The phone rang while I was working, and I was all set to ignore it and keep editing, but I noticed that the caller ID said “Washington National.”  It wasn’t clear if the call was from the baseball team or if it was another Washington institution (for instance, Washington National Airport or Washington National Theater), but I was sufficiently curious.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, is this Melissa?”

“Who is this?” I asked suspiciously.

“My name is Chase Parker*, and I’m with the Washington Nationals.”

I straightened up in my chair and set my pen aside.  The Washington Nationals.  I love the Nationals.

“I saw that you attended some games last year.  Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, we love going to games.”

“So tell me about how you go to games.  What’s your routine?”

“Well, we like to get to the stadium an hour ahead of time so we can give the kids lunch.  That way, we won’t have to get up much during the game.  Except for cotton candy.  Since, it’s… cotton candy.  Actually, you probably know me because I’m a superfan.”

“Sure,” Mr. Parker said.

I was delighted that my voice carried as far as I hoped my voice carried.  “Well, then you know that I like to shout out to my boys during the game.  My favourite is obviously Morse, but I scream for Espinoza and Ramos.  And, of course, Tyler Clippard.  Actually, I love all my boys.  I don’t really like to name favourites.  I mean, I’ll tell you that Morse is my favourite, but I love all my boys.  And I scream for them and call out advice and… well… I like to photograph the games.  I took a picture last summer of Ramos right as he hit that amazing home run against the Pirates in July.  I literally got the ball connecting with the bat.  But mostly I like to just freak out and cheer on my boys because they are such a great team.”

“Wow, you sound like you’re a great fan.”

“Actually, I’m a superfan.  I’m more dedicated than a regular fan.  I’m a superfan.”

“You sound like a superfan, Melissa.  Think you’re going to hit a few games this summer?”

“Of course.  My boys need me to cheer for them.  I mean, as a superfan, I feel like part of my job is to spread the love to everyone else in the stand.  Get them on their feet and screaming support for the team.  So, hells yeah, we’re going to a bunch of games.”

“Actually, I was also calling to speak to Josh.  Is he around?”

At this point, I was pissing myself because I assumed they wanted to speak to my husband to (1) thank him for having a wife who was a superfan, (2) ask us to move to special seats behind the dugout so I could converse with my boys while they were waiting to go to bat, and (3) have me sing the national anthem.  I took down Chase’s phone number and promised him that Josh would call him back that afternoon.

I called Josh at work and said, “Oh my G-d, oh my G-d, oh my G-d, the Nationals called us and they know I’m a superfan and they probably want me to give the boys pep talks between innings and I am totally certain that we’re going to start sitting in the dugout and you have got to call this guy Chase Parker back because he wants to talk to you immediately about something having to do with the Nationals.  I just spoke to him for over 20 minutes about the team.  He knows us!  He knows that I’m a superfan!”

“Melissa, I think he was calling with a sales pitch,” Josh told me.  I could hear the clicking of keys as he Googled the man’s name.  “Mel, he works in the sales office.”

“Sales?”

“Like he wanted to sell you a subscription.  Which, you know, I’m all for buying.  Wait, you spoke to him for 20 minutes?”

“Er…”

“Instead of editing?  You never answer the phone, and you spoke to this man for 20 minutes?”

“Because I’m a superfan.  I’m such a superfan and love the boys so much that I even love their sales team.”

Fini.

*Chase Parker’s name has been changed because I don’t want the guy to Google himself and find this story.  Since I’m still convinced that he wants me to sing the national anthem.

I read about this movement to create tiny honour-system libraries on people’s front lawns.  Nothing more to say about it except that I am seriously considering creating one.

*******

Babble rounded up a list of the top 50 ugliest names according to Twitter.  By which I mean, the people who utilize Twitter.  I clicked over to see if my name was on the list, and then immediately asked myself why the hell I would care.  Why would it even be interesting as to what you think is an ugly name (that would be the collective, disembodied “you”)?  Even if you thought that my name was the ugliest name in the world, there isn’t anything I’m going to do about it.  If the twins names had been on the list, they still would have been their names.  And if the name we’ve already chosen for a third child was on the list, I would have still used it.

