Sometimes life without kids is awesome.

Infertility sucks, I admit that. But sometimes, life without children isn't necessarily always a bad thing. I figured it's a long holiday weekend for most for the 4th, so it seemed appropriate to share a vacation story to illustrate my point.

Let me tell you about the Corvette.

Back in January 2009, Larry and I took a road trip from San Francisco to San Diego. Our airfare was paid for with credit card points - roundtrip. We had friends in the major cities along the way so we didn't have to worry about hotel costs. And we even had a discount on our rental car. We we hoping to snag a Nissan 350z convertible. When we arrived at SFO, the rental car company had totally screwed up our reservation and informed us there were no convertibles on the lot.

Well... no convertibles except for the premium tier Corvettes.

This really should be the preferred mode of transport for all California road trips.

To which we said, "Um- yesplease." And because the rental car company had screwed up, we got it at the same price as what we would have paid for the 350z.

When Larry put the key in the ignition for the first time and it roared - literally roared - to life, we started laughing hysterically at the absurdity of the situation. It was a hard top convertible and our luggage (two carry-ons packed to the gills) just barely fit in the trunk when packed down with the hard top. And lucky for us, the weather forecast was glorious for the next five days.

That car was a beast. We tore up the freeways and the Pacific Coast Highway was both terrifying and beautiful at the same time, as we whipped around hairpin turns at upwards of 40 mph with hundred foot drops into the Pacific Ocean just inches from our tires. When I wasn't having height-related panic attacks, it was pretty damn incredible.

The Pacific Coast Highway, just north of Big Sur.

We took this trip just a few months before I was diagnosed. At any rate, I vividly remember turning to Larry at one point, the sun beating down on us, my hair in tangles as it caught in the wind and saying:

"I know I've been baby crazy lately, but there's no way in hell we could strap a car seat to the back of this monster." I mean, it was physically impossible: there was no back seat.

"Yeah, this is nice," Larry agreed.

While life without children can be frustrating and sad, there are other times that Larry and I really take advantage of our childless status.

Take eating, for example. We don't have to scramble to find a babysitter or load up Team Zoll #3 into the car anytime we randomly decide to go out to eat. Many of the places we go aren't exactly baby-friendly either: Marliave, Les Zygomates, B&G Oysters, Highland Kitchen, the Lyceum here in Salem... Right now we're looking forward to our reservation at Menton to celebrate Larry's new job. We rescheduled our reservation from our wedding anniversary and we've been talking about it for months.

Our insane multi-course kaiseki meal in Arima, Japan.

While it's totally possible to be a foodie at home, we love to go out to eat. Without children, not only do we have the freedom and flexibility to do so, but the extra money, to be quite honest.

Traveling is certainly easier. I can't imagine 13 days in Japan with a small child, at least not with our itinerary. We're planning another overseas trip sometime in the early fall, hopefully to the Bretagne region of France. Again - much easier to plan and do without children. (To be very honest: I have no idea how you even get a passport for an infant.)

And then there's the random things: fishing for a few hours at a stretch in Rockport or Gloucester, like I did this weekend (and got the worst sunburn of my life). Now, if we had children, it's very likely one of us would have to stay home with the little one while the other one gets to sit out overlooking the Atlantic with a bucket of bait and hours to kill.

The first fish I ever caught off Burton Island in Lake Champlain.

Or the spontaneous movie night decision, like when we saw The Trip last week (food porn galore, witty banter, but oh G-d, depressing as hell ending). If it wasn't for our need for dinner immediately following the movie, we would have stayed to see the Conan O'Brien documentary playing right after, rolling home close to midnight.

For as painful as infertility can be sometimes, it's just nice to have that freedom and flexibility as a family of two right now. That's part of how we make this journey easier for ourselves too; we take advantage of that freedom because we know things will be very different once we have children.

A lot of that freedom will be lost so we'll have to get creative to still maintain at least a smidgen of our current lifestyle. Maybe we don't get out to Marliave so much and we end up cooking a little more gourmet at home. Maybe we don't get out to the movies as much but that's what Netflix is for. And traveling with small children is more than possible, but we'll need a little time to figure it all out.

