WBZTV News: Infertility Doesn't Just Affect Older Women

Check it out! Here's the news piece from WBZ-TV, Boston's CBS news station, on our story of infertility and how my younger age plays a factor. Reporter Christina Hager has put together a really compassionate piece and I'm so honored and grateful that she reached out to me for her story.

You can read the story here online - Infertility doesn't just affect older women; or just hit play below. The video runs just over two and a half minutes long. (If it doesn't load, just click the link to the story above and scroll down for the video on WBZ-TV's website.)

• If you're visiting my blog from the news piece: welcome! You can get a brief overview of our infertility journey here. I'm happy to talk with folks so don't hesitate to contact me via email (see my Media page above).
• Correction: Larry and I need to save up $18,000 to begin IVF treatment with donor egg, not $1800, as is mentioned in the piece. Looks like they left off a zero.
• The piece ended mentioning the Family Act, an infertility tax credit bill. You can find out more about the infertility tax credit here - and how you can help by contacting your Senators to ask for their co-sponsorship of this important legislation.
• Please feel free to share this news story on your own blogs, FB, and Twitter. Here's a bit.ly link for your convenience: http://cbsloc.al/isZYC3 

Thanks for tuning in and thank you Christina and WBZ-TV for helping to raise awareness for an important public health issue!

The Infertile Women of The Torah: Infertility in Biblical Judaism

Marc Chagall (1956):

Hannah prays to the Lord for a son who will be Samuel

My page titled Who Are Hannah and Sarah? consistently gets the second highest number of views on this blog, besides the main page. It makes sense: neither are my name so the page outlines from where the inspiration for my blog title came and in what lens I first approached the news of my own infertility diagnosis. In short, the stories of Hannah and Sarah provide a unique juxtaposition of the issue of barren women in the Torah; for me, these stories serve as a model for infertile women in Judaism.

As I've come to terms with my infertility over the last two years, my faith and my infertility continue to contextualize one another. I'd like to write about some of the key players in my spiritual journey: our ancient infertile mothers - our Jewish Matriarchs and other key women in the Torah. I'd like to start an ongoing series with a few posts a month exploring various aspects of infertility in the Torah.

I hope you'll read along and I'll do my best to explain everything so it's approachable for anyone who reads this blog. I'm not here to push any kind of religious agenda; I'm just trying to explore my faith and see what lessons we can glean from a historical biblical perspective.

Tuesday night I had the privilege to attend a really engaging, deeply meaningful program at Mayyim Hayyim, a progressive mikveh and Jewish education center in Newton. The topic was "Infertility, Matriarchs and Ritual." One of the presenters was a rabbi who offered some truly thought-provoking exploration on the story of Hannah. She noted that three of Judaism's four Matriarchs: Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel - were each infertile and the prominence of Hannah's story in the Torah as well.

What struck so much with me was what she said next: "And those are just the ones who made it in." Like all holy texts, the Torah was hardly exempt from (patriarchal!) editing through the centuries. In some ways, we are lucky that the story of infertility even made it in the Torah at all. It's a thoughtful inclusion when G-d's first commandment is to Adam and Eve are "be fruitful and multiply."

As long as humankind has been havin' babies, there have always been those who can't. The Torah could have been very unkind to these ancient barren women by casting them in a harsh light or omitting their stories entirely, but their stories have been included to survive thousands of years. To me, that says that infertility is valued as a historical, cultural lesson within Judaism.

Interestingly enough - and this is really important here folks - the Torah never says that their infertility is the result of something they did or G-d's punishment. Think about that for a minute.

There's a really beautiful commentary in the Talmud (a body of ancient rabbinic commentary on the Torah) about how Hannah "spoke in her heart." She prays silently, moving only her lips. The Rabbis in the Talmud give Hannah a strong voice, saying that she "spoke in her heart" the following:

She spoke concerning her heart. She said before Him: Sovereign of the Universe, among all the things that Thou hast created in a woman, Thou hast not created one without a purpose, eyes to see, ears to hear, a nose to smell, a mouth to speak, hands to do work, legs to walk with, breasts to give suck. These breasts that Thou hast put on my heart, are they not to give suck? Give me a son, so that I may suckle with them.

This particular commentary says something very profound about the fundamental nature of infertility: just as G-d created every part of our bodies, G-d too then created infertility. If a part of our bodies does not function in some way, G-d has fashioned that disfunction. Granted, this is a very modern interpretation of this Talmudic tract, as we live in an age where infertility is recognized as a medical issue. I'm not saying that infertility happens for a Divine reason or purpose, but I argue this commentary opens the door to say that infertility is as much of one of G-d's creations as are our limbs, organs, or breath.

I have a lot more to say about Hannah, so I'll leave you with a short homework assignment:

Read about the story of Hannah in the Torah and then come back here and share in the comments what part of her story resonated with you the most. I'll use the discussion and comments to guide the next few posts in my "Infertile Women of the Torah" series. And remember, I'm not just looking for Jewish responses or approaches only - I'm looking for all views, religious or otherwise. Just think of Hannah as an infertility story just like any of ours. What sticks out for you?

A Snapshot of Our Infertility Journey Thus Far

Photo by Tim Regan, via Flickr.

So often I'm writing about all the big picture things in the infertility world: advocacy efforts, ranting about the media, and the like - sometimes I forget to remember that ultimately, I started this blog to chronicle our personal journey through infertility. I thought I should take a step back from all of that other stuff - though quite important - to just take a look at where we are right now.

Back before we ever knew about my diagnosis, Larry and I had talked over the Big Discussion of When We'd Have Children and decided that May 2011 would be the month we ditch the birth control and start makin' babies. How idealistic we were. It's bittersweet to know that now I can't ditch the BC if I wanted to; it serves as vital hormone replacement therapy. And, despite my best efforts to be sloppy with taking BC, I couldn't make an "accident" happen no matter how hard I tried. And believe me: I've tried this past year. What can I say: I've got a busted ovary and wishful thinking is hardly going to jumpstart it again anytime soon.

It's hard knowing this was supposed to be the month we made love with reckless abandon in hopes for a baby by our fourth wedding anniversary. It's hard knowing that my body has conspired against us. And, like every spring, it's hard feeling like the last kid picked for the team when all I see on my Facebook, Twitter, and Reader feeds are pregnancy and birth announcements, many from within this community. I am of course, happy for each and every one of them.

If you're an infertile blogger, then you know what that bittersweetness feels like: joy tinged with the faintest jealousy. You know that as happy as you are in your heart, it doesn't stop your nearly instinctual reaction to start crying, wondering, "When will it be my turn?"

Once again, I'm on the hunt to find newer blogs of folks who haven't yet resolved; I still read the folks who are moving on, but I'm finding myself in fewer alike company. When I started blogging two years ago, I watched that first batch of fellow bloggers resolve. There have been many batches of bloggers since. And I just keep writing, keeping filling this very aching void in my womb with inspired words.

What I can't create in biology I create in writing instead.

I wonder how many words I will have written before I'm able to write That Happy Ending. That Happy Ending That We Thought We'd Get to Have It All Just Like in The Movies - you know - The One Where You Marry Your High School Sweetheart and Have Your Little Soulmate Babies Together.

Our new adjusted timeline is to hopefully select a donor sometime late fall of this year, to pursue IVF with donor egg. My second opinion doc, Doc Awesome, assures me I'll be an excellent candidate for DE/IVF. Once we select a donor and go through that whole legal and donor screening rigamaroll, hopefully we'll get this baby-makin' ball rolling by December or January at the latest. And... it's only May. It's good to have a timeline in sight, but damn if the waiting doesn't get to me.