The opinions of people I know carry some weight, but that disembodied “you” of the Internet?  That you’s opinion doesn’t mean a lot to me.

But still, I saw a few friend’s names on that list, and part of me felt like I should write them a note today.  Let them know I do like their name.

Rather than tell you the names I don’t like — because how shitty would you feel if I said your name — I’m going to tell you the names I do like that we can never use.  This is actually a helpful practice because you may hear a name that you (1) didn’t know prior to this point or (2) hadn’t considered.

I like talking about things I like.

So names I like the sound of: Prudence, Jesse, Ramona, Tabitha, Jakob, and Henry (Josh nixed this one by saying in the most incredulous voice, “Henry Ford?  Henry Ford, Melissa?”).

What names do you like the sound of, even if you’d never use them?

*******

There was a winner for the mishloach manot giveaway.  Random number generator spat out #162: Kristin!  So sugary love is on its way to you.

And thank you to everyone who participated and spread love across the Internet this week in the form of comments.  So much more fun than your usual giveaway.

*******

And now the blogs…

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

• “Adoptees Place in Both Families” (Insert Bad Movie Title Here)
• “Flattened” (Too Many Fish to Fry)
• “How to Help a Friend” (Eggs in a Row)
• “Left Behind” (Where Love and Chaos Reigns)
• “There Goes My Baby” (Mrs. Spit… Still Spouting Off)
• “Meaning” (Mommy Odyssey)
• “More on the Adoption Tax Credit” (From IF to When)
• “To Be Alive” (She Laughs at the Days)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Miss Conception has a post about marking her twins’ birthday.  She sets up candles and flowers that they can look at in remembrance, she makes gifts in their name to several organizations dealing with infertility and loss.  She writes, “I haven’t done much crying today yet, but I’m sure there are a few tears yet to come. I feel so much love in my heart for those little spirits. I have been smiling as I think of them and have given myself permission to open their nursery door and go inside. Maybe I’ll sit in the glider-chair with their bears before bed and talk to them for a few minutes.”  It is a post not about loss but about being in love.

The Elusive Second Line has a post about a recurring dream she has about the same little boy.  He changes in age, his features transform, but he is always her little boy.  For a while, the dreams stopped and she missed him, but then suddenly they came back.  These dreams which bring her such happiness when they occur are also the thing that is stopping her from being able to move forward with adoption, planting a “what if” in her brain: “Maybe this is why I’ve never completely embraced the idea of adoption. I want to embrace it. I want to go into it head first and never look back. It seems like it would take away a lot of stress from my life because in the end (even though it is not an easy path) there is a baby in my arms. With the current situation I can’t necessarily say the same. But if we do adopt we will adopt trans-racial. That is something I want to do. But then…it won’t be him.”

Fearlessly Infertile has a very honest post about contemplating stopping family building.  When weighed against all they are giving up in order to become parents as well as the peace they’ve felt during this time period where little is happening in terms of forward motion, she has realized that the desire to become parents has become a want more than a need.  I just love the openness of this post, especially her final thought: “Brandon and I have no doubt in our hearts that we would make good parents. We would love our child unconditionally. But sometimes because we question the process (especially the cost of the process) we feel like we don’t deserve that opportunity.”

Lastly, Three is a Magic Number has a post about compassion fatigue.  She defines it: “It’s a common phenomenon amongst those whose professions surround trauma, like social workers and first responders and the like. You can’t deal with that kind of shit without getting some of it on you. That’s called secondary trauma. You might assume that secondary means that this brand of trauma is of  a lesser degree, but that’s not what it means. It’s  just as disintegrating and damaging and demoralizing. It just didn’t happen directly to you.”  This post is brilliant because she deconstructs the difference between therapist and blog reader, namely, the walls we build vs. the walls we deliberately dissolve.  I really feel this is one of those posts that everyone needs to drop what they’re doing and run over to read.  Immediately.