But until then, we're going to enjoy our time as us, because sometimes life without kids is awesome.

See? No room for a car seat behind us... and that's okay for now.

5 Infertility Books for Great Summer Reads: Good Eggs

Welcome back to my Infertility Summer Reading review series! Tune in every other Friday this summer for a new review. Check out the schedule of reviews below. You can even grab your own copy of the books reviewed by clicking the book covers under the Infertility Summer Reading List to the right. Feel free to start reading ahead or wait until after the review goes up. Either way, do join along and share your thoughts in the comment section!

Infertility Summer Reading Series Featured Books

1. Conquering Infertility by Dr. Ali Domar - (Read the review from June 3)
2. Inconceivable by Carolyn and Sean Savage - (Read the review from June 17)
3. Good Eggs: A Memoir by Phoebe Potts (Today's Review: July 1)
4. Silent Sorority by Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos (July 29)
5. Navigating the Land of If by Melissa Ford (August 12)

Good Eggs: A Memoir by Phoebe Potts

Recommended to me by: Mayyim Hayyim

The Review: It seems like such an unlikely medium for an infertility story, but Good Eggs weaves the story of Phoebe Potts' life in such a unique fashion it's hard not to resist the urge to pick up a copy. I had heard excellent things about this book and when I was at a class on infertility and ritual in the Jewish tradition at Mayyim Hayyim, a progressive mikveh center in Newton, single page prints of her book were on display in a featured art exhibition. They had out copies to peruse and as I waited for the class to begin, I read the first third of the book. I finally bought my own copy and finished it this week in anticipation of today's review.

It's hard to describe this book: yes, it's an infertility story, but it's much more than that. Potts describes her life growing up, her tumultuous and at times strained relationship wit her mother, and her lifelong struggles with debilitating clinical depression. We see very tender and poignant snippets of her courtship and marriage to her husband Jeff as well as a wandering narrative about her brief year in Mexico. Throughout all of this is their quest to conceive.

Potts illustrates the painful reality of unexplained infertility. By all accounts, she and her husband are perfectly normal. Yet after timed intercourse, several failed IUIs and IVF cycles, they still don't have any luck. The uniqueness of the graphic novel format allows us to literally see her thought bubbles in the very moment of each scene. As readers, we become witness to a continous running inner monologue in a way that traditional autobiographic narrative fails to provide.

Good Eggs is a much a resource for those coping with mental illness as it is for those dealing with infertility. Potts' frank portrayal of The Voice - her monstrous, self-deprecating inner monologue - is perhaps one of the most vivid and honestly accurate depictions of what it's like to live with depression.

Potts also shares the way in which her Jewish faith has been impacted by her infertility, as both a conflict of faith as she sits during High Holiday services and listens to the story of Hannah, and as inspiration as she considers becoming a rabbi. I was left feeling like the word "exploration" was the theme of her story as she seeks to discover herself and what fulfills and sustains her.

While I try not to post spoilers, I will say this: the book does not end with a nice, neat ribbon on it, all tied together in a "another infertile couple success story" bow. Potts's journey remains unresolved. However, she leaves the door open for what the possibilities for parenthood could be. This ending really resonated with me because it's a narrative ending you don't often see - that lingering, unresolved ending that leaves you deeply investing and thinking about Phoebe and Jeff well after you finish the book.

Potts' illustrations are quirky and even whimsical at some points, with much detail crammed into each panel. I found it interesting that I most quickly identified characters by their hair, as Potts draws their hairstyles with such distinct detail. Good Eggs is rife with a rich story and characters but at times the narrative feels wandering and clumsy. While flashbacks in the storyline were generally introduced, we are suddenly snapped back to the present storyline in an abrupt and sometimes very confusing fashion.

