The wishes on 11/11 were some of the most moving comments I’ve ever read.  I started crying a few wishes in.  I’m very hormonal this week, but it was also so hard to read the heart placed in the open.  Like all of the linking things, I realized too late that if I threw my wish in there, it would screw up the chain.  So my wish is that I come home safely from this trip and that I get through it with few tears.  This is my last time I have to travel and I keep focusing on Sunday.  Returning to my home.

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My travel saga from last weekend (as opposed to my current travels this weekend) ended with a packed Amtrak train and three hours with nothing to do except listen to the two men behind me because I had to hold all my things on my lap and therefore couldn’t take out the papers I needed to edit.

I was seated in front of two men who were discussing their “little fellow.”  I assumed for the first sixteen minutes or so that they were talking about a child.  Then, one of them said, “do you remember how little his tail was when we first got him?”  And suddenly, Little Max, sounded like either one of the Illuminati or an animal.  It became clear a moment later–when one mentioned how Little Max cries with meows whenever the man eats tuna–that the son they had been discussing for 22 full minutes is a cat.  Across the aisle was the nail clipper and next to me was this kind woman who offered me her kiwi slices who went through half a bottle of hand sanitizer on the trip.  She washed her hands every time I coughed, even though she wasn’t touching anything and finally built a newspaper wall between us.  The newspaper wall sort of closed off any more offerings of kiwi slices.

I think I’m the type of person who is meant to be home.  My friend, Anat, is someone who is meant to travel and life (like paying a mortgage) gets in the way and keeps her from exploring.  I’m someone who is meant to spend her life baking brownies.  At home.

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In case you couldn’t actually picture how the Golden Haiku will work (since it is different and more far-reaching than the Creme de la Creme), I’m showing the lobby map that will be the doorway to the list.

The day the list goes up, those individual states will be linked to an umbrella category of the blogosphere.  The reader will jump to a room that contains all the blog posts that fit in that topic.  It’s essentially what Bridges tried to do, but more a burst of information than a slow reveal over time.

Those in the ALI community can participate in both the Creme de la Creme AND the Golden Haiku.  Those outside our community can only do the Golden Haiku.  The two lists will go up two weeks apart from one another.  The Creme is much more surprise-oriented, where you get to see how your post is described.  The Golden Haiku is more more doorway-oriented, with the idea being to build entrances into each area of the blogosphere that people can easily walk through.

You can submit the same post for both projects, or if you’re deciding between two posts, consider which one you’d rather have read within our community and which one you’d rather send out to the general public.  But please do participate in both projects.

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Last week, I didn’t get a chance to enter the winning squares from Blogger Bingo.  The winner, in case you didn’t see, was Once a Mother.  She won with a yellow card:

• Free Space–a post that mentions a recipe.
• Post from before 2008 that mentions a recent purchase.
• Post that has song lyrics from April or May of 2008.
• Post from any September that mentions a restaurant.
• Post that mentions a spouse, partner, or friend from December 2007.

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Favour: you can vote once a day, and it’s literally a click over, hit a vote button, and you’re done, but Lauren is trying to become the new face of E.L.F.  She doesn’t have a modeling background and she hasn’t been airbrushed or worked on.  She’s just a real woman who could be your neighbour who wants to spread the idea of healthfulness.

She writes: “I am a real woman. Period. No fake parts, no fillers. I was the fat kid.”  Wouldn’t she be a great person to inspire?  She already jumped up to the top 300 people in the past few days.  Can’t we give her some votes?

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The Weekly What If: If you could have an article written about you or your picture featured in any magazine, which one would it be?

Mine would, hands down, be People Magazine.  That’s when I’ll know I’ve made it.  When I’m in People.  I am such a lover of that magazine.

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And now, the blogs…

Birds and Squirrels has a post about turning 35.  I turned 35 this year, so the feelings are still fresh in my mind, but beyond the AMA, she is discovering that she cares about how her body is changing.  She writes, “It disturbs me that I am starting to care about these things. I’ve always wanted to be one of those sassy, vibrant, kick ass women who grow old unapologetically, that are still out digging in their gardens in their 80’s, and traveling to new and strange places until the very end. I have a feeling that those women don’t worry about dry skin, fine lines and gray hairs.”  But more importantly, she asks for a birthday gift that all of us can give her: “What I would like is for someone to sit with me and remind me of all the beautiful things that getting older brings, none of which I can think of right now.”  Even though her birthday has passed, please go over there and tell her your words of advice.  And if you have no advice, at least compliment her on the great post and wish her a happy belated birthday.

Magpie Musing has a post about the word “stigma” in conjunction with infertility.  She points out how often this word is used, how it doesn’t quite fit the definition of stigma, and asks why infertility is a taboo topic, especially when so much can be gained by talking about it.  An inspiring post.

