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 am beginning early with one of my New Year’s resolutions for this upcoming year: I am going to tell people how much they mean to me as often as possible. I am going to tell the people I love that I love them every chance I get and I am going to make sure that people hear me (or…I guess read…) describe why I think they are wonderful. And so I present Jodi.

Jodi lived here in D.C. for many years and I met her first through my cousin where she did volunteer work for my cousin’s programs. Later on, we realized that our lives were crossed via many mutual friends which means, of course, that our relationship was fate, kismet, meant-to-be.

Jodi now lives far away, but every once in a while, the phone rings without warning and she informs me that she is currently a few streets away and would I like to grab coffee. The answer is always yes. Getting that phone call from her is like finding a ten dollar bill tucked into the bottom of your wallet. Being with her is comfortable and comforting–we can always jump right back into the conversation we left behind a year or so earlier.

If you are not lucky enough to have met Jodi, the first thing you should know is that she is very funny in a dry sort of way. She is intelligent and funny, which is a fantastic combination. She is also sassy and Southern and can drink beer with the boys and spill out her feelings AND still save the world (she has one of those “save the world” sorts of jobs). She is, in a word, amazing. I am constantly worried that she will stop calling me when she comes into town because she often needs to endure my long lists of why she should move back to D.C. (on the list today: I will make her a Smith Island cake, I will take her with me to Shepherdstown, and she will be introduced to every Tim I ever meet).

While we were sitting at coffee, I asked her if she could be my show and tell tonight and she started laughing. I wish my camera worked faster because I didn’t really capture how deeply she laughs. I think her laugh is a sign of how deep her heart goes–that she can laugh with her entire body is a rare thing. This may not be the way she sees herself, but this is how I know her.

Isn’t she lovely?

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.

On Christmas Eve Day, I drove Josh to the metro in the morning and then returned home. As we turned on to our street, I could see four turkey vultures lined up on my neighbour’s porch. On closer inspection, I could see them everywhere–squatting on the roof, hanging out in trees. They were flying around my house lazily. It was ominous to say the least. And to be fair, the whole day went to shit.

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At night we went to see Milk. The movie made me cry so hard that I had a headache still on Christmas Day. The thought I kept returning to was when Milk was discussing how detrimental being in the closet was for the cause.

He argues that if people cannot put a human face to the issue, they can dehumanize it. It is too easy to be against something when you don’t have to see the grey; when you don’t realize that the thing you are against is tied to someone you love.

And at the same time, others call into question how you can feel comfortable leaving the closet when you know what you will lose. It is a terrible Catch-22: you cannot get rid of the hatred until everyone can attach a face and you cannot attach a face because of the intensity of the hatred. There is no good answer, especially when those who come forth can point backwards at the anger and misunderstanding and cruelty.

This is obviously close to my heart.

*******
Usually, I write about the best blog posts that I read in this space. Today, I want to speak about a blogger instead.

Emilie of Lemmondrops died on the 23rd at night. Writing that feels very surreal. I cannot begin to imagine what her husband, Steve, and boys are feeling. Her parents.

At the bottom of Emilie’s blog is a quote widget and as I write this, the quote reads: “a discovery is said to be an accident meeting a prepared mind.” When I first googled infertility blogs, it was a prepared mind searching for a somewhat accidental crash. And I discovered Soupy and Serenity and Emilie and Vee and LisaP. I found Cali’s old old blog and Manuela and Lyrehca and KatD and Flicka and Miss E. I found Kir and Bea and Teamwinks and Julie and Tertia. These were some of my first reads.

I often say that if I could have found an older high schooler’s diary back when I was a freshman, I probably would have had an easier time navigating high school; navigating those huge emotions; thinking I was the only one. And that is what blogs did for me when I was starting to fall into that black pit again and how can you ever say thank you enough for that?

I can’t believe I’m never going to see another post pop up in my reader, that I will never get another email. I just can’t believe that she’s gone. And what a huge loss for the whole world–that this amazing woman, this brilliant, funny, sensitive, thoughtful writer is gone.

A few months back, I highlighted one of her posts in the Roundup and I wanted to place it here again. It is even more bitter knowing the otherwise.

Lastly, Emilie at Lemmondrops first made me cry with the poem “Otherwise” (I literally couldn’t get through the first verse without crying as I read it aloud to Josh) and then this post. There are no good words. I just wanted her to know how much this post touched me and how it’s still making me cry as I write about it. Emilie was one of the first bloggers I read and her blog is at the top of my bookmarked list. So. I’m sorry, sweetie. I wish it were easier.

Rest easy, sweetie. Know how much you meant to so many people in this world–both people you knew face-to-face and the hundreds of people who read your writing daily and were touched beyond words.

I spent a month in Spain and I returned with two things (not counting the sinus infection and crippling addiction to Afrin): the right way to make cafe con leche and Befana Day.

In America, cafe con leche refers to adding warm milk to coffee. But if you have a perv-y enough barista who wants to talk about the fact that you’re reading Portnoy’s Complaint in his cafe, you can go behind the counter and learn how to brew coffee in milk much in the same way chai is tea brewed in milk. So I came home brewing my coffee in milk and making really fantastic cafe con leche which always impresses people when I make it for them.