I would have also appreciated just a smidgen larger book size. While 9x6 is a pretty standard book size, Potts' illustrations are so detailed that sometimes it's hard to spot the little hidden gems in each panel, such as witty puns (a box of tissues labeled Tish B'av, a Jewish holiday of mourning) or running gags (her cat's appearance in many panels included a running commentary of its thoughts). And with little visual footnotes and descriptions tightly packed into each frame, the size of the book made them difficult to read at times.

Quotable Moment: After multiple failed IUIs, Phoebe begins to confront the possibility that things may not work out. In a full page panel, Phoebe sobs in her husband's arms as he holds her and says, "Oh, sweetie. It's going to be OK. We're going to have a baby." Woven throughout the panel is the following:

"It's in Jeff's job description to say the things I need to hear even if they are not true when the alternative is just too hard to take."

Rating: (out of a possible 5 tasty pomegranates)
Good Eggs presents the infertility experience in a truly unique medium, giving very literal insight and emotion to very intimate moments along their journey. Despite an awkward narrative and panels almost over-drawn in their detail, Good Eggs makes the brave choice to tell an unfinished story and in the process, still leaves the reader feeling hopeful.

Food for Further Thought: Last year, Potts and I were featured together in an article for Tablet Mag, an online Jewish magazine. (Read Breeding Ground here.) We both spoke about how we channeled our infertility struggles into artistic creations: Potts with her graphic novel, me with my What IF video.

Graphic novels have been fighting their way onto the literary scene as early as the 1980s with Alan Moore's Watchmen. In fact, much controversy surrounded Watchmen when it was awarded the Hugo Award in 1988; sci-fi authors critics were up in arms that a "comic book" won perhaps one of the highest honors in the sci-fi genre. Other graphic novels like Art Spiegelman's Maus: A Survivor's Tale, depicting his father's life as a Holocaust survivor, have gone on to win the Pulitizer Prize. Then there is Marjane Satrapi's autobiographical work, Persepolis, which went on to be made into an Oscar-nominated animated film.

Good Eggs has been nominated as Best Book for RESOLVE's Hope Awards this year. Given it's non-traditional medium, do you think it deserves recognition as best "book?" Do you think graphic novels should rank up there with the classics, modern and old? And do you think a graphic novel is an effective way to tell the infertility story?

Have you read Good Eggs? Krissi over at Stress Free Infertility has and just reviewed it this week too. What did you think?

Have you voted for Good Eggs as RESOLVE's Best Book? And have you voted for Best Blog yet?  

Sound off in the comments and have a fantastic holiday weekend for those of you celebrating the 4th in the States. Be safe folks!

Feminism is Not a Four-Letter Word

Whether I call myself a women's health advocate or Vagina Warrior, it boils down to this:

I'm a feminist.

(Shocker.)

What a loaded word, right? Images of unshaven armpits, gross looking white-girl dreads, floppy bra-less boobs, a man-hating smirk on my face, my fist raised in the air. Now, granted, if this describes you... um, cool! More power to you. But it's not me. And honestly, that's not what feminism looks like.

Feminism looks like women and men who want to take the world by storm to make the world a safer, better, more empowered place for women and girls. If you want men to stand by your side and advocate with you, feminists can't be man-haters. Are there some feminist man-haters? Sure. But if feminism is going to make any kind of global impact, it's got to be a collaborative effort between both sides.

Why the heck am I talking about feminism? A few reasons, actually. First, to be an advocate for women's health is a pretty fundamental aspect of feminism. It's about leveraging equal access to healthcare. Second. Esperanza at Stumbling Gracefully has a post that asks the question "Do we want too much?" and third, Schmoopy in our Prompt-ly Writing Group posted a link to a Guardian article that asks Why is feminism still so afraid to focus on its flaws?

The two are truly interrelated and it got me thinking about stereotypes that even I've held about what it means to be feminist, who is and is not considered feminist, and what it means to want more than we have.

Me at a campus protest, circle 2003. Photo by Julie K.

I took a few women's and gender studies courses in college. I was both vice-president and then president our of GLBT student alliance. I performed in the Vagina Monologues. As a young empowered woman in my early 20s, I was rockin' the feminist label and damn proud of it.

