My kids don't...(try not to gasp when you read this)...go to preschool. This somehow marks me as a freak and people gently broach the topic with me as if I've announced that I've decided to stop all medications needed to control a disease. The question comes up every time I encounter a group of parents--at a social gathering, at a board meeting, at synagogue. Here is how the conversation sounds:

Woman 1: So, how old are your kids?

Me: They're 2 1/2.

Woman 1: Oh, where do they go to preschool?

Me: Actually, they're at home.

Woman 1: Are you waiting until they're three?

Me: No...we're not sending them to preschool.

Woman 1: (a look of confusion crossing her face as if I've told her that we constantly brain our children while they're eating their morning yogurt) Ever?

Me: We may do a part-time program when they're four or we may skip it altogether.

Woman 2: Are you homeschooling them? Is it for religious reasons? My sister-in-law's best friend's sister did something like that in their cult in Tennessee.

Me: No, it's not for religious reasons. We just want them at home.

Woman 3: What do you do all day?

Me: Well, tomorrow we're going to the library to pick out new books and play with some of their toys. I don't really know what we do all day. We hang out. We colour. We bake cookies.

Woman 1: That sounds...interesting. Aren't you worried that your kids won't be able to get into a good school?

Me: A good college?

Woman 1: No, a good kindergarten.

I hate the fact that people look at me strangely when I talk about wanting my children at home. I hate when they shake their heads knowingly and say, "oh, when they hit two or three or four, you'll want them out of the house." I hate that they make me feel like I'm clingy and possessive if I want to be the person who teaches my children shapes and numbers.

It is possible to be standing in a large group of mothers and feel very much alone.

Today we took my son to be evaluated for the three-year-old speech program through the county. He has been receiving speech therapy via home services for the past year though that program only runs until age three. After that, all children go to sites inside the local elementary schools.

It looks like an ordinary classroom complete with a play kitchen and blocks and puzzles. He immediately jumped into playing with one of the speech therapists while I spoke to the other one about the program. Everything was sounding great until I asked whether or not his twin sister could come with us to the program.

"It's not a problem if you need her to stay home," I explained. "I would just need to arrange babysitting with my mother."

"Actually," the speech therapist said, "you can't come to the class. You'll just drop him off and you can take that time to run errands."

"I'd really like to stay," I heard myself say. "I wouldn't know the exercises to practice at home if I didn't observe."

"Parents really don't stay in the room," she repeated firmly. "We'll go over the exercises with you when you come to pick him up. Will this be a problem?"

And what could I say as I started to have a panic attack? Yes. This will be a problem. All this time, I've snickered with Josh over the women who ask me if I have my children in preschool because if I didn't, I'd have to admit that I'm not ready to let them go off on their own. I'm not ready for my house to be empty during the day or to have someone else enjoying those hours with them. Those are my hours and I did the hard work to earn them. And when she told me that I was going to have to drop him off, it was almost as if she had said that she was going to rifle through my jewelry drawer and steal a few choice pieces...if I didn't mind.

I wanted to tell her that I know I need therapy and that this is my own problem, but I really didn't know if I could drop him off and walk out of the room if I wasn't pregnant by the time services started in the fall because he could be the only babyhood I get. If I was pregnant, I could release him for those hours and let him grow up knowing that my arms would still be full. But if I wasn't pregnant, I was not going to be able to watch him walk into that classroom and have her close the door on me and have me on the other side. Because that's exactly how it feels to not be able to conceive. To have a door close on you while you still need to watch the scene unfold through a little window.

So this was not going to work to have her take my child and teach him how to speak when I want to teach him how to speak, regardless of the fact that I have no speech pathology training.

But I told her, "no, it's not a problem."

And then Josh took the kids to the car while I had a short cry in the teacher's lounge bathroom.

Happy almost blogoversary day to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Thank you for agreeing to participate in (1) more of my harebrained ideas and (2) my totally undeserved celebration (or...more accurately, we all deserve an international, online celebration so we should all beg for one every once in a while).

So here is a rundown of the week (since some activities require forethought and preparation).

The festivities kick off on June 18th with invisible booze at the Virtual Lushary. Come, drink imaginary drinks, and read what everyone has been up to since the last open bar. This is a great way to pick up lots of points for the Commentathon (see below): just follow bar comments back to the author's blog and read a new story. Or two. Or eighty. And leave a comment. And count that as a point.

The Commentathon will take place over the course of the entire week. Our aim is to spread the love over the blogosphere by collectively leaving 1000 comments. This is how it will work: (1) beginning June 13th, people can "register" and tell me a comment goal for the week. Be realistic, but pledge how many comments you will give out during the week. For every comment you leave on someone's blog, you get one point. For every comment you return that was left on your blog (in other words, someone leaves a comment on your blog and you go to their blog and return the favour by leaving a comment. We'll call these "double back" comments), you get two points. So, let's say that you pledge 10 points per day, you may leave 6 comments as well as return 2 comments for a total of 10 points. (2) starting June 18th, keep track of how many comments you leave over the course of the day. Each morning, send me a note to thetowncriers@gmail.com and let me know how many comments you wrote on infertility and pregnancy loss blogs* the day before. Again, every comment counts as one point and every double-back comment counts as two points. So keep track of how many points you have daily. This is, of course, done on an honour system. (3) keep track and send in numbers until June 25th (there will be three "catch-up" days that you can use from the 26th--28th if you're away between the 18th--25th). (4) we'll see if we can write 1000 comments as a community over the course of the week. (5) the highest commentors will be announced and awarded on the 29th during the blog roundup.