This all of course, depends on how quickly we can make our $15,000 savings goal. Believe me, I'm thankful to live in a state with the best mandated infertility treatment coverage, but of couse, donor egg is full of loopholes. Donor compensation, donor screening, agency and legal fees aren't covered, so even with my awesome mandated insurance, we're still facing $15K out of pocket. I know I should be thankful - it's remarkably less than those who have no insurance coverage, but we're not exactly Bill and Melinda Gates here. We're doing our best to pay our mortgage, our bills, fill up our gas tanks and our bellies and still somehow put some cash aside so we can build our family.

And then there's that nagging little voice: "We're actually saving $15K for a chance to build our family."

Because like everything else in this infertility journey: there's just no guarantee.

So that's where we're at: in a financial holding pattern until we save up the money. I continue to be involved with RESOLVE and RESOLVE of New England. I advocate for infertility awareness because it helps pass the time and gives me a sense of purpose and control while I wait. And the world moves ahead of us, another pregnancy announcement at a time.

I keep praying for a miracle.

As the days tick off the rest of this month, as I approach my 29th birthday next week, I keep thinking about How It Was Supposed to Have Been and How It's Very Much Not That at All Now.

And we keep waiting.

Remember Us on Sunday

Driving in to work this morning, I was listening to one of my favorite public radio stations. For weeks they've been promoting buying flowers for Mothers' Day to help support the radio station; a portion of the costs go directly to fundraising.

I'm not sure what it was this morning, but as I listened to my favorite local radio hosts hawk their fundraising flowers, I had to switch the station over to another. They went on and on about mothers and how children should honor the mothers in their lives. I don't disagree - I'm blessed to have two incredible mothers of my own- one by blood and one by marriage- and a sister who's shown me that she is one tough mama. I am grateful for each one of my aunts. And I cherish my dear friends who are mothers themselves. You all set a high standard for me to rise to one day.

But there was something about the radio hosts this morning that left me reflective and sad, as they played testimonials of folks who've bought flowers in the past for this fundraiser, singing the praises of the mothers in their lives who stayed up late with the kids and did so much. "Buy flowers for the stay-at-home moms to brighten their day," they said (as if somehow being a SAHM was otherwise dreary and draining and not the rich experience I know it to be for many moms).

As I changed the station, I thought to myself, "What about all the women who want nothing more to be moms? What about all the women who, for whatever reason, will never be able to be Hallmark's definition of a mom this Sunday?"

What about all the infertile, the childless not by choice?

What about us?

I hold out hope for myself that somehow, someway, I will parent with my husband. But I know there are so many out there who can't parent, despite many emotionally and financially draining attempts. That once again this year for Mothers' Day, it's just not in the cards. Last year, I wasn't as phased by Mothers' Day; I was more about exploring what Motherhood means to people. This year, well - this year is different. And there was something about driving in to work and listening to their endless pitch for flowers that just struck me differently - and deeply - this year.

Yesterday at Advocacy Day in DC (recap post Monday), Risa Levine, RESOLVE's National Advocacy Co-Chair, delivered the keynote address in the morning to all the attendees. She spoke beautifully at the conclusion of her speech about the "elephant in the room" - Mothers' Day this Sunday - and encouraged us to raise a glass for the work we set out to do that day and for all the Wannabe Moms. Because we've all held onto our dreams and fantasies of being a mom one day, and those dreams are just as important.

So, I'm asking the rest of the Hallmark-card-sending-world to remember us on Sunday.

We may not have stayed up late when the kids wouldn't go to bed. But we've stayed up late worrying about our transfers the next morning. We've stayed up late wondering why the agency hasn't called. Stayed up late wondering "How on earth are we going to pay for this?"

We may not have endured 20 hours of labor and a natural birth. But we've endured countless hours in stirrups, endless rounds of needles and herbal treatments and painful surgeries. And years of silence and shame.

We may not have brought our child to work but we've sacrificed careers to stay in jobs we hate just to maintain specific health insurance coverage, however crappy that coverage might be - but it's better than paying 100% out of pocket.

We may not have sold Girl Scout cookies with our daughters or run Boy Scout canned good drives with our sons, but we buy boxes of Thin Mints and hand over soup and beans to yours every time you ask us to.

We may never have experienced all those incredible moments that define and shape Motherhood...

...and we'd give anything to, just once.

Remember us on Sunday.

Gearing Up for Advocacy Day

I've got the shoes - slip-on heels that are uber-comfy. And there's a backup pair of flip flops in my shoulder bag just in case. That's been the #1 piece of advice I've gotten from all of the other bloggers I've asked who have participated in Advocacy Day: make sure you have comfortable shoes.

I'm so. freaking. excited. for tomorrow. After work today, I hop onto a flight down to DC amd then starting bright and early at 7:30am tomorrow, Advocacy Day begins with on-site registration and breakfast. We train from 8am to about 10am, and then it's off to the Senate Office Building. I was thrilled to read on Friday's Advocacy Day update email that Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D-FL) will speak to our group at 9am before we head out! Rep. Schultz was one of the 20 co-sponsors of the Family Building Act of 2009 and is a vocal supporter of the infertility community. She spoke with members of RESOLVE in support of our community at a Congressional briefing on infertility last April. I am ver yexcited to hear her speak.

I'm nervous about tomorrow.

The other folks I've talked to have all assurred me there's really no reason to be nervous. Larry said it best to me last night, "What's the worst that could happen? They say to you, 'Thanks for sharing your story with me?'" He raises a very salient argument there. But I can't help it; I'm still nervous. Maybe it's more nervous excitement. I know I'll be in the company of over 100 people representing 18 states who will be doing the exact same thing: meeting with legislators and/or their staffers, advocating for infertility awareness and some key action items. And it's not like we'll be unprepared: we have plenty of materials we've been given over the last few weeks, there are resources online, and we'll be getting that last-minute training rally first thing tomorrow morning.

Still... I'm nervous :)

I'll also be really candid here: this whole OBL thing? Makes me nervous about retaliation. As much as I think it's important to release the photos eventually, I'm just praying the White House doesn't decide to drop those today or tomorrow. Like, seriously folks? Can you just wait until the weekend for that? Please? Thanks. It's been a few years since I lived in the DC area, but even when we still had the colored terror threat system, I know how the region gets in times of increased security. I had to put this (slightly irrational) fear out there: name it, own it, and realize that there's not really a whole helluva lot I can do about it.

Tomorrow I'll be speaking with folks on Capitol Hill about three key issues:

1. Infertility is a disease. I know it seems like such a no-brainer to all of us. Yet, even though WHO and ASRM define infertility as a disease, we haven't gotten that yet from the CDC. More on that further below.
2. Getting support for a possible Family Tax Credit Bill. Similar to the Adoption Tax Credit, a bill has been drafted (but not proposed officially) that would offer infertility patients a credit of their infertility-related out-of-pocket expenses. It would certainly supplement folks like me who live in a mandated state, but would be a tremendous help to the 35 other states with no infertility mandate. As I will be meeting with Senator Kerry's staff, you better believe I will close the deal on asking him to originate the bill rather that just co-sponsoring, as he's on both the Senate Finance Committee and its Healthcare subcommittee.
3. Asking our legislators to follow-up with the CDC to inquire about the status of last year's National Action Plan for Infertility. This was a huge step forward for our community: the CDC last year committed to researching and funding a National Action Plan for "an emerging public health priority." (That's how the CDC refers infertility - not as a disease. You can see why issue #1 is important to discuss with legislators.) However, all work has stopped on the Action Plan. We want to get our legislators to commit to pushing the CDC to move forward with their work or to at the very least, find out why work has stopped.