Like so many things in my early 20s, I wouldn't really appreciate all of it until now, as I approach my (gulp) early 30s. Feminism has become less about the rallies and the petitions and the student activism for me. Feminism for me has now become an active effort to make good in the world for women and girls where I can with the strengths and talents I have to offer. I blog about infertility and women's health. I blog about why we need to care about the cultural norming of misogyny in America. I support and promote the work of the Red Tent Temple Movement. I think very intentionally about the kind of world I want to shape for my niece and hopefully, my own daughter should I be so blessed.

I've been doing the SITS Girls 31 Days to Build a Better Blog (SITS31DBBB). Much like their Bloggy Boot Camp blogging conference I went to in May, I am out of my league here. I'm one of a very small group (as in, you could probably count us all on one hand) of infertility bloggers participating. SITS is a very Mom Blogger focused forum of support. I've stuck with it because I've got a lot still yet to learn about blogging and as I've come to realize from reading both Esperanza's post and the article Schmoopy shared - I've got a lot to learn about feminism too.

Did I turn my nose up at Mom Bloggers? A little, yeah - I'll be honest. Part of it was jealousy - I want what they have. Part of it was being judgemental - how can nothing but reviews and giveaways be good for the blogpsphere? But as I've spent the last 3 weeks interacting and networking with these fabulous ladies, I've realized my stereotypical judgments were wrong. The Mom Blogger niche is just as varied and valuable and has as much to offer as the ALI blogosphere. I'm realizing it's time to stop passing judgment and start taking a closer look at blogs outside of my niche to see what I can learn.

Oh Diane is one of those Mom Bloggers I've met through SITS31DBBB and she posted a fantastic post on why the Mommy Blogger market is so hot right now. What followed in her post comments was a fiery discussion about why Mom Bloggers get all the attention from advertisers while may of us childless folks sit here twiddling our thumbs.

My point is this: Mom Bloggers - and Mom Blogging in general - can be feminist too.

The Guardian article elaborates:

"Women bear the children and, far more often than not, they wish to be the primary carer for those children. At its most strident, feminism can be mistaken for an ideology designed to make women feel they are wrong to want that."

Mom Blogging is not counter-productive or counter-intuitive to feminist ideals. Even when I was in college, I got horrified looks from other college feminists who were shocked - shocked I tell you - that I didn't really care what my degree was in because I eventually just wanted to be a SAHM and pump out babies.

This is the point: it's not about creating an army of empowered career-women. Feminism is about having  equal access to and support for making empowered choices, be it career, motherhood, health or otherwise. Wanting to be a SAHM mom - like my own mom was when me and my sister were kids, a fact that I am so grateful for to this day - doesn't make me any less feminist. The fact that the Mom Blogger market is growing says to me that women's voices in social media and technology are rising, and people (especially advertisers) want to hear what they have to say.

Which brings me to my last point: does feminism want too much? Again, from the Guardian:

Worse, feminism has accidentally promoted the idea that it's pretty easy to work and have children, with the right support in place. On even an average income, it's never easy, even once children are at secondary school (though it's certainly easier then). Your priorities change. Work is no longer the most important thing, for a while anyway. Ambition can dissipate.  

Let me rephrase that: do we want too much? In fact, let's drill that down again:

Do I want too much?

Take a look at what I grew up with: a mom who stayed at home for the most part, picking up seasonal part-time work to pad out Christmas and birthdays. My father still works almost 60 hours a week. He traveled extensively when I was much younger, leaving the brunt of the child-rearing to my mom. I'm stating this as fact, not to pass judgment. This was what worked for my parents and they were in agreement about their roles as caregiver and provider, respectively.

I grew up with a big, two-story house with two cars. My sister and I went to public schools and college. We pretty much got to do just about any lesson or extra-curricular we wanted. We lived in comfortable New Jersey suburbia. For the 18 years I grew up and lived in that house, this is what The American Dream looked like to me.