Secret Public Ode Day will fall on the 21st. This one takes a bit of preplanning too. Choose another blogger and write a paragraph about how much their blog means to you. How you've found inspiration in their words or how their point-of-view has made your journey or coping strategies a little better. You can reference (and link to) specific posts or simply speak about their blog in general. Email me the paragraph with a link to the blog some time between today and June 20th. I will post all of them on the 21st. You will never know who wrote the paragraph about you so don't even ask. Just bask in the love and know how much you've changed someone else's world. This is sort of in that vein that people never take the time to say nice things about a person for when they're alive and can enjoy the compliments. Moreso, this is a reminder that even though you may think your blog is expendable, people would be very sad if you ever took it down or stopped writing. If you have the energy, write more than one paragraph and send them to me! Make sure you also try to write about the smaller blogs you read that people may not know about yet.

On my actual blogoversary, the 25th, we will hold the Great Cake Day. Bake or buy a decadent dessert, but take a photo for your blog pre-consumption (or during consumption. But it's just a tease if you post a picture of an empty plate with a few crumbs and a grubby fork). Post your picture and sent me the url for the post. I'll make a massive list of everyone eating cake on the same day across the world. If you live in the same city as many other bloggers, set up a date to get together and consume cake together. Or if you live in the middle of Kansas and you're the only stirrup queen for miles, proudly chow down on your chocolate cake alone (though, you're not really alone because everyone else is chowing down on their cake and talking about it online so it feels like we're all together at an enormous international party). If you bake your cake, post the recipe too. Or if you buy your dessert from a fantastic bakery that everyone should know about, provide a link in case someone else lives in your city too.

I had a few other ideas, but I fear that the week will be too packed so I may hold off and do a few more things later in the summer. So...that's the schedule. I'll post registration for the Commentathon in mid-June. But right now, you can get started on your ode to another blogger for Secret Public Ode day. Or two bloggers. Or, 50 bloggers if you have the energy. Send them along once you write them and I'll start compiling them into a post.

* Infertility and pregnancy loss is a simplistic name that encompasses any blog related to infertility, treatments, living child-free, adoption, GBLT assisted reproduction, donor gametes, secondary infertility, pregnancy loss, pregnancy-after-infertility, and parenting-after-infertility
(as well as any other categories I inadvertently left off the list).

At the same time, we've already composed the music and are writing the lyrics for our entry in the next International Infertility Film Festival. It has a seasonal theme and all I can say right now is that our four verses each cover a different season.

Josh: Melissa--get off the computer and stop talking to yourself.

Watch the film here

Yuck

When my new OB handed me my new prescription for Prometrium, he mentioned that he prefers patients to take it orally.

"Oh...," I said, trying to decipher his handwriting on the script. I was wracking my brain to remember what Kris wrote about the different progesterones. "So they make an oral progesterone now?"

"It's the same one," he told me. "You can either use it as a suppository or ingest it. I prefer patients to ingest it. I think it works better that way."

No offense, but there are things that belong in your hoohaa and there are things that belong in your mouth. And with a single exception, there is nothing that belongs in both places. You don't put milk-soaked cheerios in your vagina so why should you slip progesterone down your throat?

Am I the only person in the world completely nauseated of the idea of putting something I once thought of as a suppository in my mouth?

Side Effects

I know this is silly because it's only 81 mg, but I thought that one of the side effects of taking a daily baby aspirin would be that I would never get headaches. It would be a preventative painkiller. It would blot out the pre-cramps that signal an upcoming period.

It doesn't really work like that.

At all.

Bell Ringing

This is the worst part about knowledge: you don't know until you have it that you really didn't want it. And at that point, it's too late to unring the bell. After many weeks of thinking about temping and forgetting to temp, my new OB's request to run a new day-21 progesterone test was the perfect reason to pop the thermometer back in my mouth. That number dictated my whole mood for the day.

And this is what I learned after all of those months of having 30-day cycles and thinking that things had somehow normalized with my cycles: I didn't ovulate when I had the right cervical mucous. I ovulated many days later on day-21. My temperatures hovered right above the coverline. My LP ended after 9 days. So much for a perfect 30-day cycle.

I want my new OB to run day-3 blood work for me.

Do I really want to know the results knowing that I can't unring the bell once I see my FSH level?

What does the hope buy me if I end up learning down the line that it was paste instead of diamonds?

In another month, it will be my first blogoversary (June 25th). I know, I know, these blogs grow up so fast. Just the other day it was a little toddler, asking questions about the worst thing anyone has ever said to you in regards to infertility and now it's a surly teenager, stealing cigarettes from the local 7-11 and drinking beer under the bleachers.
Um...


And I know that everyone's blog turns a year old at some point. I know that many people have blogs that are two, three, or even four. But almost 500 posts in a first year feels like it's cause for celebration.



Why do I deserve a week of festivities when my blog is no more special than anyone else's blog? Because I'm asking for it. It's not that I'm more deserving--it's just that I have the chutzpah to ask. And the other reason is that while my blog is my own thoughts and feelings, I have always seen it more as a public space--a public living room sans crap bucket or a bar that serves virtual drinks. So it's really a celebration of all of us--an entire community of men and women who are bonded together by a simple pomegranate-coloured thread.

What do you think? Will you eat cake and comment and join in whatever hairbrained activities I think up for this week-long celebration? Consider this a pre-party RSVP to find out if anyone would even be willing to eat cake. Online. At the same time. Before I spend more time coming up with ideas of how we can virtually come together for a week-long love fest.