The other thing I brought home was actually encountered for the first time in Italy but I celebrated it for the first time in Spain. The year before, I spent a month in Italy and was staying in Florence during Epiphania. I was staying in this fantastic 12th century palazzo overlooking the site where Dante’s wife was born. The tradition of this particular hotel was to have guests sign this huge guestbook with a small story about themselves and then you could read back who stayed in your room before you. We spent a whole night reading through stories as well as following the travels of this man, Matt, who stayed at the hotel every year and his search for love.

I googled him just now and couldn’t find him. I wonder if he’s happy.

Anyway, one night, we were reading the book and sitting with the owner’s daughter, discussing how to get to San Gimignano and she told us none of the trains would run on the day we were planning to go because of Befana Day. What is Befana Day, we obviously asked as Americans, and she told us this story:

Once there was a woman named Befana. She was cooking and cleaning and just trying to get through her day when three men came to her house and asked directions to Bethlehem. They told her that a baby had been born who was G-d in human form and they asked if she wanted to come with them to see the new baby. Befana said no because she thought she had already used up too much time giving them directions and she went back to her cleaning and cooking.

A little while later, she thought about how she had just missed this amazing opportunity because she had been so focused on this end goal of having the house clean and dinner cooked. She ran out of the house with her broom and apron and tried to find the three travelers (who were, of course, the three wise men). Befana still goes from house to house to this day, trying to find the baby and leaves gifts and candy at each house she visits.

Epiphany, or Befana Day, is celebrated even more than Christmas in Europe.

There is a second version of the story:

Befana was an old woman who was finally a mother after many many years of infertility. The king learned that a baby would be born who would be G-d in human form and he ordered all baby boys to be murdered. Her son was killed in front of her but in her grief, she refused to accept the loss. Instead, she piled together all the things she had made for him, all the hope she had infused into these tangible items while she waited for him, and went out wandering around the world with this sack on her back.

One night, she came to a manger and in her grief, she thought she had found her son who she believed to be lost rather than dead. She placed these items in the manger and the baby’s family saw how deeply this woman grieved from not having her child that they named her Befana, the giver of gifts and gave her a special blessing. One night out of the year, she is a mother to all of the children in the world. On that night, she travels from home to home, leaving presents for children, to remind them how much they are wanted.

The hotel owner’s daughter explained why her children’s shoes were set out in the hallway. They were waiting for Befana to come that night and leave them candy and presents. I asked her if she would leave me candy if I left my shoes in the hallway and she laughed for a long time and then said, “I don’t need another child. Get your own mother to leave you presents.”

The next year, I was in Spain during Epiphany with the same friend and I left candy in her shoes at night for her to find in the morning. And that was my first time celebrating Epiphany.

It may seem strange for an observant Jewish American woman to celebrate Epiphany each year, but I have celebrated it since that trip to Spain. At first, I gave candy to all of my students at school, leaving it on their desks instead of in their shoes. Once the twins were born, I would line up their Robeez in the hallway and leave them lollipops. This year, the ChickieNob pointed out that leaving candy inside shoes is sort of gross and that she would rather draw a picture of shoes on a piece of paper and place that outside her door in order to give Befana more room to leave her candy and presents.

The twins started asking about Befana Day back in October and have a long list of questions: how does she know which candy I like? can you send her an email? why does she only come when we’re sleeping? On January 5th, we’ll make a Tuscan meal of caramella pasta (which means “sweetie” in Italian) stuffed with balsamic soaked potatoes and a Befana cake (which is the European equivalent to the King cake) with an uncooked bean placed inside. And on January 6th, the twins will wake up to the toys we’ve been hiding in the dresser drawers and candy that I’ve been squirreling away for the occasion.

Why am I telling you all of this right now? Because it is your do-over if you need it. For a long time, my birthday each year was so crappy that we started counting my Hebrew birthdate as my do-over. So if I was disappointed with the day, I knew there was an “out,” a “do-over” for the holiday so we could try again. It took some of the pressure off the day.

Perhaps you are not celebrating Christmas the way you wanted to be celebrating. Perhaps the day sucks and you wish you were home alone or you had high hopes for the celebration but it’s turning out very different from what you planned. Know that January 6th is a do-over and it is technically the 12th night of Christmas therefore, it is still part of the holiday.

Merry Christmas on Thursday–much love and candy canes.

This is the 22nd 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:

How do you deal with a friend who needs more emotional support than you can give? I have a close friend, who I adore. She’s always needed quite a lot of emotional support, and I am more than happy to be there for her.

However, in the wake of my miscarriage, she doesn’t seem to recognize the fact that I don’t necessarily have that excess emotional energy to spare. In fact, last week, when I was doing a little better, she commented on that fact, and how great I was doing, and how fantastic that was because we’d need all our emotional energy for our next pregnancy. Needless to say, we are not doing so great.

I know she’s trying to be supportive in her own way, but it’s just really not working with our grieving process. I’ve pointed her at posts about loss and reactions to it; she knows about loss (though not miscarriage) from her own experience. I’ve told her that I don’t have the emotional energy to support and reassure her right now — and she insisted that she wasn’t asking for support or reassurance. Yet every time we talk, it’s the same thing over and over again.

