You know how tearing off a band-aid is supposed to make it hurt less? I think I employed a similar technique to reading this memoir, sitting with it for two straight days to finish it quickly. Because it was so damn painful. It was also beautiful and eye-opening and moving and even, once in a while, funny. I read a lot of passages aloud to Josh, which, to me is a sign of the quality of writing in the book. The words were meant to be released from the page, in fact, the reader could not help but read them aloud.

On pages 79-80, McCracken speaks of losing a friend after Pudding’s death. I was struck by the way she wrote this passage because it clearly expresses her feelings about the conflict and about her former friend, replacing the silence that she used to break off the friendship (I suspect the friend in question has read the book by now). Have you lost friends during or after your infertility/loss/adoption? If so, how much of the blame for the loss do you place on communication and/or miscommunication? Does your former friend know how you feel about him or her and the loss of his or her friendship?

We formally only lost one friend and I always thought it was due to infertility–it was certainly their insensitivity that broke the camel’s back–but in speaking with them in passing this year, I wonder if we were just looking for an excuse to break ties with them. The husband is a cruel person in general and his wife is unfortunately sucked into his orbit.

Our former friend doesn’t know how we feel at all and I’ve often wondered why she hasn’t asked or pushed it. We are obviously still friends with other mutual friends (we saw them, for instance, at a mutual friend’s house) which should give them some indication that it’s them and not circumstances. In other words, there are people that we don’t see often not for any reason other than time and distance. But these people still see us with our mutual friends.

I wonder if she doesn’t ask because she secretly knows the answer.

I understand the author’s need to let us know at the beginning of the book that she had another (live) child. Generally, I liked her matter of fact tone and writing style. However, I sometimes felt like I was missing some of her raw emotions about the loss. She rushed over the first few months after the loss and hurried towards the second pregnancy, writing about the affect that the loss had on their lives through that second pregnancy. This could be because she did not want to dwell on it, or because she did get pregnant again so fast (within a year). I wondered what it would have been like to read the book not knowing about her successful second pregnancy (if that was even possible to separate out from the loss). Did you find that it took something away from the way you took her loss or took her book as a whole?

We’ve had a question similar to this with other books we’ve read: did knowing the final outcome make you read the book differently. Infertility and loss books tend to be written by those who are in a different emotional space–usually holding a child. I think some of that is because when you’re in the middle of the crisis, you’re not using your energy to try to understand the experience or explain it to others. You’re using your energy to breathe, put one foot in front of the other, keep moving. It’s only when you’re out of the crisis that you can begin to process what happened, set it down in words.

Of course, being out of the crisis of loss or infertility doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re holding a child. Joan Didion wrote a gorgeous book about loss (albeit a spouse) that is simply about loss. She isn’t in a different space in terms of situation though she was in a different space emotionally when she began writing the book.

I think the big difference is that time and resolution gives you the ability to look at the world with distance And books so seeped in emotions, the hurt of the experience, are difficult to read because they’re not accessible to the reader. They’re too personal. They’re too narrow. I think if she tried to write it while she was in the first days of grief, we would have a book about her grief. But, with that distance, she was able to write a book about her grief and have it speak in a larger sense to all grief.

So how to blogs differ? I think it’s mostly due to the brevity of the post. A book drags you in and keeps you in for a long period of time and if the author doesn’t speak outwardly towards the audience, they keep the reader ensconced in their own story rather than allowing their story to be a springboard to the reader exploring their own thoughts. With a blog post, the writing can be inward but length provides a cliff for the reader to run and jump off. Does that make any sense?

There are obviously books out there (Didion’s, for instance) where there isn’t a “happy ending.” I think McCracken could have written a book without having a baby. But she would have needed a level of resolution and perspective to convince the publisher that it was about the author and reader simultaneously rather than being just about the author. Unfortunately, I think publishers–like so much of the greater public–equate a baby with closure and a lack of baby with a lack of closure. Which isn’t the case.