So...now back to your regularly scheduled round-up:

Julie at A Little Pregnant had a wonderful post this week called "Worth It" where she muses about the idea of stopping the process of adding to her family. When she talks about how enticing it is to simply stop, people assume she means that she is seeing the benefits to being done with babyhood--a sweet time, but definitely a hard time. But it isn't that. It's the idea of being finished with trying to conceive--the roller coaster of emotions and the difficult decisions. For those who haven't had trouble conceiving, they overlook the stress of conception and only consider the diapers and bottles and cracked nipples and sleeplessness. But for those who need to clear the hurdle of conception or carrying first? It's a minefield that few have the tenacity to walk across again and again. And yet, when you know what you'll miss by not walking through that minefield to the other side? It is enough to break your heart as you stand in place. Sending good thoughts to you as you suss this out.

Asheggy at The Spirit of Magnolia had a post this week about letting go of a dream. Even when you are 1000 kinds of excited to adopt, there still is a mourning process that takes place as you shut the book on pregnancy. As a step in that mourning process, Asheggy placed her fertility monitor for sale on Ebay. And felt liberated by having this reminder out of her house. Until...she went to the hospital to visit a friend who just gave birth and the wave of nevers toppled over her: "As I looked at “R” I just couldn’t stand the fact that 'THAT WOULD NEVER BE ME!' I would never carry a baby to term. I would never be in a maternity ward delivering a baby. I would never be blessed with a labor/delivery experience." It is a very moving post.

Peep at Conflicted is moving onto her first egg donor cycle. In a post this week, she has a paragraph that moved me beyond belief: "Anyway, we are moving on to a donor egg. I am excited about it. Maybe I am in denial but I think I have had long enough to roll it over in my mind and now I am ok with it. I told my husband the other day that one day this precious little girl (?) is going to walk up to us and say mommy, daddy ...something cute... and we are going to be glad my eggs sucked because we wouldn't have THIS one! I know it's corny and way too positive but that is where I am at now and I have to do what it takes to be at peace with not having a genetic child." I love that idea that if all the other cycles had worked, you wouldn't have that child (either now or in the future). Okay, so I wish these cycles would work, but it's also a gorgeous thought.

Jay at Making Cakes the Hard Way has this melancholy little post this week that I loved. It starts with a description of what so many of us feel at some point or another on this journey: "At the risk of sounding like I’m having a mid-life crisis (I’m not, but that would probably be easier to define), at the moment I feel like I’m stuck in a strange sort of existential limbo. Neither here nor there; not finished with doing something, but not started with the next thing either; not really anywhere solid, safe nor secure." The entry then continues into a brilliant analogy between trying to conceive and moving to a new house. And you need to read the whole thing to get it, but I promise that you're going to be nodding along and saying, "so true."

Lastly, in a blogosphere that is known for desiring a positive, Adrienne at Max's Mommy explains why a negative can sometimes be a good thing. It's a thought that has gone through the pregnancy loss journals from time to time (Tina recently had a similar thought on the Waiting Blilt). But it's a beautiful post about answered prayers that keep a woman from going through another loss. It always moves me when I read something that expands my understanding of life and death and the whispered prayers that fall in between.

So there were three big winners of last week's guessing game. Somewhat Ordinary, Bea and Karen each got four out of five correct. So you have won this nifty sidebar icon for your blog as well as bragging rights until the next Guess-That-Blogger Roundup. And everyone else in the roundup should grab the roundup icon to add to your post as well. If you want it. No pressure.

So...
In closing...
Your tasks in this order:
1. Send a pre-RSVP whether you would participate in a week of blogoversary festivities if I came up with a week of activities.
2. Read these incredible blog posts above and leave the author a comment.
3. If you live in the U.S., have a wonderful holiday weekend.

Fuck raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens--cancelled IVF cycles take more comfort than can be doled out by Maria and the Von Trapp family. I'd like to keep a monthly roundup of new things or ideas that people have found that have helped them--even if it's just five minutes of forgetting about infertility--before, during, or after a cycle. Places, products, recipes, books, music, movies--truly anything can go on this list. And people can use it to jog their mind (washing the bed linens and then taking a nap midday on warm, clean sheets? See--simple ideas) or prepare themselves with nice things they could do for themselves during an upcoming cycle (DVDs or books to collect to distract during a two-week-wait). Don't worry if you're talking about a local business because chances are that there is another reader who lives close by or will pass through your town at one point. Don't worry if the product can only be obtained at a local store or if it sounds bizarre once you put your idea into words. If it works for you, it may work for someone else. We'll hold this roundup once a month. Once a month passes, I'll move that list into the archives below and set up a new list for the current month. That way people can also do seasonal things or time-sensitive products (for instance, an ice cream flavour that is only on the market for a short period of time). So...list away--add your own favourite things in the comment section of the current list by clicking on the hyperlinked text below:

Not to get all Oprah-y and start shouting out my favourite things like you should care...but I'm going to shout out my favourite things. And please pretend to care. Because I am having a crap day and I need the caring confirmation... So, my new favourite things which I add to my old favourite things: Politics and Prose and Nam Viet. As well as meerkats and Disney World. And Morningstar Farms' fake bacon. And pick-your-own fruits and vegetables.

(1) Serenity. I met her last night. Some things you may not know about Serenity: international spy (oops, I probably shouldn't have told you that since...you know...it blows her cover). Holder of a Fields Medal AND a Nobel Prize. Supermodel. Has over 66 tattoos--mostly of cool things like a Follistim pen jabbing into a torso and the word "Mom" being torn apart by a dagger. Drinks champagne by the caseload at every meal and doesn't even stagger a bit as she goes back to her waiting limousine.

