends with other women when all the various friend-making avenues are closed.  I love love love the end of this post.  Love it so much.

The roundup to the Roundup: I’m sick.  Again.  But my Hay Day farm is awesome.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between March 21st and March 28th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations. Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere–blog writers and/or blog readers.
• Add yourself to the list by filling out this form after adding the icon below: the April list is now closed.
• Click here to cut-and-paste this bit of code to add to your sidebar (if you have the old code from another month, remove it and replace it with this one). You need to add the icon or a link to the current list on your blog (see below) and will not be added until it’s up.
• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

The April 2014 List

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Amateur Nester (infertility, faith, encouragement)
3. The 2 Week Wait (infertility advocacy humor)
4. My Lady of the Lantern (parenting after IF, baby loss, TTC ambiguity)
5. Breathe Gently (mum-of-1-year-old, IVF, PCOS)
6. Life’s Little Bump (recurrent miscarriage, infertility, hope)
7. Inconceivable! (parenting after DE/IVF, struggles, step-parenting)
8. Waiting for Baby (new mom, PCOS, weight loss)
9. Waiting for Baby Bird (infertility, PCOS, waiting)
10. Climbing the Pomegranate Tree (MFI, IVF#2, life)
11. Comatised (love, life, survival)
12. Stellar (love, life, survival)
13. Recovering Beauty (love, life, survival)
14. One Step at a Time (toddler after infertility)
15. The M House (adoption, family, parenting after loss)
16. Life of an Army Wife (army, pregnancy, donor gametes)
17. The Quest for a Tiny Human (infertility, iui, fur babies)
18. The Fertility Challenged Midwife (infertility, life, family)
19. The Infertility Voice (infertility, advocacy, empowerment)
20. An Engineer Becomes A Mom (adoption, parenting, family)
21. A Little Bit More (TTC, infertility, life)
22. Mommy Summers (mom, pcos, family)
23. Dogs Aren’t Kids (infertility, IVF, humor)
24. Living Our Miracle (embryo adoption, TTC, POF)
25. In Due Time (faith, waiting, loss)
26. The Empress and the Fool (IVF, coping, DOR)
27. Birds, Bees, and Medicine (IVF, pregnancy, PCOS)
28. Baby On Mind (embryo adoption, infertility, 40+)
29. The April list is now closed

Q: What if I miss a day?

A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments–12 comments instead of 6.

Q: What if I have two blogs? Can I sign up twice, listing both blogs?

A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

Q: What is an Iron Commenter?

A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is blue, the next month it will be red, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

Q: You said the list closes on the 21st. Well, it’s still the 21st where I am. Why aren’t you moving my information onto the list?

A: All dates and times are U.S. Eastern Standard Time (UTC/GMT -5 hours). The list closes around 11 p.m. EST on the 21st.

Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

Q: Mel, my question wasn’t covered at all. What do I do?

A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

Looking for the comment section? It has been closed on this post. Use the form in the directions to add yourself to the list.

I wrote about this on BlogHer, but I think it bears repeating.  One day, we won’t be here.  But our social media accounts will be.  And the time to decide what to do about them is… now.

People who are dying often think long and hard about making life easier for others after they’re gone.  But the reality is that none of us know when we’re going to go.  A simple thing we can do for the people we leave behind is give them the keys and directions to what we want done with our online life after we’re gone.

Don’t bookmark this post and then put off the tasks indefinitely.  Set aside one hour today to make sure that you take these steps before you’re gone.

Password Passbook

There will be plenty of questions that our loved ones never thought to ask that will plague them after we’re gone. Don’t make passwords one of these things. They are a simple piece of information you can leave behind for someone you trust who may need to get into your accounts after you’re gone. Yes, some sites will help your loved ones gain access, but really, don’t make them jump through hoops while they’re grieving.

Create a simple, three-column document… on paper.  Why save it on paper instead of on the computer itself?  Because a document containing passwords could be found on a computer simply by searching for the word “password.”  The point is to make this document as simple and straightforward as possible, so a grieving family member can utilize it to get into your accounts.

The three categories should be site name, user name, and password.  You can additionally write the answer to any security questions you have on the account.