Throw in the mix some highlights of our journey- like the fact that despite the fact that I live in a state that leads the nation in mandated coverage, we're still looking at $15-20K out of pocket - my effervescent charm, and hopefully, a little luck - it looks like it's going to be one amazing day.

I also want to give a very public shout out to both Melissa from Stirrup Queens and Julie from A Little Pregnant: when I asked each of them, they were both very kind to give me some fantastic advice about what to expect tomorrow. They've both really taken a lot of the edge off of the nervousness.

I'll be updating throughout the day on Twitter, so if you're not already following me @miriamshope, that will be the place to read about all of my adventures on Capitol Hill tomorrow. I will of course have a huge update post on Friday with pictures, reflections, and maybe a little video. We'll see how much I can cram in tomorrow and how fast I can edit any footage.

So with that folks, I'm off. If you're going to DC, look for the gal in the dark teal blue shirt and dark grey pants; I'll be wearing a yellow RESOLVE bracelet too. Feel free to come over and say hi - I love to meet folks IRL. For those on the blogosphere, read about my exploits on Twitter tomorrow. And to all: come back Friday and read the recap.

Oh, and wish me luck :)

Dispatches from My Better Half: A Guest Post by My Husband

While I'm happy to take the microphone and do all the talking, I'm stepping off the stage today to shine some light on someone who deserves just as much attention and credit: my fantastic husband, Larry. I'm blessed to have found my soulmate and to have someone who dives head and heart-first into our family-building adventures with me. I hope you'll enjoy his unique take on things as the "elusive male point of view."

. . .

For a long time, Keiko’s been asking me to write a guest post and for a long time – thanks to my unabashed sense of procrastination – I haven’t. I haven’t really known what to say. Keiko has built herself quite the readership and become a fairly prominent fixture in the infertility community. I, like many husbands in our situation, have hung back. I’ve been here to provide my unconditional love and support, but I’ve never felt it was my place to speak out. It wasn’t my body that was having havoc wreaked on it and it wasn’t my body by which I felt betrayed.

I have to say, in some ways, I think Keiko’s diagnosis was, to be cliché, a blessing in disguise. Keiko has always been the one on my arm for business events and at various other gatherings of my peers where the attendance of a spouse who knows no one is absolutely required. It’s brought me a lot of joy over the past year to be on the other side of that coin. When we go to an event for RESOLVE or anything regarding the infertility community, Keiko is the one who is in the spotlight, she is the one who is recognized for the hard work she does for this community and I’m the one on her arm. And although I know the only reason she’s even here is because of a condition she never asked for or wanted, she’s been able to turn that pain into motivation and a directed sense of purpose that I’ve never seen in her before... and for that I’m thankful. She asked me to write about my feelings regarding our whole situation, this curveball that neither of us ever expected. It’s hard to sum that up into a few paragraphs, but her strength through the whole thing has been absolutely inspiring.

When we were at the RESOLVE of New England conference last November, Keiko asked me to attend a session that was specifically for husbands of women who couldn’t conceive on their own. I agreed, begrudgingly, because you know, I’m a man. I don’t need any of that stuff. But I came out of it with two very interesting insights.

First was that I wasn’t alone in my philosophy about the whole situation. From the very beginning, I’ve always told Keiko that to me it didn’t matter how we had a family as long as we had one, and no one could stop us from doing that. I don’t care if a child is 100% genetically ours, 50%, or 0%. Genetics only get you so far in life, and to be honest, between the two of us there are plenty that don’t need to get passed on. What really matters is imparting the knowledge and, dare I say, wisdom of my vast 29 years.

Having a family isn’t about a kid who has my hair (which is receding anyway, thanks to my genes); it’s about raising a child with our values and teaching them to have their own. To my surprise, most of the other guys in the group felt the same way. What’s important is the end result: being a family. I’ve felt that way since day one. So while I feel for Keiko with every cell in my body, her condition has never negatively affected my image of her, because regardless of how it happens we’ll always be able to have that family one way or another. And it will never affect her ability to be the wonderful mother I know she’ll be.

The second thing I came away from that group with was slightly more science-y. The guy who ran the session had done vast amounts of research on the emotional toll this situation takes on the husband. He’s found on average men lag about 3 years behind women in terms of emotional response. Now I don’t think that in a year I’m going to be sitting at my desk one minute and bawling the next. That’s just not how I operate. I bring it up though in hopes that some husbands and wives out there may take some solace in the idea that you may not be responding the same way as the other all the time; just because he’s not there crying next to you doesn’t mean or imply that he’s any less affected or that he doesn’t care. We just run on different timelines. It has never been a factor in my level of support for Keiko. My brain just processes the whole thing a little bit differently.

I don’t really know how to end this. I’ve done my fair share of writing, but never on something that’s so personal. I usually wrap up my articles with a succinct piece of poignant advice, but that doesn’t seem so apropos here. So I’ll just say that I hope a point of view from the other side was a little bit helpful and gives just a peek into what may be going on in the mind of those who care for you the most.

Life Before and After Infertility

Mel has a great post this week busting a myth about infertility, about crossing the divide between those who have and those who have not yet resolved their infertility. It's a brilliant post and she describes how we often can mark the moment at which our lives changed forever:

Because for many people, infertility doesn’t have an expiration date.  It doesn’t have an end point.  It is so huge, so emotional, so life-changing that it becomes an event — a divide in a life and the way we count years — the moment before the diagnosis and the moment after.  BD and AD. 

Mel's post got me thinking and I blurted out the following on Twitter yesterday:

I really do believe this. There is a clear cut line in my life experience where before March 18, 2009 I was one version of Keiko and all the days since I am now a different version of myself. While initially I would not have considered myself a stronger person: the depression, the grief, the anger - over time, I've come to a place of strength. I think of lot of that has come from forcing myself to really confront the bevy of emotions, to own those emotions and to self-validate.

It's okay if I'm having a tough time with this, I told myself. This is a pretty devastating ordeal so yeah, I have a right to be upset and grieve.

Infertility isn't the singular experience that has changed me. It's certainly a defining moment in my life, but I am not defined by it. In growing up to be the person I am, I have gone through multiple Before and After versions of myself. Before college I was a selfish spazzy teen with wild hormones who was convinced she'd be a high school music teacher by day, opera star by night. After college I had mellowed out and become highly self-aware and discovered a wealth of value to be found in the field of student affairs.

Before marriage I was a selfish partner who fought dirty and was pretty damn needy. After marriage, I made a commitment to consider my husband a true partner and equal, to agree to sit down and really talk instead of ignoring the issues, and to compromise.

Before infertility, I knew that I might have a hard time conceiving but that it would still happen and that a few years into our marriage, we'd have a little mini-version of Keiko and Larry running around. Before infertility, the idea of parenthood seemed so casual and natural. Before infertility, I thought I'd eventually be the Dean of a college.