Just in case you don't believe me, I will also tell you that she rocks. That when I sat down at the table, it was as if I had known her for 80 years. She is just as smart and funny and caring as she seems via her blog. She is exactly like your favourite sweater--the one that simply makes you feel good just by wearing it. I can't wait to see her again the next time I'm in Boston, and I'm hoping to drag her down to D.C. soon. I am so excited that I got to meet her.

(2) Good Grief by Lolly Winston. This was one of those books that I always picked up and carried around the bookstore, but then chickened out about buying. Because it is about losing your spouse and the grief that follows and I didn't think I could handle reading it. But I took the chance since we're reading her other book Happiness Sold Separately for the Barren Bitches Book Tour and it is FANTASTIC. I think about Sophie, the main character, whenever I'm not reading the book: worrying about her, trying to think of some small things I could do for this fictional person that could make a difference. You care about her so deeply and you feel her grief so deeply and it has been extremely cathartic to read this book. I think Winston's greatest gift is that she takes you right up to the edge of grief and lets you look down, and then pulls you back for a moment to catch your breath with a small laugh, and then brings you to the edge again. So whereas the grief from the Year of Magical Thinking simply brought me to heaving tears (which is also a good thing from time to time and I loved that book too), the grief in this book is much more managable. You know what it's like? You know how some people have crappy clinic nurses who don't hold their hand through the process and therefore, they feel even more overwhelmed and terrified through their first cycle because they never feel like they know what the fuck is happening? Winston is the opposite: she's the good nurse who is going to hold your hand and return your calls and walk you through the cycle and let you know what's up so you don't feel quite so overwhelmed. You may still be scared or sad, but you won't be overwhelmed. And that's how her writing feels to me.

(3) O'Naturals. This restaurant has the best fake chicken. It also has real chicken, but since I only eat fake chicken, I am only concerned with the veaty variety. It. is. so. good. I love you, Stonyfield Farms.

There are probably other favourite things I could add to this list, but since I'm not Oprah and since no one really cares what I think and like, I should probably cut it off here. But feel free to add your own fabulous finds to the list and I'll try yours if you'll try mine (except if yours is real chicken or beef or fish--see #3 on my list).

Coming up next, director's commentary for Uterninus's Law. The blunders (did you catch the mistake in the movie that we left in?), the behind-the-scene stories. While I'm on this ego trip, I thought I would do an interview with me.

Uterninus's Law (n): origin: Uterninus, the lesser-known but equally fiery brother of Saturninus, who was superstitiously thought to be the source of all conception woes in ancient Rome.* Uterninus's Law is the force that thwarts all conception efforts on the part of infertile men and women in direct correlation to how badly they need the cycle to work. Any attempt to circumvent Uterninus's Law by pretending to "not care" about a cycle is detected and squashed in turn.

Examples:

• Though a couple will be getting along on all other days of the year, they will have terrible arguments twelve hours prior to ovulation so they miss the perfect window by fuming instead of having sex. This correlation is noted even more accurately when ovulation predictor kits are used to time intercourse. Especially if the couple is financially-strapped and they had to think twice about purchasing said OPK.


• If you are to receive blood test results on a Friday, the doctor will only call during the three minutes of the day when you do not have cell phone reception. He will leave a vague message and you will not be able to find out the results until Monday morning.


• If you are using a mail-order service for medications because it is less expensive or more convenient, when the medications arrive, you will either be missing several parts of your order OR the box will arrive a day after your first injection.


• If you refrain from drinking alcohol and coffee, partake in daily yoga classes, and eat a healthy, balanced diet, you will not get pregnant.


• Sperm lives in a woman's body for 3--5 days ONLY if you are a terrified teenager who has no clue (1) when she ovulates and (2) if she took her birth control pill. Sperm lives in an infertile woman's body for 3--5 hours, therefore making lining up timing with ovulation nearly impossible. This rule also wrecks havoc with the first bullet point and arguments around ovulation. Doctors do not believe this fact and therefore often repeat the idea that sperm lives in all women's bodies for 3--5 days.


• If you need to run a progesterone test seven days after ovulation and you sigh in relief that you will ovulate with days to spare before you leave for a big trip, you will invariably ovulate too late, therefore making it impossible to test progesterone that cycle.


• The more hand-holding and the more awkward the relationship is with your inlaws, the more likely they will schedule their visit to fall during retreival or transfer. If they are the type who need a gourmet meal cooked nightly and a spotless house, they will arrive one day before your beta.


• The month you run out of your prenatal vitamin and say "fuck it" since you're not even cycling anyway and angrily put off refilling the prescription for two weeks will be the month you get pregnant.

For more examples of Uterninus's Law, please see this short film:

To my new favourite person in the world who gave me directions to the Starbucks at exit 10 off of I-84 while we were both washing our hands in the bathroom at the Danbury Barnes and Noble after Josh and I missed the exit for the one Starbucks we know in the area off of exit 2 and we had been driving around coffeeless for hours and you understood what I meant when I told you that I had my heart set on a dulce de leche latte and couldn't stop at a different coffee place:

Thank you. The directions worked.

Sincerely,
Melissa

DD at TKO...more or less... had the brilliant idea a while back to come up with a Friday Blog Roundup icon that people could use on their blog. And then Summer at Worrier/Warrior came up with the idea of the lasso. So if you've already had an entry in roundups past, feel free to add this icon to the bottom or top of the entry or repost the old post again with the new icon to let everyone know that your writing kicks ass (at least in my opinion). And if you are in roundups current, again, feel free to use this icon. And if you are in roundups future, I will start using this icon each week so you can steal it whenever you need it. It would be sort of kind of cool if you linked the picture back to the roundup where you were featured (you link pictures just as you link words, by clicking on the picture, clicking on the link icon in your tool bar, and filling out the appropriate url).