Have you ever wished that someone wrote the book on the “lighter side of losing a child” (or IF, loss, insert your situation here)? Have you ever found that book? Have you found it in a blog? How have you used humor to work through times of grief?

Humour is such a hard line to walk. Of course it helps with the processing of the experience. For instance, I read A Little Pregnant, which I think of as one of the most humourous blogs out there and I think it walks on the same side of the line that McCracken successfully walks: it is funny without losing the weight of the experience. You do not think either author is making fun or dismissing emotions, but instead, there is a wistfulness; a feeling that if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry; a head nod to the ridiculousness of life.

On the other hand, I have read a book that was presented as a “lighter side of infertility and loss” book and it crossed that line from laughing with me to feeling like it was laughing at me. I felt like the author was completely dismissing the range of emotions inherent in infertility and pushing this one note. If you’re in the mood for that one note, it can be interesting to hear. For a bit. If you’re not in the mood for that one note, it can be grating and insensitive. The whole message I took from that book was “it’s no big deal.”

I think the point is that humour only works when the person isn’t trying. When humour is a natural extension of their being. Julie’s wryness and McCracken’s humourous moments can’t be borrowed. Either you express yourself well and can use humour to add depth or it becomes the opposite–a painful exercise that ends up pushing away the reader. McCracken does lightness very well because it is always balanced on the other side with the weight of the situation. I wouldn’t necessarily want to see someone without that level of skill try to balance the subject matter.

Jump along to other blogs discussing An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by scrolling up to the post above this one. Join along for our next book: Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro.

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.

I had my feelings hurt by Facebook. Namely, a friend request I sent out this week. I will preface this by saying that I have no problem with someone not accepting my friend request–after all, I don’t accept a friend request if I can’t identify the person and they haven’t given me anything to go on such as their blog name–OR asking me how we know each other when I haven’t sent an additional message with the friend request. People get married and change their name, people need their memory jogged–I’m happy to do that.

But.

This week I added someone that I was friends with for six years and when I say “friends” I mean that he is in every damn photo album I own from 1992–1998. I even spent my very last night at college with him (okay, and with a large group of other people, but his arm is around me in dozens of pictures from that night). And the kicker was that once I added him, I told Josh this story about how he frustrates me and Josh asked why I added him and I admitted that I saw he lived near another friend of mine and I wanted to introduce them and this seemed like the easiest way.

So I sent the friend request along with a short note stating that it’s me, Melissa, from college. My maiden name and the college we attended. And he writes back, “how do we know each other?” How do we know each other? I yanked out a bunch of photo albums and showed them to the twins, placing Dan the Forgetful Man on trial. “Evidence A: my 21st birthday! Evidence B: some random night at Canterburys! Evidence C: somewhere on State Street!” At the end of presenting my evidence, I asked the twins if he was guilty of being a jerk and they replied yes. So, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it.

Seriously, I can understand a person I dated for three months my freshman year forgetting me, but someone that I saw daily for four years and kept in touch with for several years post college? I’ve been to more schools than him–that means I have more people to juggle in my head. And I can remember him.

I would have been totally fine if he had just ignored the friend request and we both went on our merry way. Admittedly, I probably wouldn’t remember after a day or two that I sent it so we all could have walked away happy. But now he has made me wonder why someone is so sticky for me when I am so forgettable to them–and how you can be that forgettable after spending six years of your life being friends with someone. Sniff.

I wrote him back and said, “my mistake.” Even though I knew it wasn’t a mistake because I could see quite clearly from his icon picture that it is him.

So my Show and Tell this week are some pictures of me from back in college and grad school because I thought I should probably put them on Facebook and rotate them as my profile picture to jog the spotty memories of people like Dan the Forgetful Man.* My apologies–they are photographs of photographs because I don’t have access to a scanner today.

From college–as you can see, the squash blossoms were a hairstyle I enjoyed back then as well. When the twins saw this picture they said, “oh! That’s Lollipop Goldstein!”