Put this information in a sealed envelope, and store it in a safe place in the house with other important papers.  Update it regularly and reseal it in a new envelope every time information changes or a new account is added.

Be Clear With Family

What would you want placed online after death? An announcement? Would you want your sites taken down? Left up for eternity? Now is the time to make those decisions.

Clearly write out instructions on what you want to have go up online as well as what you want to have happen to each of your accounts.  Some sites will allow family members to memorialize or delete accounts even without your password, but really, in a time of mourning, you can make things easier for the people left behind if they know specifically what you want (or don’t want) done.

Create a document where you walk through, site-by-site, what you want stated (or not stated) on each account as well as whether to keep up the account untouched, memorialize it, or delete it after a set amount of time.

Social Media Upkeep

It’s not enough to tell family members that you want your blog to remain online for eternity.  If you self-host your site, you need to give clear instructions on how to keep renewing your domain year after year.  You need to create a document that gives your blog host name, your domain host information (if it differs from your host), and the dates that each aspect of your account renews.

If you are choosing not to renew a self-hosted account indefinitely, know that the domain will be lost if it’s not renewed, and your family members will be locked out of your site’s dashboard.  Actually, make sure your loved ones know this fact, so they can act in a timely manner after your death.

Designate a Social Media Helper

Not every person in your life feels comfortable or familiar with social media.  You can do your loved ones a favour by designating someone to be their social media helper in your absence.  This can be a trusted friend that they can ask questions if they arise after your death.  How to renew a domain name, how to clean out your direct messages on Twitter, or how to search Gmail are all things people unfamiliar with these services may have difficulty navigating, especially those who don’t spend a lot of time online.  Give them the name and email address of a person who has agreed to help them out after you’re gone.

Listen, no one wants to think about the day they won’t be here.  But just as people construct a will for their personal possessions to make their wishes clear, we need to make a plan for our online content and accounts.  The loss of you will be hard enough.  Don’t make it more difficult for the people left behind to decide what to do and how to access the online accounts that were important to you in life.

I know that if you are like me, you encounter people from time to time who don’t really understand infertility.  They’ve gotten their information from the mainstream media, or they only know about it through an unrealistic storyline on their favourite soap opera.  So they make unhelpful suggestions or say hurtful things, and then you are in a position where you need to educate them on the basics of your reproductive situation.  You forward them a link to a helpful website, or you point them towards an article.

What has been missing from your explanation of infertility — up until this point — is kittens.

33 of them.

Mostly — judging by size — a few weeks old.  Baby cats.  To explain why you can’t have a baby.  A compendium of borrowed feline babies to tell the story of your malfunctioning uterus.

I can haz IVF?

Image: Nick Perla via Flickr

Sarcasm aside, I don’t really know how to process Buzzfeed’s “Infertility Explained By 33 Impossibly Adorable Cats.”  Someone just sent it to me, and I started reading it with my head cocked to the side, as if looking at the screen askew would somehow bring the message into focus.  But… and I can’t believe I’m writing this… my breath caught when I got to #17.  And #18.  And there were moments where I stopped thinking about how someone was describing something devastating with cats (what’s next?  Cancer explained with pony pictures?  Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 understood through puppies?) and started reading it as simply an explanation of something devastating.

And then I just felt very quiet.

Your thoughts?

I’ve been bothered by one part of the heartwarming story of the child who didn’t want a birthday party because he said he had no friends and discovered — according to People magazine — that he actually had 2 million. (“No Friends for Lonely Fifth-Grader? Turns Out He Has 2 Million.“)  I know — a very opportune story in light of all my recent party posts.

His mother brought Colin’s plight online, and people left encouraging words and sentiments of friendship on an online Facebook page.  Over 2 million people have “liked” the page, and the boy is overwhelmed by all the good cheers.

And that is lovely.  That is a good thing.  That is the sort of story that makes you smile.

But those aren’t friends.

Friendship is more than hitting a “like” button — and that is true when it comes to high school students playing online with their face-to-face friends and it’s true when it comes to a little boy like Colin.  People can say friendly things on a Facebook wall, but that does not make those people friends.  Nor does Colin ever get a chance to practice being a good friend to other people.  Friendship flows in two directions.