Since everyone seemed to like it, I decided to incorporate the guessing game once a month or so into the Friday Blog Roundup. If you missed the game a few weeks ago, below are the normal descriptions of the blog entries that are featured in the roundup. Only this time, instead of stating the author, you need to guess who wrote the entry without clicking around on the Web to check everyone's blog. Number a scrap of paper from 1--5 and write down your guess. Then (since we're doing this on an honour system) check your answers by clicking on the "and the author is..." hypertext at the end of each entry. See how many you got correct and leave a comment with your score. Anyone who gets all 5 correct or the highest scorer gets bragging rights for the month. And an icon from Microsoft Paint that also features a sperm and egg. Since one can never have too many sperm and egg icons...

But, wait, before we begin--Bleu posted this picture and story about this crocheted hat that she lost. There are so many knitters and crocheters in the infertility and pregnancy loss blogosphere that I thought someone could take on recreating the hat as a project. So if you're up for it, leave a comment for Bleu and let her know.

Okay...so name that blogger:

Mother's Day itself brought out many more reflections on the day than the pre-holiday entries. In this entry, the author talks about the King Solomon story where two mothers each claim to be the mother of the child. Solomon decrees that he will split the child in half in order to give each woman part of the child. One woman agrees that this is fair, but the other cries out not to hurt the child but to give him to the first woman. Solomon awards the child to the second woman since she is clearly the mother. It's assumed that she is the mother because only a mother would put her child first like that to protect him over her own happiness. But this blogger asks a more interesting question: "Suddenly, today, it occurs to me I may have missed the point. Where in the text does it provide conclusive DNA proof of genetic relationship? It seems to me King Solomon unmasked something much more important than that. Perhaps his wisdom was this: the woman didn't act that way because she was the "real" mother - rather, she was the real mother, because she acted that way. So this is for all the real mothers out there today - regardless of what definition others may hold. Regardless of whether you've conceived, given birth, passed on genes, or held your child in your arms. Happy mother's day. I recognise you. And you're doing a terrific job." I'm pretty sure that I will revisit this post on many Mother's Days to come. And the author is...

This author wrote a fantastic list of questions for Mother's Day trying to catch the definition of motherhood. If she conceived a child but it didn't live, is she a mother? If a woman gave birth to her but didn't raise her, is she a mother? How do some people get this title and others do not? She writes about her own status as a mother and the child she lost: "I conceived a child. I carried it in me. I worried for it. I saw its heartbeat. I prayed for it. I decided it was a boy and decided to call him Gabriel...But I never held him in my arms. I never looked him in the eye. There is no birth certificate, no social security number. No one will give me a card today or wish me a Happy Mother's Day. Most of my family doesn't know he existed. So am I a Mother?" I personally think the answer is "yes." I believe motherhood begins long before you hold a child in your arms. There are too many childless mothers out there. As well as too many non-parenting mothers who take the title without the job. It's an interesting list of questions and a fascinating debate. Add you own opinion after you check who the author is...

This blogger has a gorgeous post this week about the summer interns who have filed into her office. They're bright-eyed, they're eager, and--most of all--they haven't been worn down to a nub. This blogger wishes she could be in that space again, before her life became overrun by infertility. She longs to feel excited about something, relax, dream. My favourite is number 4: "I would like to stop thinking that "I can't" because of the "What if's". I can't make plans for vacation, what if I am cycling? I can't go ahead with that house project, what if we need the money for another cycle?" Anyone who has never experienced infertility can never understand, and anyone who has experience infertility can't help but nod their head. And the author is...

I bawled when I read this blogger's poem about himself especially when I got to the final thought: "Halved, I hope to be, sleepless at night and thrown-up upon by day, holding half of me and half of my greatest love entwined in one small body who will emerge from the womb with more hair than I have had since my senior year at the University of Iowa – I am a father in waiting." It's a beautiful thought--though it's the idea of parenthood and sharing this child (whether it shares your gametes or not) with the greatest love of your life. And the author is...

Lastly, this blogger has a fantastic vent this week on the frustration of having to justify feelings. After she runs through the list, from starting to try to having several failed transfers, she asks the question: "Through it all, through the whole fucking process, you spend all your energy trying to justify the fact that you feel shitty to people. To your family. To your friends. To your husband, who though he'll comfort you when you cry, gets really frustrated when he hears you say "this is my fault." But that's how you feel. And my question is this. Why is it SO FUCKING HARD for people to tell us: "Feel whatever you want to feel?" It's incredible how much energy is expended on holding in feelings, putting on a happy face, or explaining yourself in a process that is already emotionally draining. Head over to read the whole post because I can't really do it justice here. And the author is...

Now that you have your five guesses, click on over and see if you're correct. And then come back and tell me how many you got right.

Lastly, if you live in the D.C. area, D.C. bloggers are getting together at Clydes in Chevy Chase this Friday at 7 p.m. LJ from Looking for 2 Lines has organized the gathering and I've been promised that it's the first of many get-togethers since I can't make this one and want to meet up with everyone. Click here for more details including a description of what LJ is wearing so you'll know how to find everyone. Also, leave her a comment and let her know that you'll be there so she knows how many to expect.