After infertility, all of that changed. After infertility I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I am not able to create a genetic child that is both mine and Larry's. Biologically it will be, but not genetically. After infertility, the pressure to build our family and do it soon is almost overwhelming. What once felt so casual now seems like a crazed mission. After infertility, I am committed to serving this patient community in any way I can and want to turn my passion into a career in this field.

Before infertility, I took advantage of my ability to cope, heal, and be strong. After infertility, I have no doubt in those abilities.

And that's why I wouldn't take my infertility back, no matter how devastating this experience has been. Like all these Before and After moments in my life, I have learned and grown from each experience. I'm still learning and growing, who am I kidding; I certainly don't have all the answers and I'm hardly 100% after my infertility. We're still in the middle of it all. But I've developed a level of pragmatic hope and optimism that I didn't really have before I was diagosed. So yeah, if I could go back in time and wave a magic wand... I wouldn't change or take away my experience with infertility.

That said, I know not everyone is in the same place, as Twitter follower Jen pointed out yesterday:

Jen's right too. Infertility is a journey, a spectrum of experiences and emotions. Some days I feel great, like I can take on the world. Other days, I'd rather just stay in bed thankyouverymuch. I know some of you reading this, if you could, would make your infertility vanish from your life's landscape. And I don't blame you. Infertility sucks.

But I'd like to think that the experience teaches us things about ourselves we wouldn't have otherwise learned: that we may be shocked at how jealous we could become, that we may be humbled to see how we've pulled through our darkest hours, that we may be comforted to know that hope lies within us after all.

Bust An Infertility Myth: I Am Not A Broken Woman.

In retrospect, it was fitting that my last performance in The Vagina Monologues was reading "I Was There in the Room." It's a haunting, reverant, glorious monologue from Eve Ensler's perspective of watching her adopted son's child being born. She is present in the physical moment, in the space itself, but Eve is not the one birthing another. It's a noticable void in The Vagina Monologues: there's no monologue describing birth from a birthing mother's perspective. Just Eve's voice as the outside observer.

I often wonder if I will always be a kind of woman who is only there in the room: always observing, but never experiencing the moment myself.

. . .

When I was 18, I had my ovary removed in emergency surgery. Assured that my fertility would endure, I still felt like I was somehow broken. I had written a poem at the time about feeling like a tree with a broken branch.

. . .

She is a Tree of Life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed. (Proverbs 3:18)

. . .

The Vagina Monologues were instrumental in my healing process back in college. They allowed me to shape and define my womanhood, a blossoming young adult woman myself. Performing three years in a row, the show gave me a space to take pride in my womanhood: to celebrate, cherish, and worship it. I performed another two times while working for another college; my final performance a visceral, but beautiful observation of the birthing process. It felt good to perform that monologue.

All this time, my soulmate was at my side. We celebrated, cherished, and worshipped each other. I knew we'd get married. I knew we'd have children together. This is just how it was supposed to be. And we did get married. We talked over our plans and agreed on May 2011: we'd begin our family. We'd give ourselves three years just as two, to grow to three (or more!) after that time.

I was worried about being down one ovary but remembered the assurance from my doctor from many years before: "You'll still be able to have children."

. . .

We had only been married a year and my puzzling symptoms at 26 simply didn't make any sense. In March of 2009, everything changed: premature ovarian failure.

In an instant, "the way things were supposed to be" was robbed from me. From us.

"I have failed you as your wife, as your soulmate, as a woman," I sobbed.

He held my face in his hands, looked me straight in the eye: "You are no less woman to me. You have failed no one. You're my wife and my soulmate and I love you."

"But I'm broken," I said in a voice, barely audible.

"No Keiko: you are not broken, I promise," Larry assured me. "We'll get through this."

. . .

Those years in college and in the years following, I took great pride and joy in being a woman. Sure, I griped about my monthly cycle: the cramps, the bleeding, the mood swings. But I still valued the work that my body was doing (or so I assumed at the time). I knew I was merely paving the way for my body's greatest test, and I would celebrate that too when the time came.

My body, my woman's body: a holy vessel of creation, power, life.

. . .

My infertility tried to rob me of that power. When I was diagnosed, I felt like Someone had taken a giant hammer and smashed my holy vessel to pieces. I am a broken woman, I would tell myself. I wove myself a blanket of shame and guilt.

Those days were the darkest, the days I felt robbed of all that I had celebrated and cherished about being a woman.

This was the myth I told myself.

. . .

In the past year, my voice has gained confidence, strength, and hope:

I am not a broken woman.

I am NOT a broken woman.

. . .

It's not that I think women should be baby-factories, let me be clear. Rather, I see the acts of conception, pregnancy, birth, and motherhood as sacred gifts in the womanhood experience. Our bodies then, are truly vessels of creative - in the truest sense of the word - power.

Yet my womb lies barren. My tree bears no fruit of its own. I am endlessly blessed to live in an age of modern science, where my womb can be made full with the help of a selfless other, a lab, and a little luck. There is no guarantee, but it's the chance I'm willing to take.

And if we can't conceive with help, then we are just as open to adoption. Motherhood without its traditional preceding acts is no less sacred; to parent is no less a gift.

. . .

So when I look at the past two years, at the vastness of what has felt like a decade but has only been just two years - I've come a long way. Each month at the Red Tent Temple, I remind myself and am reminded of all the joyous ways of being a woman in all stages. I leave my titles at the door: Barren. Childless. Infertile. Broken.

And I choose not to collect those titles when I leave.

I am not a broken woman.

I invite you to shed this myth with me. To bury this myth, to banish it from your mental vocabulary, to cast it out from your hearts. Say with me now:

I am not a broken woman.

I am NOT a broken woman.

Now keep saying this - out loud - with me:

I am strong and beautiful. 

I am a force to be reckoned with. 

I am wise and joyous and whole in spirit and grace. 

My infertility is only one facet of the many parts of who I am and I am not a broken woman.

I am not a broken woman and I have yet so many wondrous gifts to share with this world.

My Woman's Work has only just begun.

---

It's National Infertility Awareness Week. Infertility affects 1 out of every 8 couples... like me. Find out how you can participate and provide support to 7.3 million people living with this disease: www.resolve.org/takecharge. This post is part of the Bust a Myth Bloggers Unite project.

Surrogacy Lawyer Radio Show Update: MP3 Available Online

If you missed me on last week's The Surrogacy Laywer Radio Program with Evelina Sterling, you can download the show as an mp3 to listen to at your leisure!

Click here to download Premature Ovarian Failure and the NIAW/PETA Debate with Evelina Weidman Sterling and Keiko Zoll.

As the title mentions, Evelina and I talked about all things POF; Evelina spoke to the more clinical aspects of the disease and I shared my personal experiences as a patient. Evelina also shared how it's now referred to as Primary Ovarian Insuffiency. And of course, we saved a few minutes at the end to chat with Theresa about the whole PETA ordeal.

If you have 54 minutes right now, you can listen below:

Talking About POF Today on The Surrogacy Lawyer Radio Show

Do you have one free hour at 11am PST/2pm EST today? Want to know more about premature ovarian failure? Tune in to Theresa Erickson's The Surrogacy Lawyer Radio Program today to hear me and Evelina Sterling from Rachel's Well talk about POF, menstrual health, and share a few insights on this PETA thing.

Click here to tune in at 2pm EST today!