I fear that every day we are moving deeper into believing that hitting “like” really connotes friendship.  That Facebook calling a connection “friends” makes two people connecting actually friends.  But when you step back from the moment and let the likes die down, Colin is still where he started except perhaps with the knowledge of support in his back pocket.  For a shy, unsure child, maybe having that reassurance would be enough to push that child out of their comfort zone and reaching out to others.  But Colin’s problems go beyond low self-esteem.  His mother states: “He eats lunch alone in the office every day because no one will let him sit with them, and rather than force someone to be unhappy with his presence, he sits alone.”

There is a lot missing from this story.  Why does the school condone this?  From the wording in that statement, it sounds as if the school permits the other children to be terrible to this child.  I hope the school has put out an effort to help this child learn socialization skills.  What does the school’s counselor think of this situation?  The mother also doesn’t state what she has done to help her child build and maintain friendships.  Does she set up playdates?  Are all of her attempts to help her child rejected?  Was this the first time the topic of a party has been broached?  Yes, we all want to keep returning to those 2 million clicks, but I can’t help but think about all the holes in this story.  None of the articles I’ve read seem to want to focus on those holes, pretending that the act of Facebook likes is the Great and Powerful Oz, and pay no attention to that little boy behind the curtain.

Colin didn’t need 2 million people clicking a button.  What he needs are a bunch of compassionate adults who happen to have compassionate kids who can give this child a chance.  This family needs their son to meet other kids who will accept him as he is, and play with him.  They do not need to become best friends, close confidantes that share all their secrets as they skip off into the sunset.  But yes, every kid needs people they can turn to on the playground and join in their game.  Kids need constant practice at socialization in order to master socialization skills such as team work and listening and compassion and discussion.

This really feels like the social media equivalent of that Jesus parable of “teach a man to fish” except it’s even less helpful.  Hitting “like” doesn’t give this kid the fish to have a satisfying meal, and it certainly doesn’t teach him how to reel in the kids on the playground and make a friend.

I sort of wish that there had been fewer likes and more kids, in his town, who stepped forward and said, “let’s have a playdate.”  His mother states, “I have seen him in this last month blossom because he knows he has 2.1 million friends and that is something that nobody else has. His self-confidence has grown.”  Now that he has that self-confidence, I wish someone would step forward to make a real friendship.  Because he hasn’t 2.1 million friends.  He doesn’t even have one friend from this if no one connects with him in starting a conversation.  What he has is a lot of finger clicks by a lot of people who know this is a problem and have no clue how to solve it.  Or they know what actually needs to get done to solve it, but they choose not to step forward and do something beyond clicking “like.”

That inaction is a very real problem for a lot of kids: Colin isn’t the only child who has no friends.

My hope is that the story continues, and we hear about what his school has done to help foster relationships with other kids.  That we hear about a local group for kids with special needs that invites Colin to join a structured social group that takes in mind his special needs.  For instance, we have a movie-going group in town that is a social group for autistic kids.  I’d love to hear that something like that exists in his neck of the woods, and that group invites the family to join them for their next outing.  Moreover, I want to hear about local parents who threw a party for Colin, and their kids who stepped forward to say, “what you thought wasn’t actually true.”  Because that’s the missing piece of this story.  “Likes” from adults (and they must be over Colin’s age since he is about 10, and you can’t be on Facebook until you are 13 or older) are well and good, as are visits from hockey teams.  It’s sweet.  It’s clicky.  It makes us feel good.

But it doesn’t actually change anything in the long run for Colin.

This is not to dismiss online friendships.  Some of my closest friendships started online.  A few of them continue to this day via a multitude of mediums such as email and phone calls, never getting to move into the face-to-face realm due to distance.  If Colin gained a few online friendships from this page, I’d consider it a win too.

But I’m not getting that sense.  And perhaps that’s just the cynic in me who spends a lot of time volunteering with kids and seeing how much they need friends.  How many kids perceive themselves to be on the outskirts.  And how that affects their behaviour when they go through their school day feeling as if no one has their back.  I want Colin to get a very real, living and breathing friend.  Not 2.1 million of them because no, friendship is not about collecting likes.  I want Colin to get two of three kids who would want to come to a birthday party next year, or maybe hang out and play some video games, or at the very least, play some pick-up basketball at the park.

That I would consider a very sweet ending to this story.