In one of my offices during grad school. I somehow ended up with three offices–one that I requested in the library, and two that I was assigned in separate buildings. This was my least favourite one, but I really like this photo because it was taken on the day that I discovered the Catholic center on campus served vegetarian corn chowder daily and I began getting it for lunch several times a week. The chowder is not visible in this photo, but it still remains in my heart and probably my arteries. I didn’t have short hair, but it was tied back in a bun in this picture. But I like that it looked like I had short hair. Does that make sense?

*I know this is the first time it happened and more often than not, I reconnect with the person and we both exchange a few emails and are happy to catch up. But still, this one hurt. Especially because he also ate my bowl of green tea ice cream at my 21st birthday. Bastard.

What are you showing today?

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

Setting the scene for you:

It’s the second to last week of camp. The Barren Babes are standing on the porch of our cabin, knee socks yanked up to maximum height, ribboned pigtails swinging in the breeze, our sneakers festooned with colourful laces. We’ve kicked ass in the pool, kicked ass in the rope climb, kicked ass in the sing-along competition. We’ve shaving creamed our team name across the pavilion in front of the mess hall. Oh, yeah, and we’ve won the Weblog Awards.

To everyone who is stopping by from the Weblog Awards, allow me to introduce you to our team. We’re 1600+ completely rockin’ men and women who are all writing about our experience with biological or situational infertility. You can find our blogroll here.

Thank you to all the people who voted. Thank you to the people who asked their friends to vote or who Twittered it, Facebooked it (that verb again!), or blogged it. I am so incredibly thankful to be part of this community. And…at the risk of becoming weepy…I just want to tell you how much I love you. This really meant a lot to me.

While we wait for the Weblog Award votes to be tallied (the final outcome will be posted tomorrow morning), two stories.

Getting back in touch with people via Facebook has reminded me of my favourite mistaken identity story. During college, I was friends with a man who is apparently far too google-able to write out his name here but all we need for this tale is that his last name contains the word “hip.”

I thought I saw him standing on Library Mall, holding his bike, so I walked up to him and when I was right behind him, I attempted to scare/surprise him by screaming his name and then saying these incredibly cool words: “you’re my fucking hippie hippie hipster!”

The man turned around and was not said friend, but that wasn’t the embarrassing part.

At that moment he turned around, a huge gust of wind occurred, blowing my Urban Outfitters baby doll dress (this was college in the early 90s) over my head so that as he turned, he was staring at a woman who was flashing her mismatched bra and panties at him while trying to push down her dress.

This would have been a good enough ending if the same thing hadn’t happened again two years later.

Having not learned as a sophomore not to wear baby doll dresses, I wore one for a performance that required a black dress and black tights. There was only one dress rehearsal and it was directly before the performance and we weren’t really moving through the steps insomuch as making sure everyone knew their cues. I noted that my dress was shorter than most of the other girls but was probably fine.

The performance was luckily being video taped and I was able to get a copy of this tape. This is what you see: I’m singing the Gershwin song: “I’m dancing and I can’t be bothered now. I’m dancing and I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan’t, caaaaaaaaaaaaaaan’t be bothered now!” Step, kick, and twirl and twirl and my dress is over my armpits, the audience is gasping at my black bra and panties, I am twirling, my partner dips me, and….scene.

Afterwards, my friends and I stood around awkwardly until one boy finally said, “well, at least you wore that really good black push-up bra tonight.”

This is the 24th installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

I am writing to ask about IUI along with Clomid. Does this ever work for anyone? My fertility doctor recommends a few attempts with this approach, but she says it has a 5% chance of working, which is less than the standard statistic of 10% per month for a woman over 35. In my quick review of the blogs on your blogroll, none of them were successful with this approach, only with IVF. Our insurance does not cover any fertility treatments, so we’d rather not waste $ and time on a 5% chance!

–Anonymous and Blogless

If your doctor told you that you would have a 5% chance doing IUI with Clomid, a 10% chance doing IUI with Follistim, a 30% chance doing IVF, a 60% chance doing IVF with donor gametes, and a 99% chance doing adoption*, it would make the most sense to go with adoption. Except that you want to experience pregnancy so then it would make the most sense to go with IVF and donor gametes. Except that you’d like a genetic connection to the child you’re carrying which means you should do IVF. Except that you’re paying out of pocket for every procedure, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense to start with the most expensive so you drop back down to the IUIs and…well…you’re back in square one staring at the statistics again.