The roundup to the Roundup: Tiny libraries are so cool.  What are your favourite names?  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between February 24th and March 2nd) 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: The list is now closed.  The April list will open 3/29
  
• 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.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Lessons from an Infertile Social Worker (transracial open adotion)
3. The Quest For Little Lambies (fertility,spirituality,interventions)
4. Donating Hope (egg donor, SIF, divorce)
5. My Bum Ovaries (premature ovarian failure)
6. Bereaved and Blessed (parenting, secondary infertility, loss)
7. For We Are Bound by Symmetry (fet #2, ttc #1, loss)
8. Meier Madness (pcos, fet, crazay-zy)
9. BattleFish (pregnant after ivf w/#1, life)
10. If You Don’t Stand For Something (male factor, life, ramblings)
11. In Due Time (life, infertility, miscarriage)
12. Where Do We Go From Here? (infertility, depression, life)
13. Our Growing Gardunn (undiagnosed secondary RPL, infertility, septum removal)
14. Our Pathway to Parenthood (infertility, mfi, septate uterus)
15. Baby-Making Merry-go-Round (infertility, IVF, emotions)
16. Life and Love in the Petri Dish (pregnancy #7 or miscarriage #7? Too early to call…)
17. It Is What It Is (Or Is It?) (ttc#2, donated embryos, adult adoptee)
18. Navigating Cyberloss (grief, cyberloss, recovery)
19. Life in the Last Frontier (open adoption, parenting, infertility)
20. Infertile First Mom ((secondary) infertility, birthmotherhood, IVF)
21. Baby On Mind (infertility, IVF, adoption?)
22. I’m Polycystic Inside (pregnant, twins, omg)
23. Bread of Baby? (infertility, low carb, health)
24. Que Sera Sera (long-term infertility, teaching, emotions)
25. Hobbit-ish Thoughts & Ramblings (parenting after if/rpl, expecting #2, life)
26. Dragondreamer’s Lair (parenting, secondary infertility, crafts)
27. Notes from the Ninth Circle (PGD, IVF, insurance)
28. Feeling Beachie (life, humor, family)
29. The Pussy Palace (trying to conceive)
30. Dwelling on dreams (miscarriage, rpl, childless)
31. The Stork Drop Zone (parenting, infertility, hobbies)
32. No Baby Ruth (parenting at 9 months, pcos, Spain)
33. The Infertility Voice (infertility, empowerment, donor egg)
34. CD1 Again (infertility, step parenting, starting treatments again)
35. The Long Way Around (PCOS, recurrent miscarriage, infertility)
36. Writing for Life (life after loss, infertility, uk)
37. Mommy Odyssey (RPL, stillbirth, hope!)
38. The Cornfed Feminist (pcos, oversharing, pregnant)
39. Cease and Decyst (pcos, anovulation, irreverence)
40. A Miracle in the Works (pregnant with #1 after a loss)
41. Tiny Bits of Hope (infertility, teaching, life)
42. Pregnancy 101 (infertility, anovulation, clomid)
43. I’m Just Ducky, Thanks (surrogacy, adoption, RPL)
44. These Fragments I Love (pregnancy after RPL, grief, faith)
45. MoJo Working (infertility, TTC 10+ years, FET)
46. Glitter & Rainbows (infertility, public adoption)
47. Believing in June (ttc #2, ivf, marriage)
48. Waiting For Little Feet (IVF, PCOS, irony)
49. The Redhead Files (infertility, RPL, endometriosis)
50. Bébé Suisse (miscarriage, ttc again, switzerland)
51. Schell Family Blog (parenting twins after ivf)
52. An Engineer Becomes a Mom (adoption, infertility, relationships)
53. Bring on the Babies… (pregnancy, IVF, recurrent loss)
54. Syringe Sisters (ttc #1, fet, ramblings)
55. Life As I Know It (twins, parenting, life)
56. Inconceivable! (fet, infertility, ttc)
57. Wistfulgirl’s World (foster-to-adopt, infertility, life)