More info about today's show:

Misconceptions abound about the range and limits of female fertility. Despite concerted infertility education efforts, both the public and young women almost always are shocked to learn that female fertility starts to decline at age 27. But one to four percent of women under 40 will be faced with the even more shocking diagnosis of premature ovarian failure (POF). POF is a loss of ovarian function occurring at too young an age to be considered natural, although premature, menopause. Not only will these young women potentially lose their reproductive capabilities, but they also are at greater risk for heart disease and osteoporosis. A variety of medical conditions can cause POF, but doctors can not always identify one.

On the April 14 episode of The Surrogacy Lawyer: Your Guide to IVF and Third Party Family Building, Theresa Erickson, Esq., will be discussing this rare, but devastating condition with Evelina Weidman Sterling, a highly respected health educator and author, and Keiko Zoll, an infertility blogger who was motivated to become an infertility advocate after her own diagnosis of POF several years ago. The show will air on Thursday, April 14 at 11AM PST/2PM EST on Voice America.

A 2nd Open Letter to PETA: Thank You

---

TO: "Ingrid Newkirk" [IngridN@peta.org]
CC: "Carrie Snider" [CarrieS@peta.org], "HollyAnne Dame" [HollyAnneD@petaf.org], "Tracy Reiman" [TracyR@peta.org], "Dan Mathews" [DanM@peta.org], "Lisa Lange" [LisaL@peta.org]
SUBJECT: A 2nd Open Letter to PETA re: Win a Vasectomy - Thank You
DATE: Sun, Apr 10, 2011 at 2:26 AM

---

Ingrid E. Newkirk, President
CC: Carrie Snider, Special Projects Coordinator; HollyAnn Dame, Membership Correspondent; Tracy Reiman, Executive Vice President; Dan Mathews, Senior Vice President of Campaigns; Lisa Lange, Senior Vice President of Communications
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals
501 Front St.
Norfolk, VA 23510

Dear Ms. Newkirk,

It was recently brought to my attention that PETA has removed all links to National Infertility Awareness Week for your “Win a Vasectomy” campaign. On behalf of the 7.3 million people who cope with the disease of infertility every day:

Thank you.

Thank you for listening to our voices, our emails, our blog posts, our tweets, our website comments, our media coverage, our phone calls and messages, and our petition with 2,200+ signatures. Thank you for listening to your members and supporters who disagreed with this campaign’s tactics. Thank you for listening and hearing the voice of the infertility community. Believe me when I say we are deeply grateful for your decision to retract the association between these two campaigns.

Thank you for recognizing and acknowledging that infertility is not a joke, not a patient community who can be used to promote your organization’s aims at our expense.

I have asked my readers and followers to consider making a contribution to their local animal shelter as a way to say thank you to your organization in the wake of your decision to remove the link to NIAW. I personally will be making a contribution to the Northeast Animal Shelter in honor of this occasion, a no-kill shelter in my community that brought us our two lovely cats Saba and Toro (see picture below).

I do have one final, minute request of a technical note. While the landing page for the “Win a Vasectomy” campaign has removed all mention of NIAW, it appears the directing page under the Features tab still includes the “in honor of” language (http://www.peta.org/features/default.aspx). As someone who has worked with website management before, it appears to be a simple oversight error that this language was listed on this separate page. We would appreciate the immediate removal/updating of this language from the Features page as well if PETA would like to be consistent in honoring its commitment not to further offend our patient community.

Again, I would like to personally thank you, and thank you on behalf of the infertility community for removing the link to your campaign and NIAW.

Respectfully,
~Keiko Zoll
(and Saba & Toro)

Thanks, PETA.

PETA Update #4: Victory!

We did it, folks!

PETA has removed all references to National Infertility Awareness Week from their "Win a Vasectomy" campaign. I've closed the petition and we've come in at just over 2,200 signatures in just 3 days. This is an incredible victory for the infertility community.

Check out my vlog below for more information, and stay tuned for my open letter to PETA thanking them for hearing our voice and responding to our concerns.

Feel free to spread the good news!

PETA Update #3: Close, But No Cigar

It's been a crazy 48 hours. Let's recap:

First I sent PETA my open letter in response to their "Win a Vasectomy" campaign. Then PETA wrote back... and told me to "just adopt." So I wrote them back again (does this officially make us pen pals?) and they wrote me back again with a non-apology apology.

Then PETA issues a broader non-apology apology on their Facebook page that said, in a nutshell: "We're sorry you got so upset."

So then I posted a petition online at Change.org, urging signers to Tell PETA: Infertility Is Not a Joke. And as of 9PM EST today, 1700+ people think that PETA should formally apologize and immediately remove any link between their campaign and National Infertility Awareness Week.

I think this makes me and PETA BFFs now.

Other important things that have happened in the last 48 hours:

• RESOLVE issued a press release formally condemning PETA for their actions.
• As of 9PM EST tonight, 59 blogs have posted open letters to PETA in solidarity.
• Our cause got a fantastic write-up on Babble.com from writer Nichole Beaudry.
• Dawn Davenport weighs in from the adoption community as to why "Just adopt" is probably one of the worst responses PETA could have given.
• Alisyn Camerota, host on Fox and Friends, long-time RESOLVE volunteer who recently appeared on The Today Show talking about her experience with infertility and her volunteer work, made the following tweet: @AlyatFox: Infertility is painful enough without PETA making a mockery of it. For info go to resolve.org.
• RESOLVE launched a "Turn Your Passion Into Action" resource page.

If this wasn't already obvious, the momentum on this campaign has picked up like wildfire. So after all this, how does PETA respond?

By changing "in honor of" NIAW to "during" NIAW.

Click to embiggen.

*golf clap*

Don't be fooled, readers. This isn't the victory we've been after just quite.

What would appear to be a real response is actually just a trollish attempt to appease the masses and probably keep their phones from ringing off the hook.

I've got to hand it to PETA: they rank among the likes of Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church when it comes to walking the line between literal and libel. In sum, I'm honestly impressed at not only how smug PETA is when it comes to engaging with their opposition, but at just how suave their trolling really is. In the battle of David vs. the Goliath, this little blogger is head to head with the pros.

Here's the thing about trolls. They love the attention and the vitriol spewed in the wake of their trolling. They feed on making you angry. That's why apart from this post, I've engaged in nothing but eloquent, well-researched, well-composed dialogue on my end. PETA, for the most part, has done the same, with the exception of telling me that "infertility is justified because the world is overpopulated" and that "as an infertile woman, I should just adopt." In all of my exchanges, I haven't resorted to profanity or name-calling. Believe me: I've been tempted.

But with this little tweak to PETA's campaign website, I'm calling out PETA for what they are: trolls. 

Trolling: an artist's rendition.

I'm not stupid and I know this one campaign has not happened in a vacuum. "Win a Vasectomy" in honor of/during NIAW is not a new tactic; this is merely standard M.O. for these folks. I'm well aware of some of their other controversial campaigns, such as comparing the consumption of meat to the Holocaust. And there's other less overt ways PETA exploits people at the expense of animals: PETA has no problem objectifying women in their ad campaigns.

What's the first rule of the internet? Don't feed the trolls. Here's the thing - I'm confident that PETA went after the infertility community because we're largely silenced; I honestly don't think PETA was expecting a response this vocal. Sometimes you have to feed the trolls - but give them food they don't like, such as solid research and stats, a commitment to no longer contribute to them financially, and mature, well-spoken arguments. If you resort to swearing and name-calling, they've won. You basically have to treat PETA like a small child: speak slowly, clearly, and repeat yourself ad nauseum until they understand. 