Trying to Get Knocked Up By Another Man has a post titled “Wind.”  It is a gorgeous, moving post that begins with her egg donor, a friend, who she describes as this: “And in one of my darkest moments when I couldn’t see any light, she brought some to me. She brought light to my future.”  She goes through her fears about this cycle, the guilt, the whirlwind of thoughts about whether they should proceed.  And then, as she says, the wind stops and there is calm.  I just thought this was such an incredible post about doubt and finding the strength to keep going.

Lastly, Infertility UGH has a post about her mother’s tendency to gossip and why she is holding her at arm’s length.  I love this post because it is about accepting someone for who they are and loving them, and at the same time, knowing someone so intimately that you have to hold them at arm’s length to protect your heart.  It’s complicated and messy and the post literally aches a bit, but it is also brilliantly stated.

The roundup to the Roundup: I loved the wishes.  You can learn a lot on a train when you eavesdrop.  Join along for the Creme de la Creme and the Golden Haiku.  Blogger Bingo winning posts.  Vote for Lauren!  Answer the Weekly What If.  And lots of great blog posts to read.

Show and Tell is wasted on elementary schoolers. Join several dozen bloggers weekly to show off an item, tell a story, and get the attention of the class. In other words, this is Show and Tell 2.0. Everyone is welcome to join, even if you have never posted before and just found out about Show and Tell for the first time today. So yank out a photo of the worst bridesmaid’s dress you ever wore and tell us the story; show off the homemade soup you cooked last night; or tell us all about the scarf you made for your first knitting project. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.

Let’s begin.

Wishes for 11/11 certainly aren’t closed, keep adding them, but it’s time for Show and Tell too.  Class, come to order.  You, in the back, spit out your gum.

This week, Serenity was in town, so Somewhat Ordinary (she’s invite only) came up and Lindsay and I went downtown (well, I went downtown later and only joined the threesome for lunch).  It was chaotically wonderful, especially because the last time I saw Serenity, she hadn’t conceived Owen yet and Lindsay wasn’t parenting (despite reading Somewhat Ordinary since her blog began years ago and despite the fact that we live somewhat close-ish, this was our first time getting to actually be face-to-face!).  And it just amazes me what can happen in two years.

On a different blogger note, Kristin told me to expect some packages in the mail and I was a little confused.  When they arrived, I opened them and started crying at the generosity.  Kristen, Cassandra, Wiseguy, Dora, and Mrs. Spock put together a package of holiday ornaments.  My kitchen table was covered in a sea of blue.  Thank you so much–this meant the world to me.

What are you showing today?

Click here or scroll down to the bottom of this post if this is your first time joining along (Important: link to the permalink for the post, not the main url for your blog and use your blog’s name, not your name. Links not going to a Show and Tell post will be deleted). The list is open from now until late Friday night and a new one is posted every week.

November 11th.  11/11.

Make a wish.

Here’s how this works: (1) Make a wish in the comment section (and don’t believe that stuff about how if say it aloud it won’t come true.  That is precisely when the parts that are within another human being’s control can come true).  (2) Then leave a comment on the blog of the commenter directly before you (so it’s a chain.  #2 comments on #1, #3 comments on #2, etc. If the commenter above you didn’t leave an address, just go one above that.  The point is to find new blogs/leave a comment–not stress).

The first person who comments on this post gets a free ride and does not need to leave any comments.  The last person who comments on this post gets…screwed.

It would be nice within your comment to refer to their wish (if it ties in to the post you read and comment on) and if you can grant any part of it, to do so.  If you can’t, because their wish is outside of human control, don’t feel badly.  But if you have the power to grant a wish, why not do it?

Remember how I forgot to pack pants?  And how I accidentally enlarged the font on my computer?

Yesterday, I was having lunch with Somewhat Ordinary, Serenity, and Lindsay and we took a picture before we had to leave.  Lindsay uploaded hers to Facebook and I commented on how terrible my boobs looked (all I could think of was how Sunny at the cookie exchange next month would be telling me once again that we needed to do something with my bra situation).

I called a friend last night and bitched about how I had bought three of these new bras and they were already terrible.  This morning, I grabbed one and decided to tighten the straps the final centimeter–as tight as it would go–and put it on.  And my boobs fell out.

And I realized that I had been loosening the straps.

Not tightening them.

A quick yank in the other direction gave me nicely perky boobs.

Reason #2067040 why you wouldn’t want me doing brain surgery on you.  Reason #2067039 is the fact that I don’t have a medical degree.  But #2067040 is my inability to properly operate a bra.

No, I didn’t just do a secret cycle.  We’re still poor and still on the fence about when to return to treatments.