58. Our New Normal (adoption, weight loss)
59. Our Long Awaited Spud (parenting, unicornuate uterus, cloth diapering)
60. Outlandish Notions (parenting after IF, finding balance, feminism)
61. The Elusive Second Line (TTC #1, PCOS, depression)
62. Turn Around (thank you, sign off)
63. Searching for the Missing Piece (domestic adoption, RPL, life)
64. It’s Gonna Happen (infertility, ivf, fet)
65. Hope in times of uncertainty (icsi ivf, faith, pregnancy)
66. Creating a Family (infertility, adoption, parenting)
67. Lori Does Maryland (pal, ivf, parenting)
68. 3 Bed, 2 Bath, 1 Baby (parenting, humor, snark)
69. Mare Just Beginning (pcos, injectibles, parenting)
70. Adventures in Babywaiting (motherhood, IVF, ttc #2)
71. Whitney & Erick (surrogacy, IVF, RPL)
72. TheStorkDiaries (TTC 2 years, mid 30’s, IUI)
73. I’m Very Far Away (infertility, asia, failed treatment)
74. A little blog about the big infertility… And adoption too! (endometriosis, RPL, domestic adoption)
75. Waiting, Wishing, Hoping (life, pregnancy, infertility)
76. (In)fertility Unexplained (unexplained infertility, IVF)
77. Palm Trees & Rainy Days (ivf, pcos, childless)
78. The 2 Week Wait (infertility humor newborn)
79. Marriage 2.0 (adoption, infertility, waiting)
80. Life is Simple, It’s Just Not Easy (fet #1, post cancer, life)
81. The Perpetual Aunt (azoospermia, pcos, hcg injection)
82. Cotton Bottom Mama (eco-consciousness, family, crafts)
83. Searching for our silver lining (FET, life after loss, ttc#1)
84. Created Family (unexplained infertility, TCM, graduate school)
85. My Journey to Get Fit and Battle PCOS (IF, weightloss, life)
86. Waiting For Baby (pcos, military, infertility)
87. Holly’s narrative dream (life, secondary infertility, life)
88. The Handprints on my Heart (adoption, family, life)
89. Good Luck – Try Again (miscarriage, infertility, life)
90. A Woman My Age (adoption, infertility, parenting after 40)
91. The Childless Mom (ivf-icsi, fet, pregnancy #1)
92. MissConception (baby loss, FET, PCOS)
93. My Hormonacoaster (ttc 10+ years, secondary infertility, ivf#2)
94. Unruffled Lanie (infertility, IVF, home)
95. A Change of Plans (adoption, FETs, military)
96. Wanted: Family of Three (ivf, male-factor, music)
97. 3hearts2hold1love (parenting after infertility, secondary infertility, IVF with ICSI)
98. Something Out of Nothing (infertility, mfi, limbo)
99. Hapa Hopes (IVF, relationships, life)
100. Metholic’s Blog (bfp, ttc, infertility )
101. Alexander (baby after IF, joys, emotional)
102. trying to conceive (trying to conceive, if, emotional)
103. The misadventures of missohkay (adoption, pregnancy loss)
104. A Blanket 2 Keep (IUI, life, hope)
105. Infertility Unexplained (unexplained infertility, miscarriage, fet)
106. A Year On… Our New Beginning {hopefully} (stillbirth, secondary IF, IVF)
107. Traditionally Nontraditional (infertility, pregnancy, Life)
108. ErnieGirl (constant bleeding TTC#2)
109. From Gutter to Stars (new blog, therapist, infertility & adoption)
110. Carneyexploits (first IUI, pcos, life)
111. OperationBaby2012 (lesbian parenting, ttc, donor-selection)
112. GoTeamBaby (IVF, humor, hope)
113. DogMomChasingTheStork (infertility, travel, dogs)
114. Conceptionally Challenged (my life in general)
115. Hope Delayed (infertility, ivf #2, life)
116. Inconceivable! (donor egg, family, step-parenting)
117. Who Is This Fertile Myrtle (unexplained infertility ivf)
118. Our Journey (infertility pcos diabetes)
119. Our LIFE Journey (embryo adoption, FET, faith)
120. Embracing the Rain (ivf-icsi, rpl, dor)
121. The list is now closed.  The April list will open 3/29