By changing "in honor of" to "during" and by issuing apologies that apologize for our reactions and not their actions, PETA is essentially patting us on our heads and hoping we'll go on our merry ways. We can't give in; we have to be relentless. Keep calling and leaving messages. Keep emailing them. Keep sharing the petition with others. Keep tweeting and posting on Facebook. Keep contacting the media (so far only Canada, Ireland and New Zealand have picked up PETA's stunt, but not our response).

If you chip away at a tree long enough, it will eventually fall over. The ball is still in PETA's court to do the right thing, and until then, we need to remind them of that... every day, every hour, every minute.

EDIT: On the flipside, I'd like to recommend Mel's very thoughtful post about this whole fiasco over at Stirrup Queens. It's easy to get caught up in the anger and emotion, but she makes some fantastic points about why this whole thing still matters. It's a nice counterpoint that promotes and encourages thoughtful dialogue about all of this. Check out Why I'm Not Talking about PETA.

An Open Letter to PETA

Ingrid E. Newkirk, President
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals
501 Front St.
Norfolk, VA 23510

Dear Ms. Newkirk,

I grew up listening to Bob Barker reminding me to "always spay or neuter your pets" at the end of each episode of The Price is Right. It's a responsible action to take as a pet-owner, something I've done for each of the four cats my husband and I have rescued from shelters over the years. I can support campaigns to promote spay/neuter programs, as it's something all pet-owners really should be doing anyway. Organizations like the ASPCA have even established mobile and transport spay/neuter programs to reach pet-owners in urban communities, an example of a great community-based program to give pet-owners the access they need to spay/neuter care for their animals.

What I can't support, however, is your latest media-sensationalizing-ready "Win a Vasectomy" campaign offering a free vasectomy to a man who has his pet spayed or neutered during the month of April:



It's not that I take issue with offering a vasectomy as a contest prize, rather, that this entire publicity stunt is in honor of National Infertility Awareness Week.

As you so tactfully state:

Human overpopulation is crowding out animal life on the planet, and dog and cat overpopulation is creating a euthanasia crisis that is a crying shame. Disappearing wilderness, vanishing water resources, and pollution is the price that future generations will pay for more human births...

I recognize that PETA has never been a bastion for balanced, non-violent promotion for the ethical treatment of animals. Your "Win a Vasectomy" campaign in honor of a federally recognized health observance, however, takes your subtle PR approaches to an astoundingly new low.

Why has PETA chosen to exclusively recognize National Infertility Awareness Week? By your logic, if we're to curb human overpopulation, we should be more aware of high mortality rates and causes. Why not American Heart Month in February? Why not Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October? After all, heart disease and cancer are the two leading causes of death in the United States. Why not honor those Awareness Months (and thus those leading causes of mortality) by offering assisted suicides for patients who spay and neuter their pets?

Perhaps I've spoken too plainly. Perhaps poking fun at cancer and heart disease patients to promote your cause isn't the best PR strategy. In fact, it would appear that PETA even supports and awards the work of those in the breast cancer research community. You even said so yourself: "Anyone who wants to see a cure for breast cancer in our lifetime should support this forward-thinking program." So I guess finding cures for cancer is something PETA supports, even though you've said publicly: "We are named People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. There are plenty of other groups that worry about the humans.''

Now that I've had a chance to really process this, I think I've figured it out now: it's not that PETA wants people to die; rather, they shouldn't be born in the first place. And what better way to do this than to celebrate and honor National Infertility Awareness Week by enabling "one lucky man" to be "reproduction-free, free of charge, just like his pooch or feline friend."

I think your meaning is finally crystal-clear to me. PETA has decided that it's acceptable to ridicule, devalue, and trivialize the infertility patient community experience in the name of promoting responsible pet-ownership. By your logic, infertility patients deserve the diagnoses handed to them because we simply shouldn't be having children in the first place. The planet is crowded enough. Our infertility is justified.

It's okay to have a laugh at the expense of the infertility community because they shouldn't be having babies anyway: what a fantastic PETA promotional message. Your "Win a Vasectomy" campaign is tactless, arrogant, hurtful, damaging, insensitive and disgusting.

I guess I'm just a little confused since your organization is focused on the ethical treatment of animals, yet you seem to have a pretty strong opinion worrying about human concerns like overpopulation, or even taking the time to award progressive breast cancer research groups. I mean, you said so yourself- there are plenty of other groups to worry about the humans.

Ms. Newkirk, as someone living "reproduction-free" for the last two years, I can tell you that our patient community experience is not justified nor deserved. While you're offering "one lucky man" the choice to live "reproduction-free," I didn't have that choice. My one remaining ovary stopped functioning and my hopes to ever have my own genetic children were taken away from me without my consent. Overpopulation or not, I still have the right to parent and to seek medical treatment for my infertility. To say that my diagnosis is somehow deserved or justified in the name of population reduction is not only an affront to me personally, but to the 7.3 million other men and women who live with this disease daily in the United States.

RESOLVE, the National Infertility Association and the responsible organization for National Infertility Awareness Week, has dedicated this year's focus to busting infertility myths. Ironically enough, by choosing to honor NIAW with your "Win a Vasectomy" campaign, you've helped to perpetuate many infertility myths in the process. It would behoove you and the members of your organization to perhaps do your homework before initiating such media-ready PR campaigns, but then again, I suppose that was the point.

Unfortunately, even bad press is still press, so I'm hoping my readers will post about their outrage on Facebook linking instead to this post, posts of their own, or the screenshot of the page rather than linking directly to the "Win a Vasectomy" page at PETA. When the success of a publicity campaign is measured in pageviews, it's important that the infertility community keeps your organization from receiving those pageviews in the first place.

It's unfortunate that you launched this campaign at the expense of any kind of financial support from our 7.3 million-strong patient community. I will encourage all of my friends, family, readers, and followers who have previously supported PETA in the past to instead make a donation to RESOLVE in support of National Infertility Awareness Week and ask them to do the same to their family, friends, and readers. I will also encourage them to email you directly at ingridn@peta.org with their outrage over your latest campaign and to share your email address with those who share their concerns.

Perhaps if your organization bothered to treat their fellow humans with respect, dignity, and ethics, more people would do the same for animals.

Signed,
Keiko Zoll
Emailed on April 5, 2011

---

Are you as pissed off as I am? Here's what you can do:

1. Email Ingrid Newkirk, PETA President, directly at ingridn@peta.org to express your outrage.
2. Make a donation to RESOLVE in Ingrid Newkirk's name.
3. Bust a myth for National Infertility Awareness Week.
4. Write your own blog post expressing your outrage, tweet about it or Facebook it. Just don't link directly to the page to rob PETA of pageviews. Here's a handy screenshot instead.

Infertility Ain't No Joke

It may be April Fool's Day, but infertility ain't no joke.

My favorite meme on the intarwebs right now.

Let's tell it like it is, shall we?

• Infertility affects 1 out of every 8 couples in the US. Worldwide, the World Health Organization estimates that as of data through 2002, infertility affects as many as 1 in 4 ever-married women of reproductive age in most developing countries (source).
• Infertility can cause as much stress, anxiety and grief as having been diagnosed with cancer or the loss of a loved one. It's not just a disease; it's a major life crisis (source). 
• Only 15 states in the US currently mandate insurance coverage for infertility treatments. 
• Infertility is culturally misunderstood largely due to media bashing, sensationalization, and minsinformation. (Click each link to read more about specific examples.)