Even though we're currently hard at work for the next International Infertility Film Festival (July 28th in case you haven't signed up yet. And don't give me an excuse like "we don't know how to make a movie" because I didn't know how to make a movie until the great Bea took me under her wing. This is how you make a movie: you get instructions from Bea. You don't look at them. You go and sweetly say to your husband, "you are very good at learning new software. I am terrible at learning new software. Will you please follow these instructions that Bea gave me and put the movie together?" He makes the movie and you just write the song--he'll give you the music too--record it, and make the images in Microsoft Paint. It's easy!)...wait, what was I saying?

Oh...right. Even though we're making a film for that festival that pertains to the seasons, we made another film in the meantime. Strange things have happened since we last saw Infertile Myrtle. She learned that for $80 and an hour wait, anyone can go to the social security office and change their name. So she did. Her new name is Sharon Barren. And while she was there, she changed her husband's name too. So his name is Darren Barren. Sharon and Darren Barren.

Sharon still has a uterus of doom. And she still has her squash blossoms and triangular body.

I made the movie page below so I could link to it on the sidebar. What is Uterninus's Law, you ask? You'll just have to wait a few more days until the movie is finished to find out. But like last time, I give you these stills until you can hear Sharon's kicky little guitar song.






In this scene, Sharon tries to drown herself in a grande, decaf, no-foam, extra shot, vanilla latte.

Sharon will be in action soon when Josh finishes laying out the frames for the movie. Until then, you can sign up for the next film festival and create your own musical cartoon.

Thank you for the good thoughts about the not-so-negative betas as well as our neighbour's divorce. I'm not sure why their divorce is making me so uneasy. We're not particularly close with these neighbours beyond the chatting-outside-because-we're-both-shoveling-snow kind of relationship. I was so thrown off when the man called me and started crying into the phone, telling me these intimate details about her betrayal. It just wasn't what I was expecting at all when I picked up the phone.

And then, while everything already felt so off that day, I'm not sure why I called my nurse to ask about those old betas. I was just gathering together stuff for the appointment with the new OB and emailing with Jackie. It was strange to take out my journal and look back on those cycles.

For one of those five cycles, I had written in my journal:

I am debating whether or not to test tomorrow at 13dpo. On one hand, I will have a beta at 15 dpo so why not let myself dream a little longer? But for some reason, I think in my heart that I am pregnant.

The morning of the beta, we went to get blood drawn and since we were already awake at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning, we decided to go to Quaker meeting. At this point in the story, you're probably reading that last line several times since...you know...I'm a Jew. But I had always wanted to go to Quaker meeting and see what it was like, though not enough to wake up that early on a Sunday on purpose. But since we were already awake and since I was lost inside my own thoughts anyway...

Our friend (a Jewish rabbi, no less) told us about this old meetinghouse in the middle of farmland that he went to on the anniversary of his Quaker mother's death each year. I felt very shy going inside because I really didn't know what one was supposed to do at meeting. But if you've never been and if there is a rural meetinghouse near you, it is a wonderful way to spend the last few minutes dreaming before the nurse calls with a negative beta.

We sat in silence for a little more than an hour. Whenever someone was moved to speak, they stood up and said something and then sat down. I wanted to stand up and say, "I really need for this cycle to have worked. I will not be able to handle a negative beta." But that probably wasn't what they meant by being "moved to speak." Judging from everyone else's less-selfish words, thoughts on community, Christ, and peace were probably more inline with what the congregation expected to hear.

We were home for a little bit when the phone rang. And I remember standing next to the window between the kitchen and the hallway to the living room, dragging my thumbnail inside the grooves of the phone while the nurse sympathetically told me that the beta was negative and here were the new changes for the next cycle. After I sat down at the kitchen table and cried. I had been so certain when I was sitting in meeting that morning that I was pregnant. And now it turns out that something had happened--maybe not a pregnancy, but something.

We went downtown after the phone call. We bought three hats--a red one, a brown one, and a black and grey number with delicate flowers painted onto the rim. When we were paying, Josh threw in two small metal hearts from a dish next to the cash register. We hold those hearts whenever we go for treatments or when we're waiting beta results.

With the divorcing couple next door, I think we're thrown off by the proximity to all of this anger. On Saturday morning, they were having a fight and I could hear the wife screaming. She had gotten to that point where she was so enraged that her words were unintelligible--it was just a throat-tearing shriek. We've seen them a few times outside and we never know what to say--if she knows how much we know and if he wants to forget how much he told me. The man isn't living in the house anymore and we're not sure where he is staying. He was gone for a few days, but I've now seen him a few times--he comes back to the house at odd hours. It's the strangeness of being home during the day and watching things unfold whereas if I worked outside the house, I probably would miss these small pieces.

If they lived a few streets away, it would have been something I had thought about for a few hours that morning and forgotten as I went about my day. But since they live next door, it's this constant reminder that you never know what goes on behind closed doors. Unless they're having their fight in the backyard and screaming as if the words are barreling out of her throat like a gun going off.

Musings on last week.

What do you do with betas of 5? At my clinic, they call you and simply say, "I'm sorry, it was negative. So I'll transfer you to the front desk and you can schedule an appointment for day 3 bloodwork." My nurse generally went through changes in the upcoming cycle that my doctor had listed in my chart as a "next step." Anything less than 10 gets a "negative." Anything over 10 gets a number and a follow up appointment for a second beta.

I never questioned it.

Recently, I was talking to research chickie extraordinary, Jackie, who has the unique position of holding a PhD in endocrinology and physiology while going through treatments and she told me that it's possible for an embryo to secrete a small amount of hCG after fertilization but prior to implantation. In other words, my betas of 5 could mean that fertilization took place, but not implantation.

Why are these cycles written off instead of being considered as a small piece of a larger puzzle? I know the answer is that my doctor probably doesn't have as much energy to scrutinize my individual case as I do. He probably looks for the big clues, treats the obvious problems.