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 green, the next month it will be yellow, 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.

Josh’s 40th birthday was coming up, and we had nothing planned to celebrate it which was stressing me out.  Josh said he didn’t really want to do anything, but 40 seems like too big a year to mark it with a card and a kiss.  I started throwing out ideas in the car one day a few weeks ago.

“What about a dinner party with our friends.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” responded Josh.

“What about a trip?  We could go somewhere.  Just us or with the kids.”

“We already have travel stuff planned.”

“What about strippers?  Cupcake party at work?  Visit to an art museum?  Community service project?”

“Community service project,” Josh mused.  “That sort of sounds cool.”

I’m going to admit this because I’m not as good a person as Josh, I threw it out there not expecting it to actually pass muster (strippers was also a you-better-not-choose-it option).  But the idea gained traction and invitations were sent out.  About 40 people from various places in Josh’s life all came together to paint the hallways of a transitional housing building.  People brought their kids, taped up the moulding and door frames, painted until everyone’s hair was splattered white, ate cake and pizza, and caught up on what has been happening in each other’s lives.

There are so few times in your life that you get to spend the day with all these unrelated people you love; have them all in one space, seeing them simultaneously.  Josh’s college friend was there — the one who married us — and he brought his kids, only one of whom was alive at the time of our wedding.  She was a tiny thing, dancing at our rehearsal dinner with our niece, and now she is this amazing twelve-year-old who was painting with us.  I remember her bouncing on the bed as a toddler while we planned out the wedding, and here she was — taller than me — painting the spaces I couldn’t reach.

Josh’s best friend from childhood was there along with her daughter, who is our daughter’s best friend.  We call the two girls the Yentas, because they like to just sit around and talk.  They each took a paint roller and covered the same patch of wall for ten minutes while they stood with their heads together, chit chatting.  And then one of them would realize that they needed to move a bit, so they’d shift down a few inches and cover a new swatch of wall space for another ten minutes.  One day the two girls will be grown up with their own children, who will hopefully be friends, and they will be able to say that their grandparents were best friends and they are best friends and now they are starting another generation of friendship.

Both sets of parents were there (I have great shots of my mother teaching the Wolvog how to use an edger).  And co-workers were there.  And friends we’ve known for decades and others for short periods of times.  And about dozen kids who painted or made snack bags for a local shelter.  It turned out to be one of my favourite days ever.

Everyone working in that transitional housing building has known and loved Josh for years.  He is an easy person to love, mostly because the birthday party sums up the sort of person he is.  He has an amazingly large heart, the sort who takes notice of those in need around him and does whatever he can to pitch in.  He doesn’t stand around waiting for change to occur; he rolls up his sleeves and makes it happen.  He’s funny, creative, and literally has the best bum I’ve ever seen on a man.

Happy 40th birthday, chamoodi-ji.  May the next 40 years pass as happily as these last ones; with good friends who have your back and a paint brush, who are willing to follow you on all your good ideas.  I am the luckiest woman in the world that I get to wake up every day with you and fall asleep in your arms at night (okay, so it’s more like I lie in your arms, you fall asleep, I stay awake worrying, and then I finally fall asleep two hours later).  I love you more than I can express with words, bake into a cake, or convey with a kiss; just know that you are deeply, deeply loved.

Massive thank you to Behrend Builders for planning Josh’s birthday celebration, THC for hosting us, the residents of the building who agreeably put up with my son’s 500 “wet paint” signs, and all of our friends and family who attended and worked hard (but who I didn’t picture here because I never asked you if you wanted to be part of a mushy blog post).

I wasn’t going to comment on the WSJ article about shared risk and fertility loan programs (and I certainly wasn’t going to touch the comments that came attached to that article).  I was feeling fairly dismissive about the whole piece, and then I spent my morning yoga class in “fire-breathing dragons” (okay, I lie, I put my knee down when the teacher wasn’t looking and picked it back up again when she swung by my mat) and perhaps I really did release the emotions I’m storing in my hip joints as my teacher promised the pose would because I spent the ride home fuming about an article that I had pretty much dismissed.

There will always be people who will profit off another person’s misfortune while they simultaneously provide the solution to that person’s misfortune.  My RE is both the greatest man in the world and a thief, taking much more of my money than he probably needs (really, an average salary is $225,185 per year) while helping to make my body do what it can’t do on its own.