As a result, there are a myriad of myths out there surrounding infertility and ultimately, we run into these myths throughout our journeys. Sometimes we can just roll our eyes when we hear them: "Just relax!" Other myths can deeply hurt us: "Infertile people should get the hint and stop being so selfish."

Anyone else feel like they need to clear the air in the room and set some things straight?

. . . 

As I mentioned last week, RESOLVE's National Infertility Awareness Week, starting just 23 days from now. They have an excellent Bloggers Unite project this year: Bust a Myth!

It's kind of like Bust a Move, but with less Young MC.

We know the myths. We hear them all the time. So this year, RESOLVE is asking bloggers to pick a myth from their list or write about their own. Reflect on the myth and then BUST IT in your blog post. Publish your busted myth post between April 24th and 30th, and your blog will be eligible for the Hope Award for Best Blog at RESOLVE's Night of Hope Awards!

To find out more information on how you can participate, check out the Bust a Myth Bloggers Unite project page here.

. . .

I can't be all doom and gloom for April Fool's Day. If you're looking for a laugh about infertility, head on over to Infertile Naomi's 999 Reasons to Laugh at Infertility. Naomi reminds us of something rather important, no matter where we are in our journeys: "Infertility itself is not very funny but when life hands you lemons, make some fertile lemonade!"

Out Like a Lamb

Hey, so... did anyone see what happened to March?

. . .

Life has been busy. Work calmed down for a bit while students were on spring break (and while sadly, I was still at work). Now it's picking up again as we head into the home stretch toward the end of the semester. We bought a new car somewhere in there. We repainted and redecorated our bathroom. Our cats have been systematically destroying any Apple product with a cord. (They've eaten over $200 worth of Apple products. It's a little ridiculous.) Oh, and our house is legitimately haunted (a post for another day).

And in the blink of an eye, another month disappears from the calendar.

Photo via Flickr by Tambako The Jaguar.  

Baaah, I say.

. . .

I've begun nesting. I'm sure it's largely due to the fact that I just finished 5 weeks of birth control pills and dear old Auntie Flo is bound to make an appearance sometime this week.

I have a bit of an obsessive personality. When we got engaged, I basically lived and breathed wedding planning for 22 months. You might think that's an exaggeration, but it's basically a statement of fact in retrospect. When we found out I was infertile, I read everything I could in print and online. Babies were everywhere. They're all I could think about. Thankfully, I've channeled the baby crazies into infertility advocacy and more positive outlets, but I do get overcome by it once in a while (like baby names - seriously, I can go for days obsessing over names for children I don't even know if I'll have!).

All of a sudden, I've been bitten by the spring cleaning/house decorating bug, and I've got it bad.

. . .

Larry motivated me to reclaim the Room of Doom (my latest name for it). Instead of perpetually thinking of it as the Someday Baby's Room, it's going to become my office for now. Paint it the color I want, put a futon in there, a little desk and some storage and have it be my space. It's also in a quiet part of the house, so it's a perfect migraine relief room.

I have a much longer post sitting in my Drafts folder about my conflicted emotions about this room, but I think I'm at a place to start rethinking about it. Instead of filling it with all this worry and indecision, it's time to take the bull by the horns and make the room mine. Should we be blessed with children, we'll repaint and redecorate as necessary. It's not worth just leaving the room all crapped up because I've got some serious emotional baggage about the space.

. . .

I bought an issue of This Old House magazine (I didn't even know they had a magazine until I saw it at the drugstore). I've been scouring Craigslist and Home Goods and Target and BB&B and Anthropologie and lusting after pretty much everything at Restoration Hardware trying to figure out where I can buy the poor man's version of 99% of what's on their site.

I can't stop thinking about decorating the house. I spontaneously painted an entire bedroom wall last night because we had been putting it off for months.

I've got it bad.

. . .

And so March marches off, out like a lamb.

April brings media: an article in my college alumni magazine, infertility.about.com's Infertility Blog Carnival, and a guest appearance on Theresa Erickson's Surrogacy Lawyer Radio Show with Evelina Weidman Sterling from Rachel's Well. Throw in my sister and her family coming to visit, Passover, and Open Houses here at work... I should savor these last few days of peaceful lamb-like March.

What's new in your worlds? How are you spring-cleaning your life right now?

Redefinition Day: Celebrating Myself Beyond My Infertility

Today I celebrate myself. (Silly hats optional.)

I used to call this day D-Day, for Diagnosis Day. My friend Honeybee has called it my Redefinition Day as I look back at from where I've come in just two years. Two years ago, all I could see was infertility, my life permenently changed and colored by this crushing diagnosis. Last year, I decided to celebrate myself, to move beyond this definition.

I take the time to set aside a whole day to tell myself: "I am more than my infertility." Has it changed me? Yes. It has impacted the ways in which I view the world, myself, and my relationships with others. It has colored my previous notions of what I want to be when I grow up. Does it define me? No. It has nearly beaten me down but I've risen up from its blows as an advocate, a wounded healer, a Warrior Woman.

. . .

One of the things that attracted me to Judaism is the notion of marking time, of sanctifying both the ordinary and extraordinary moments in our lives. There are rituals for births, coming of age, weddings, funerals, but there even the daily ritual of waking up is made holy and sacred. The kashrut sanctifies the very food we put into our bellies, recognizing that even nourishment is a blessing. In Judaism, every moment of life is precious and sacred, and so we mark it accordingly. With the devastation in Japan, there's no greater reminder of just how important it is to cherish each moment of our lives. (Speaking of: want to help the relief effort in Japan? Donate to the Red Cross here.)

It might be easy to paint this now "official" ritual of taking the day off as a way of brooding on something I should move beyond. But when I think about it from a Jewish context, it's almost like a yartzheit. I lost something very dear to me, and so on its anniversary, I choose to remember, reflect, and redefine myself beyond what was lost.

. . .

Last year I took the day off: I got a massage, I did nice things for myself. This year, with all the busy-ness of the last few weeks, I realized I had taken the day off from work but hadn't planned anything in particular. I received a lot of great ideas both in the comments here and on my Facebook page about how I could celebrate myself today.

 

I'm spending the first half of the day getting my car inspected. The lease is up and we'll be turning it in this weekend for a brand new car... details (with pics!) on Monday, promise. Then I'll grab myself a nice lunch. I'm thinking crepes at Gulu Gulu Cafe.

 

Then I'm heading to a zero balancing and massage session. Zero balancing is kind of hard to describe; it's an intergrative approach to energy work and massage, but it basically levels you out. I've had it done once about 5 years ago and I think I'm about due for another session. It's good stuff; it's not just stress-relieving, but leaves me feeling balanced and whole again.

 

After my ZB/massage, I think I'll swing by Cinema Salem to catch a matinee of the Korean film Poetry. The trailer has me hooked, and apparently my local theatre is one of less than ten screens showing it in the country. And then I think I'll get dinner and some drinks with Larry downtown, maybe hit up the Chianti jazz club in Beverly.

 

It's going to be a fab today. I'm looking forward to just celebrating myself for a whole day, of leaving behind year another year from my diagnosis. I wash my hands of the negativity, the doubt, the fear, the stress and rub my washed hands together and say to myself: "What work will I do this year?"

 

. . .