The problem with success rates is that (1) you don’t know which side of the percentage you’re going to fall until you do the procedure therefore, looking at them is a lot like gambling and (2) success rates are not one-size-fits-all. You may have a 5% chance of an IUI with Clomid working, but another person may have a 30% chance of the same procedure working. Therefore, I throw all numbers out the window when making a decision because they’re meaningless. Instead I look at the overarching facts associated with each procedure and what problems it can and cannot compensate for or overcome.

I’d look at diagnosis and age as your determining factors. IUI is great for a number of problems including mild male factor (not azoospermia), absence or acidic cervical mucous, and the ever dreaded diagnosis of unexplained infertility. It is not great for egg quality issues, high FSH, or uterine anomalies (though IVF can’t overcome some of these issues either). This doesn’t mean that IUI doesn’t work if you have egg quality issues, but what I’m saying is that it isn’t a procedure that is meant to circumvent that problem. Therefore, I’d take a look first at your diagnosis and consider whether or not IUI is being thrown at the problem because it’s less expensive but it isn’t truly the best fix.

The other thing I’d look at is age. I’m assuming from the wording of the question that you’re over 35. What you would try if you were 25 is very different from what you’d try at 35, especially if you would like to have another child after the one you are trying to conceive. How aggressive I’d be would depend on how far over 35 you are (40? I probably wouldn’t spend a lot of time with IUI. 36? I may give it more consideration) as well as the hormone levels on your day 3 blood work.

I think one problem is that the choices aren’t (or shouldn’t be) just IUI with Clomid or IVF. You could try a few combinations of injectable drugs with IUI, for example. Even with IVF, there are a multitude of protocols your doctor could follow–some more aggressive and more expensive than others. The protocol is chosen based on a host of factors.

I feel for you because we don’t have coverage either so almost everything is out of pocket. You don’t want to spend more than you have to and you don’t want things to be more invasive than necessary. But at the same time, you don’t want to waste time.

I guess this is the analogy I would use for making the decision. You dated a lot of people (I’m assuming) before you met your partner. And those past relationships not only gave you information that made your current partnership more successful, but they also were educated tries along the way. If you had known they wouldn’t work out, you probably wouldn’t have spent the time just as if you know a procedure won’t work out, you probably don’t want to spend the time (and money). But every cycle gives your doctor more information–from how your body responds to drugs to how your uterine lining grows. And that information may be what makes your first IVF successful vs. gathering some of this information with your first IVF cycle before you go on to the next one. Every relationship gives you information too–so those old relationships that didn’t work out weren’t truly a waste of time.

In other words, it is the difference between dating around with low stakes rather than jumping straight into marriage with the first person you meet and either having it work out or having to go through a messy divorce.

I will state this clearly here: sometimes, you don’t have a choice with what you try first because diagnosis dictates a clear-cut solution (or a best solution). It sounds as if the playing field is open to you because you don’t have a diagnosis that points in a single direction. Therefore, I’d always choose low-key over invasive. You may hear from people below that they have regrets that they tried the IUIs because they didn’t work or you may hear from people who are ecstatic that they tried IUIs because they did work. Either way, their experience is their experience and not a prediction of your experience. You may not have regrets if you have some IUIs that don’t work if they streamline your first IVF cycle. Or you may have regrets if you have limited funds and you spend them on something that has a lower success rate (IUI almost always has a lower success rate than IVF).

Regardless, it’s a decision you’re going to have to make because it is a very personal decision but my advice is to always take the path where you’ll have the least regrets while, at the same time, holding yourself in check with the regrets department by remembering that a negative cycle doesn’t always mean a waste of time.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to sen
d in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

*all success rates are fictional. True success rates are based on a plethora of information and aren’t one size fits all.