My RE provides a service quite similar to my ophthalmologist, who helps me work around my wonky eyesight.  I take both doctors up on their offer to give me access to medical advancements.  There is, of course, the option to not treat my poor eyesight, though I’ve never heard someone tell me that I shouldn’t wear glasses nor have surgery to treat the problem.  That there are perfectly good sight dogs out there looking for a home, and I’m being selfish to put on glasses instead of using this other option.  Mostly because we all know that it’s not true.  Sight dogs need a home, yes, but we also know that there are long waiting lists to obtain a sight dog.  It isn’t easy, it isn’t a quick fix.  It’s a different option for treating sight issues, one that may be the only feasible option for some people whereas I have a multitude of options due to the severity of my sight issues.

It’s a poor analogy because children are not glasses or sight dogs.  They are human beings with very real feelings, and parents need to be mindful of ethics in order to lessen any emotional stress on the child they’re bringing into their life.  I’m being facetious though because where the general population can wrap their mind around the difficulty and need for treating sight issues, as well as leave the decision up to the person experiencing sight issues, the topic of fertility brings out people’s judgment.

Finances definitely played a role in the choices we’ve made concerning treatments, but that is more the case this time around vs. the first time.  Just as a cancer patient would pay any amount of money possible to save their life (and the saddest part is that the line of possibility is close in for the majority of Americans, meaning that those with money can afford to do more to save their life), I was willing to pay any amount of money that was within our realm of possibility in order to become a parent.  We had to have a limit because there were loans we could have gotten that we could have never paid off.  But within reason, we were willing to pay what we needed to pay.  And yes, some would say that infertility is lifestyle threatening and not life threatening, but I would challenge those people to step into the mind of someone truly depressed after failed cycle after failed cycle and then talk to me about the hidden dangers of infertility.  For me, infertility was life threatening.

So we paid a lot of money, and we were successful so it — of course — seems worth it.  Do I wish we didn’t have to pay that money?  Of course.  But I also wish I didn’t have to pay for glasses or pay for my cholesterol medication.  No one enjoys paying health care costs.

Two weeks ago, we were driving home at night and the ChickieNob told me that someone told her that I bought her.  She wanted to know if this was true.  I’m not sure who told her this, and she refused to tell me who said it, but it lit an inferno in my hip joints, enough to provide flames to a whole army of fire-breathing dragons.

I didn’t buy my children in the same way that a cancer patient doesn’t buy their life.  I paid for services from people who had expertise in their field, and I made that money by providing services to other people because I am an expert in my field.  It’s a circle of money, one that inexplicably has judgment intrenched in it when it passes through the fertility clinic yet doesn’t have that same judgment trailing after it when it went into my pocket as a teacher or writer.

Every single person who has a child has paid money to have that child.  If they didn’t pay it to the RE, they paid it to the OB/GYN.  They paid it to the hospital.  It may have been as small as a co-pay, or it could have been several thousand dollars.  But everyone pays.  So, if someone is going to say that I bought my children, then we all bought our children.

Do doctors benefit from treating our problem — hells yeah.  I found it a little rich that it said in the article that doctors had concerns about fertility loan companies considering the enormity of doctor’s salaries, which come from the cost of treatment.  Do loan companies benefit from treating our problem — hells yeah.  Every company is trying to turn a dime on the people they service: a loan company tries to make money off my problem, my insurance company tries to make money off my good health.  And perhaps that is why I am so enraged, my fire-breathing hips releasing all these toxins onto the Internet.  Because every word of that article was wrapped in judgment like a piece of bacon around a scallop* — seeping rich fat into every sentence.  Oily, greasy, heart-clogging fat.

Was I pissed off thinking about how my RE was going home to his mansion while we ate ramen in order to afford treatments to have a child?  Yes, but I’m equally pissed at the car my ophthalmologist gets to drive just because I can’t see well.  If we’re going to report on the hidden ways the medical community benefits from patients, let’s at least be fair and show how much money medical issues generate for others across the board.  If you’re only going to target fertility treatments, you’re going to get my fire-breathing dragon words.  And rather than simply report, why aren’t we working to actually find solutions in order to make treatments affordable to all people rather than allow fertility loan programs to thrive in this manner?

*I know — what was up with a non-kosher analogy?