 

That said, even thought I'm sure many of you are at work or have busy lives today, you can help me celebrate too by celebrating yourselves! Even if you have just 10 minutes today, I want you to do something totally for yourself, to celebrate, pamper, and cherish the awesome person you are. Paint your toenails, have a cookie with lunch, go for a walk in your neighborhood, buy yourself a cheap bouquet of flowers, wear your favorite shade of lipstick. Whatever it is, do it for you and tell yourself: "I am effing awesome and I deserve nice things, to be happy, and to take some time for myself today."

 

Leave a comment telling me what you did for yourself today. I want to come back later tonight and see tons of good things you've all done for yourselves!

This Friday is D-Day.

St. Patrick's Day will never be the same for me.

It's not like I roam the streets of Boston half-drunk or anything, quite the contrary: I deliberately avoid the nightlife scene on March 17th. When you work in higher education and your school just happens to be one of the few not on Spring Break, it's not a night that you look forward to anyway, especially when you're on call (like I am again this year).

It's the day after, March 18th. D-Day. Diagnosis Day.

This Friday will be two years since I was diagnosed with premature ovarian failure*.

Last year, I took the day off to relax and celebrate myself; it was pretty glorious. After the last month of truly upsetting anti-choice legislation and more recent legislative news making me physically ill, plus the near incomprehensible scale of tragedy in Japan over the weekend... I'm thinking of doing the same again this year to celebrate? Commemorate? Remember? I'm not sure of the right verb here.

I will be spending the morning getting my car inspected and ready to turn back in as my lease ends in two weeks. But I've taken the day off from work again, like last year. I swear my coworkers must think I take the day off as hangover relief from the night before.

I still haven't planned out the rest of the day. I think it's important that I acknowledge and do something for myself. With work and personal life as crazy as it's been recently, I haven't set aside any time to myself to plan my day. (I also haven't given myself the proper mental space to really reflect on it being two years now.) I'll be free after 1pm at the latest once my car is all done, but hopefully earlier.

It's Shabbos that evening, so perhaps a nice meal, and maybe actually lighting Shabbos candles for the first time in months. Or maybe a massage again. But massages aren't cheap, so I'm looking to do something else free or low-cost.

I'm open to suggestions. Sound off in the comments.

*POF was my diagnosis at the time although the preferred nomenclature is now premature ovarian insufficiency.

The War on Women Has Got to Stop

It started with the hives. At first I thought it was the cats. They'd climb all over me and within minutes, the itching would begin. But then I started getting them at work, I just figured it was cat hair on my clothes or something, not realizing that they almost always coincided with anytime I was reading the news. Then this week on my drive into work, I was listening to the news as usual and a politician of a right-leaning nature said something profoundly dumb and my neck started to itch. In a matter of minutes, my neck was covered in hives. I realized that no, this wasn't the cats.

I've been getting physically ill from the news.

If it isn't the madness in Wisconsin, it's that Qaddafi is bombing his own people from the air. Oh, and then I stumble upon this gem:

Indiana Bill Would Force Doctors To Tell Women That Having An Abortion May Lead To Breast Cancer (source).

No, it's cool. I'll wait for you to clean up your spit-take. It took me a minute when I read that, too. Here's the quick rundown (emphasis mine):

House Bill 1210, introduced by Indiana state Rep. Eric Turner (R), would... require physicians to inform a pregnant woman seeking an abortion that the fetus could feel pain and require patients to view an ultrasound. A patient could get out of doing so only if she stated her refusal in writing. But one of the most controversial portions of the bill is the part that would require doctors to inform women about the risks of abortion, including "the possibility of increased risk of breast cancer following an induced abortion and the natural protective effect of a completed pregnancy in avoiding breast cancer."

The American Cancer Society (ACS) and other major health organizations, however, have rejected this theory. In February 2003, the U.S. National Cancer Institute brought together "more than 100 of the world's leading experts who study pregnancy and breast cancer risk." They found that neither induced nor spontaneous abortions lead to an increase in breast cancer risk. In fact, the risk is actually increased for a short period after a woman carries a pregnancy to full term (i.e., gives birth to a child).

. . .

I may have mentioned on here that it feels like the government is out to get women. I have been hesitant to start delving into politics on this blog, but folks... I'm getting hives I've been getting so stressed out about this. Infertility has made me feel powerless in some ways, but the stuff I'm hearing about on the news lately has made me feel powerless in much bigger, scarier ways.

After reading this latest article and learning that this new piece of legislation was introduced by a Republican (SHOCKER), I need to get on my political soapbox.

Ladies, and the gents who support the ladies in their lives: there is a Republican-led war on women happening right now. I've been trying to dance around this as much as possible both here and on FB and Twitter, but I just can't anymore. Where are the Dems proposing this kind of legislation? Oh right- they're too busy focusing on trying to get the Federal budget passed and maybe create some jobs for everyone.

I get it. I get that people were frustrated around midterm elections in 2010, so everyone voted in all these little whippersnapper Tea Party Republicans, like a breath of fresh air in a stale room. And now it's like the joke is on America, and more specifically, American women. With wave after wave of anti-choice, anti-woman legislation, I feel like everyone is finally starting to see this new Republican party's true colors... and they are ugly, ugly colors.

Reader Sonja sent me an article that sums it all up rather nicely with some rather convincing arguments. As terrifying as the implications in the article are, it's nice to know that I'm not losing my effing mind, that this isn't all just in my head: Female Sexuality Still Terrifying to Conservative Lawmakers (source).

. . .

I need to bring this back 'round to why on earth this all should matter to you, why it should matter to the infertility community. Like I said in my last post about anti-woman legislation, we must start fighting back as a unified community of women or we are going to get trampled by the cultural norming of misogyny in America. So why should this matter to us infertile folk?

Think about it like this: is this the kind of America in which you want to raise your kids for whom you've so desperately longed? The kind of America that wants to treat women with recurrent miscarriages as criminals worthy of death row?

Or how about the kind of America that blames an 11-year-old girl for her own gangrape by 18 men? Yeah, spit-take on that one, too. I actually gagged when I read about that this morning. Do you see why I might start breaking out in hives reading this garbage?

This is not my America. This will not be my neice's America. And this will not be my children's America. I have had enough. The War on Women has got to stop.

And if it persists, then we must fight back. We need to educate ourselves and stop putting our heads in the sand or turning off the news when it gets too much to bear. Believe me, I know how easy it is to think about nothing other than, "When am I ever going to have children? Will I ever be able to have children?" but we've got to think about the world we hope to shape for our children one day.

Besides educating ourselves, we need to come out in huge numbers. There is nothing more powerful than an educated mass of people. We need men to stand with us. We need to be writing about this on our blogs, posting articles and resources on Facebook and Twitter, and talking about this with the women and men in our lives. We have to become a chorus of so many people shouting so loudly from so many places there's no possible way they can ignore us.

. . .

I'll be honest. I don't really have all the answers on what we can do. But I'll keep writing and talking about this. I hope I don't lose some of you along the way because of political differences because the case I'm trying to make is that regardless of where you stand politically, this kind of legislation can and will impact our access to infertility care. I fear it's a short leap from preserving fetal rights to denying infertility treatment coverage. It becomes not just a discourse on having children, but who deserves to have children at all.

Please tell me this isn't all just in my head and that I'm not getting hives because I'm crazy. Please tell me that there are others of you out there who have felt like I do and have had enough of it all. And if you think I'm wrong, tell me why- give me sources, facts, figures.

Because seriously? They don't make enough Benedryl for these stress hives I've been getting.