My heart is still pounding after writing that last post. I just wrote that so quickly that it feels like I ran a couple of miles. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

One more write-up this week on varicocelectomies (thank you, Serentity) for Operation Heads Up. Keep them coming. We need someone to write one for IM injections. Come on, y'all know how to do them--now tell the newbies.

And in Blogland...

Tara at Plan B has a post that ties into what I was discussing yesterday--in or out. She outed herself, but talks about the regrets she has in putting it out there. If her Plan B works--which is surrogacy--she has everyone together celebrating from point one. She has a huge support system for the cycle. Her fear is that if this doesn't work, she will then be faced with a wave of people who all know her story. She writes: "Because then I am not sure I can bear what people will say. And it will make me want to hide all over again." The catch-22. It's a very interesting post that applies forward to other scenarios--to tell or not to tell once you become pregnant because of the chance that something could go wrong. You need the support, but you want to protect your heart. So what do you do?

Funnel your good wishes towards Solaris this month. She got the call and she's starting IVF #2. She is currently on her second round with infertility--10 years of trying brought her twin boys and she's now trying for a third (and perhaps I feel a kinship with her because we're in that same secondary IF boat). She has a funny post about the dates for this cycle--"I got the call on the boys 13 month birthday (note the 3), I would start my meds on my Hubbies birthday and the estimated transfer date is my birthday, which also happens to be Thanksgiving in Canada. Too many weird date things going on there we had to accept the cycle!" Which made me laugh because I had just been looking back through a journal and I had read an entry about whether or not to test on 13dpo because it was my birthday. And a negative would obviously make it the crappiest birthday in the world (it was a negative), but a positive would rock. And how we look at dates as signs. I cried so hard once during a cancelled cycle because CD1 was Halloween and I thought that must mean something. Head over to her blog and wish her luck because all signs point towards good things.

Ella at Nothing But Lemons (who I think is actually quite sweet--but I'm just buttering her up because she's going to do a write-up for me) had an interesting post about male vs. female reactions when you tell them about IF and asked essentially, "where's the sisterhood?" She was talking about those "catch-up" conversations you do with friends and how when you bring up miscarriages, infertility, treatments, etc. you can often get a better reaction from men who don't have a uterus that metaphorically aches than from women who should be able to put themselves into your shoes. I have to agree that the worst comments have often come from women. The lack of sympathy, the bad questions, or plain rudeness. Not that men have supplied more than a shoulder to cry against, but that is certainly preferable than the lack of reaction Ella received when she told a female friend. She asked if there could be a code of sisterhood that crosses between the Stirrup Queens and the non-infertiles so that we could be there for one another. I vote that we write this--the Uterine Manifesto. Anyone with fallopian tubes (or who had fallopian tubes) needs to adhere to this code of ethics that starts: first, do no harm. Oh...or that's the hippocratic oath. Well, we're borrowing it.

Sarah at Isn't This Supposed to be Easy had a terrible anniversary this week (these types of anniversaries need a different name since the word "anniversary" conjures up images of romatic dinners and champagne)--the one year anniversary of a miscarriage. I'm so sorry, sweetie. She discusses the phenomenon that seems to plague everyone who has gone through a pregnancy loss (or really, any type of loss). After the initial well-wishes, people forget. Or they remember, but they don't ask about it because they're scared to reopen wounds that they believe are healing. And this is the reality--for most people, talking about it doesn't reopen wounds. Their hearts are already bleeding even if it appears from the outside as if everything is fine. Talking about it does help the person grieve (even if it's as simple as sending them an email just to let them know that you're thinking about them) because they want to know that they don't carry the entire burden of remembering this little person who almost was. It's a huge responsibility to have, and we should help others shoulder that remembering. Let them talk about it. Ask them how they're doing (even a year down the line). Because everyone needs to have someone remember. And a simple public service announcement: it is so easy ask someone how they want to remember in the future when you're comforting them during the initial mourning process. And it's so easy to put a terriversary into your palm pilot and send a quick email to someone who needs it. So do it. Put down those terriversaries and let's help each other. Head over to her blog and remember with her even if you weren't there for the intial loss.