A woman named Lynsee just gave birth online and I didn’t watch. Perhaps it is a testament to how greatly I’m affected by the stories of loss I’ve read, but knowing what can go wrong in birth, I didn’t want to witness a live-feed of emotional anguish. Also a testament to how greatly influenced I am by my own story and those of others in the community, knowing what can go right in birth, I didn’t want to witness their enormous joy knowing how out-of-reach it is for 7.3 million Americans.

In a day-and-age where we obsess over celebrity pregnancies, magazines hold polls over who will become pregnant next, and organizations pay millions of dollars for first baby photos, it was never too far a jump to get to a live-feed of a birth (as opposed to a taped birth). Essentially, it’s just reality television on the Web. And just as we follow the stories of musical contestants or weight loss achievers week after week, it makes sense that people would be interested in the constant updates from conception to birth from just your average, American, knocked-up girl. Lynsee didn’t just aim a camera at her vagina the day of the birth (actually, I don’t know if people were actually able to see the baby crown. As I said, I didn’t watch it, but I have to imagine that the vulva would be the most interesting location to observe during a birth). She roped in viewers by covering every small detail of her pregnancy in blog posts leading up to the event.

It’s the ultimate in reality television interaction. Viewers could subscribe to be part of her group and chat with her DURING THE DELIVERY. Did I have to scream that? Perhaps, and again, this is a testament to how greatly I’m affected by the loss blogs I read, but could you imagine the emotional implications for Lynsee if birth had not gone according to plan? If she had fallen on the other side of the statistics? I am trying to imagine even my twins’ premature birth being played out over the Web and having viewers at home IMing me unhappy faces when the doctor announces their low birth weight. How I would feel to read newspaper articles written after the fact and blog posts? It’s one thing for people to comment on my commentary. It’s quite another for them to be witness to this intimate event.

But taking that into account, isn’t the next frontier a live-feed of fertility treatments?  Especially since we’re so obsessed over which celebrities have used them to build their families?

Watch our hypothetical blogger, Sarah, start injecting lupron. Watch her flip out on her partner via a Web cast and then sink down onto the kitchen floor sobbing from the hormones. Watch her nurse a nasty headache and beat herself up over drinking a cup of coffee. Watch her go in for a lining check and follicle scan, watch the sonographer make an off-colour joke while he has a camera in her vagina. Watch her opening the clinic bills and sitting on hold with the insurance company for 38 exciting minutes! Watch Sarah give herself injections directly into her stomach until it resembles a milky way constellation only marred by bruises that she counts as black holes.

Watch Sarah go for the egg retrieval and learn they got 24 eggs. Watch her get the fertilization report that only 10 fertilized. Watch her cry when she gets the phone call that through additional attrition, those 10 embryos are down to 4. Watch her experience mild OHSS! Watch her return to the clinic for the transfer and find out that they only have two decent-looking embryos to transfer and nothing currently left to freeze due to fragmentation. Watch her drive home from the transfer staring out the window completely numb.

Watch our intrepid Sarah go through bedrest, standing in front of pregnancy tests in the store and willing herself not to buy them, and returning to the store and purchasing three different brands of tests and a Snickers bar. Watch Sarah receive a pregnancy announcement via email complete with sonogram picture. Watch her lean over the bed so her partner can inject PIO into her ass (okay, it’s more her hip, but we’ll call it her ass because it will bring more viewers). Watch her attempt to massage out the PIO lumps. Watch her wake up at 4 a.m. and use one of her pregnancy tests only to see a stark white space where the additional line should be. Watch her chuck this pee-soaked test in the trash can and then fish it out five minutes later to check again. Watch her sit through a baby shower, unable to drink because she might be pregnant but unable to get through the event without a strong gin and tonic. Watch Sarah go in for that final blood draw, unable to give up hope that she might get a good beta despite the negative pregnancy tests at home.

Watch Sarah wait until 4:31 p.m. for the phone call telling her that all of her work was for naught.

Maybe that’s why we’ll stop at obsessing over which celebrities utilize IVF instead of setting up reality television shows in clinics. Because the reality is that treatments are depressing. Even when they work, those pregnant don’t instantaneously release their breath. Assisted conception isn’t the Lynsee-like joy of going to doctor’s appointments and picking out nursery colours. It’s about holding on to something tenuous. And when they don’t work, it’s about anguish and frustration and anger and future hope.

Personally, I think an assisted conception live-feed would be even more meaningful considering the stakes. Considering what it took to get there and the viewpoint of the pregnant woman. Of seeing the larger forest of childbirth and family building beyond the initial trees of sex=baby.

But perhaps the general public isn’t ready for that yet.

Cross-posted with BlogHer.