I don’t want to cut her out of my life, or upset her, as she is someone that I adore when I have the energy to deal with other people *at all*, but I can’t keep doing this, and my attempts to get her to understand that have just forced her further into her own cave. How can I be good to myself, while still being a good friend?

–Anonymous

This is a problem with the limits of language more than the limits of your own patience or good-nature. You’ve described her as a “friend” which makes sense if the only three options are non-friend, acquaintance, or friend. But friend by its very definition requires a give-and-take with both parties having a “personal regard” for one another (thanks, Random House Dictionary). So your friend is not really a friend. She is a completely different, unnamed category. Therefore, I release you from applying the rules of friendship to your relationship.

Not convinced?

It is expected in all relationships that people will take turns having their needs met. There are times when you simply can’t be there for other people. I always liken being in crisis emotionally to a body being in crisis physically. When the body experiences hypothermia, it goes into safety mode which means that it redirects blood away from your limbs and to the vital organs. Emotionally, I think the same thing happens where we tunnel down into ourselves as a protective measure, redirect our energy away from limb-like elements such as friends, work, and hobbies and move our resources to the vital level–simply functioning and grieving and making it through the day.

I think it’s healthy to do this and natural to do this and it sounds like you are in a state of centering your energy right now. Just like the body that doesn’t get the message and keeps the blood pumping through those outer limbs, you stand a chance of suffering internal damage (or, in your case, emotional damage) that will require attention down the road. Taking this time for yourself may be the thing that saves you. Of course, you cannot stay in this state perpetually or your limbs will be lost (and by limbs in the emotional sense, I mean friends and work), but few people want to stay in this place indefinitely. I think our natural tendency is to move towards adapting through grieving. The timetable is unique to each person.

When I say that this state of emotional hypothermia saves you, I am also highlighting the difference between your state and your friend’s state. It sounds like she is operating in pseudo-emotional hypothermia. Meaning, the problem is that there isn’t necessarily a true problem but instead the problem is the fact that there is a created problem and a sense of comfort of being in a state of continuous emotional hypothermia. I liken this to a person who keeps walking on frozen lakes despite the fact they fall in from time to time. Yes, there is obviously a problem, but that problem is also somewhat of their own making which is a bigger problem than the problem itself.

It sounds like your friend likes being in a permanent state of emotional hypothermia not because she likes feeling those emotions, but because she likes whatever attention she receives from others due to her emotional fragility. Since you didn’t name her crisis in the post, I am going to assume that her “emotional hypothermia” is more akin to skinned knees in terms of direness. In turn, she needs to rush you through your healing process in order to have your attention and help returned to her problems, her needs, and her thoughts.

So what you really have on your hands is one person with hypothermia (you) and one person with some scraped knees (her) and the person with the superficial injuries telling the person in crisis to hurry up with those warming blankets because it is all about the state of her knee caps vs. your internal organs.

See, not really a friend.

But a person you love nonetheless. And who probably gives you love back when you’re not in a state of need (because when you’re focusing on her, she feels your love and can give it back to you). Who is great for a trip to the movies or a dinner party; who is your favourite person when it’s time to go shoe shopping. Which is why she needs a new title instead of “friend” because you do have a relationship, even if it isn’t a true friendship with give-and-take and support built into the definition.

Let’s call her a “mend”–a movie-friend–which will be easy to remember because she is also someone who doesn’t like it when you have a need to mend.

So now you have non-friends, acquaintances, mends, and friends. And just as you apply different rules to how you treat and what you give your acquaintances vs. friends, you need to come up with a set of guidelines that feel comfortable to you in regards to your mends. Perhaps you need to allow your body to fully enter that emotional hypothermic state and doing so means holding all acquaintances and mends at arm distance for a bit. Without guilt because doing so is about protecting you and honouring your process.

And the fact is, mends have a chance to become friends just as acquaintances do. It is contingent on many factors, but also the energy they invest in the relationship. Not all mends have the desire or ability to raise themselves up to that next level–but that is not the focus right now. You can’t help other people navigate
friendships when you are grieving just as your body cannot take care of your limbs when you’re in crisis. Allow yourself to reframe this relationship for what it is in this moment with a promise to deal with turning the mend into a friend when blood is free to flow again.

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 send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

I have a brilliant idea. You know how there is this huge 12 month lag between gift giving holidays? One comes and then it’s gone and you need to wait another 12 months to get presents again.

This holiday season, give the gift of knowledge and information: preorder Navigating the Land of If: Understanding Infertility and Exploring Your Options and send the person a card letting them know you sent the gift. They get the joy of knowing a gift has been purchased for them AND the additional joy of having it arrive at the beginning of summer. It’s really two gifts in one.

Plus, it would be rockin’ if I sold out of the first print run before the book even when on shelves. Makes a strong argument for the fact that there are over 7.3 million of us–biologically or situationally infertile.

It’s just a holiday thought.

Subtle? No?

But have you checked out the book’s site?