But what do I do with betas of 5?

I don't mean in the emotional sense--a negative is a negative. But in the puzzley sense? Do I throw out these betas too? Do I become assertive and discuss my own thoughts? Do my thoughts count for anything because I am an emotional infertile woman who is way too close to her cycle to see it clearly?

And what does it mean when I look back now, finding out three years down the line that a beta was a 5 instead of the assumed zero and see that I wrote in my journal that intuitively, I thought I was pregnant. I was sure I was pregnant.

After my daughter actually made good on her threat to "scream in shul" (which makes me gulp since she also threatened to treyf my kitchen and eat toilet paper this week when I wouldn't give her jelly beans), Josh took them into the hallway and I was left during the Torah service with my Etz Hayim. Just me and a Tanakh. And a body gearing up to ovulate. And I did it.

I flipped over to the barren chickies in the beginning of the book.

The first time we were going through treatments, I spent every Saturday in shul not reading the portion we were actually learning and instead rereading the stories of Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel. It's sort of like reading blogs that are never updated. Sarah laughing over finally getting a BFP. Rebecca worrying about miscarriage with her twins. The strain on Rachel's marriage as she lashes out in desperation. I've read their stories so many times, went over the meager information about their stats so many times, wondered if I could get through decades of infertility like Sarah all the while knowing that as much as I would hate myself for it, I would have run off fertile Hagar as well.

The first time through treatments, I was so focused on having a child that I never noticed the structure of the family or the number of pregnancies. I thought once motherhood was obtained, many of those feelings about infertility would fly out the window. Turned out, like many other things in life such as the aesthetics my 8th grade hairstyle or the sanity of my grad school boyfriend, that I was wrong.

Sarah, the first woman in the troika, had one pregnancy and one child. Rebecca, the second woman, had one pregnancy but fraternal twin boys. Rachel, the one I related to the most of the three women, had two pregnancies. Etz Hayim points out her desire to have children was so strong that after going through one of the most painful sensations in existence, she immediately wanted to go through it again for another child.

What does all of this mean? I'm not sure. I thought it was interesting that I only noticed it now. I thought it was interesting that each woman has a different family structure once childlessness was resolved (and to take this a step further, the other Emaot--or mothers--of Infertility in the Torah, each have a different family structure too. Hannah finally has a child, but the child leaves her home. And Michal never gives birth, but instead adopts her sister's five children when her sister dies therefore becoming a mother to five in one fell swoop). I thought it was interesting that I hadn't turned back to those pages until today.

My daughter returned to the sanctuary after I moved seats to get away from the two annoying men who were carrying on a long conversation about their golf game. There was a space next to the window and she danced wildly to the entire spoken Amidah, punching the air with every "Baruch ata Adonoi..." She threw her head back and spun around, clapping her hands as if the Shabbat spirit had entered her body and she was looking for a few snakes to pick up and prove it. It made me wonder about Sarah, whether she tried again so she could live through the wild-dancing-in-shul years one more time but was ultimately unsuccessful. It made me wonder about Rebecca and whether she always felt like she missed out on something by building her family all at once. It made me understand Rachel and why she needed to try again.

Updated at 8:53 p.m.:

Still pouring drinks at the Virtual Lushary, albeit slowly. If you still haven't gotten your order, it will come today. A life lesson: free bars sometimes don't have great service... But we always go heavy on the imaginary alcohol.

Meanwhile, the book tour voting booth has closed and the results have been tallied. These next tours are not set in stone in the sense that if another great book comes along and everyone wants to read it, we can shift things about or if an author says that they can participate in a tour of their book but they are only free in the moment, we can move things around.

These books received the most votes so I placed them in a non-fiction/fiction order. Just to reiterate: these are not set in immovable type, but I wanted to get out this list so you could put yourself down on waiting lists at the library or feel solid ordering these from Amazon (or like Beagle's traveling book, if people wanted to share a copy, they could read ahead and have enough time to pass it along). The next few tours go as follows:

Tour 5: The Kid by Dan Savage
Tour 6: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
Tour 7: Inconceivable by Julia Indichova
Tour 8: Love and Other Impossible Pursuits by Ayelet Waldman
Tour 9: Happiness Sold Separately by Lolly Winston

Which takes us into the winter. Wow. Winter feels very far away right now especially with the general muggy weather and the ceremonial breaking out of the flip flops.

Interesting new thoughts are springing up on blogs as well. I missed a few posts towards the end of last week and I've included them here because it's my roundup and I can break the rules. As they say, it's good to be the queen. Actually, it really sucks to be the Queen or to be any stirrup queen. I set up a date with the new hematologist for the beginning of June. When I made the appointment, the nurse agreed that he'd want me on Lovenox. And the needlephobe in me awakened. She had been dormant for a bit. She's pretty good with denial. But Needlephobe Mel roared into action once I made that appointment.

I really hate injections.

And blood draws.

And as Es eloquently said this week, it seems most unfair that in a process that is pretty damn painful and uncomfortable regardless (pregnancy and delivery), that the pain and discomfort should be front-loaded and back-loaded for some.

So enough of my bitching about needles.

First of all, how freakin' cool is this? And this? (hint: click on the hyperlinked text)

I missed Lisa P's birthday last week. The title of her blog--More Than My Share--has never been more apt--she is definitely DEFINITELY getting more than her share right now. In the middle of trying to get pregnant, she has had another setback since she has recently started chemo. Her birthday, this small date on the calendar, sparked a post thinking through choices. And I loved the final line: "I just hate these reminders that come via dates on a calendar." You can still stop by her blog and wish her a belated birthday.

Hopeful to Hateful in 28 Days has a great post this week chronicling the thought process during the two week wait--from "wheew, I did everything I could" to "fuck--I have to do that again next month?" Head over and read the whole post. I especially love Dr. Jaded and Mrs. Hope!

Trisomymommy has a great post (okay, okay, so it was technically last Thursday) about this past FET cycle which worked--she is currently pregnant. Unlike her first go at IVF where she did everything "right," this time around, she had a more relaxed cycle--sipping her coffee and having a transfer on Friday the 13th. It has a bittersweet ending: "I’m happy but not celebrating. I’ve long since passed out of the blissful naiveté that allows me to assume that being pregnant means having a baby. It is merely a prerequisite, necessary but not sufficient. Still, I’m hopeful." May it be an easy pregnancy and delivery, Trisomymommy.

On the topic of bittersweet posts, Artblog has a post where she talks about infertility and loss as she tries not to talk about infertility and loss on Healing Arts. It is a brave, heartbreaking post and I cannot even do it justice with words over here. Please go over and not only read it for yourself, but send Artblog some comfort. Her heart is really hurting.

Lastly, it would not be a pre-Mother's Day blog roundup without a post that discusses this weekend. Andrea-Jennine has a post on Entrusted about her retrieval this weekend and the many reasons they want it on Sunday rather than Monday. Though I am not Christian, I really loved the end of her post and think it applies to many women (though change the ending to reflect your own religion): "And this Mother's Day, I ask you to remember those for whom the day is painful - those who don't or can't have children, those who have lost their moms, those who are estranged from their moms, and so on. I know those ladies (myself included) will need the comfort of Christ this weekend." Sending good thoughts to everyone--those who are celebrating for the first time or celebrating through tears or waiting to celebrate in the future.

For those who tried Guess-That-Blogger last weekend...



Co-winners of the blog guessing contest? Megan with six and Tina with five. I designed this lovely little question mark icon for your blogs... If people didn't find it too annoying, I'd like to do the Friday Blog Roundup like that once a month or so. We can come up with more exciting prizes. Bahamaventions and the like. Or if people found it too annoying, I can stick with the same format as above. Your thoughts?

I know, I know, DD, I still have to make my icon for the Friday Blog Roundup. What should it be? What says, "I was in the Friday Blog Roundup" in so far as pictures I can draw in Microsoft Paint?

Update:
I'm flipping the tour order because Ayelet Waldman can participate in the tour of Love and Other Impossible Pursuits. So it now falls after Dan Savage's book as tour #6 and The Handmaid's Tale is #8. Hope no one minds--I just think it's fun when you get to hear the author's reaction/thoughts/ideas.

It's just two words on a calendar. It's some greeting card displays and flower advertisements. It's commercials and sales and all other venues of consumerism.

And at the same time, it's almost as if Hallmark designed this lovely little knife to jab straight into your heart (the knife is, of course, festooned with decorative hearts and flowers and is only $6.99 with the purchase of three greeting cards).

You need a drink, right?

If you weren't in the middle of a 2ww, you'd be at a real bar this weekend. Or if you weren't waiting to cycle and worrying that alcohol could hurt your chances, you'd be knocking back a few appletinis. So let's open this one instead. I thought drinks would be better served before the 13th rather than after this month.

Mother's Day is this bizarre little holiday. When you can't celebrate it yourself, it becomes this huge container of salt to rub on a very open wound. And when you can celebrate it yourself, you still find yourself weeping in the card aisle. You want to simply enjoy it, but you think about what it took to get there. And while others try to convince you otherwise--"you have a mother; just celebrate her this May and don't think about it"--it's hard to get your mind off your hoohaahooterus when Hallmark has created a reminder of motherhood right in the center of May.

So for every stirrup queen who has not reached motherhood; for every stirrup queen who reached motherhood but had it cruelly snatched away; for every stirrup queen who is currently pregnant yet terrified about celebrating; or for every stirrup queen who has reached motherhood but still thinks about what it took to get there or how she will ever reach motherhood again--a drink for you.*

So don't just catch everyone up on what's happening to you this month--have a good vent. Get it out here. Send each other ideas on how you're spending that day. Send support to others who need it. And if you are looking for the perfect, alcohol-inspired card:




I purchased this card for a friend simply because she is in need of a good, stiff drink right now. But I thought I would put it up on the blog with a link back to the good people at Hallmark (more specifically, it was made by Shoebox) so that this card could be virtually sent to all of you. It seems that with the new line of sympathy cards aimed at infertility and pregnancy loss, Hallmark has also gone on a few tangents with hard-to-deal-with holidays.

Making Mother's Day a drinking holiday is a little bit like making a birthday a "smoke up, Johnny" sort of day. But why the hell not?

So...beyond your thoughts on the upcoming holiday...as I always state... It has been a little less than a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I'll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. Maybe you just had your first appointment with your RE. Or your worst fight ever with your spouse. Or maybe you simply need to have a good cry as you pick up the pieces after a D&C. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person's blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while, sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don't have a blog--gasp!--you can always leave an email address if you're looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you're a regular at the bar, I'll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I'm glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I'm talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation.

And forgive me if it takes me a day or two to get you your drink. My lady-when-waiting is coming into town!

* And to all men who fall into the male side of these categories (except the ones who are currently pregnant since you're such an media case that you're probably too busy giving interviews about how you're the first man carrying a child to drink at this imaginary bar), please pull up a chair and drink too since you have wives to comfort and celebrate this weekend.