Is it too much to want the big, single family house? Is it too much to want a husband that brings home the bacon while I stay at home and serve as primary caregiver to our gorgeous genetic children? Is it fair to place that kind of burden on my husband?

Folks, I struggle with this. These are things I want really bad, I can't necessarily have and boy howdy, I don't like taking No for an answer.

But let's step back for a second: in an time of record foreclosures, a flailing economy, and my seriously busted reproductive system, The American Dream I grew up with isn't realistically even possible anymore. 

Esperanza challenges us:

"The reality is, we might not get to be what we want to be, or we might have to sacrifice greatly to get there, and the same can befall our children. If certain lessons are learned; that frequently life brings disappointment, that sometimes their is no just reward for our efforts, that we must be grateful for what we have and stop continuously looking for more, that sometimes we won’t be happy, maybe, just maybe, we will wake up one day knowing how to be satisfied with our life.And maybe some day, if we’re very lucky, we can learn to be truly happy with what we have."

I counter with this:

If the status quo was okay though, we wouldn't need a feminist movement in the first place. And you know what? After all this, after this huge and rambling post, it's not about feminism anymore.

It's about being active participants in shaping a just world.

Feminist labels aside: where do we fit in to shape that world?

Where do you fit in? How are you helping to shape a just world?

Post-Fathers' Day Confessional

Hey love.

I had a wonderful Fathers' Day with you and your parents. I'm so grateful they don't feel like in-laws, just extended family. I totally admit I was kind of bitchy all day Sunday. You thought it was because I didn't sleep well Saturday night and wore (as usual) inappropriate footwear to romp around the city all day or that I was annoyed at the huge mass of people in Mike's Pastry while trying to order a damn cannoli.

In truth, I was grumpy about it being Fathers' Day and my inability to make you a father of your own this year. I want nothing more than to make you a Dad.

I wish my ovary hadn't conspired against us. I wish I could go back in time and catch this at the pass. I wish we had it easier.

But then again, I suppose that wouldn't be any fun, would it?

I know you've assured me that you're not disappointed in me, that you love me no less, that it's okay because there's always next year. You're a phenomenal husband like that.

It still stung this year. It hasn't in years past, but just like Mothers' Day this year, I felt that little tug in my chest, the hesitation in my breathing.

That pause -

- of knowing how this all was supposed to be. We fell in love at fifteen, for Pete's sake! We had a swooning, epic, teenaged love affair with a dramatic break-up, only to be followed by a "this may as well have come straight from a rom-com screenplay" reunion, and then seven years of an amazing relationship, followed by a (very long) engagement and one helluva wedding.

Next stop: kids.

Let me clarify. Next stop: genetic kids. Little half-you half-me babies, crawling around with their luscious black hair, their pale, soft skin, and their giant noses.

This was the way it was supposed to be.

Like I said in my tear-soaked semi-meltdown Friday afternoon: those children will never exist. We have to live with ourselves knowing that Those Children we dreamed of one day will not exist.

I know it doesn't necessarily upset you; I know you're just happy to raise a family with me, no matter how we build it together. But it hurts me to know that I will never meet Those Children.

I put on my big girl pants and my brave face all the time but I think as we really start to get closer to treatment, all the feelings I've pushed aside in the name of advocacy have begun rearing their ugly heads. Mothers' Day was just a warning shot really. Fathers' Day has all but confirmed this for me.

I love you so fucking much. And even though I want nothing more than to be able to create what I consider one of the most ultimate expressions of mutual love with you - I can't.

And it kills me to know that I can't do that for you.

For us.

I could give you everything else you've ever wanted, but I can't give you That Child, our half-you half-me baby. I would give my life for you and yet I can't give you Children of Our Own.

So it wasn't that I was too sun-kissed or that my allergies were a nightmare on Sunday. I was a beast all weekend because I'm struggling again with self-esteem issues in the wake of some otherwise very confident happenings in my life. Because I feel like a failure in the face of so much accomplishment.

And no matter how strong and beautiful and loved I may be, I carry this on my heart. It's a heavy burden.

And I'm so grateful to have you carry this burden with me, to lighten my load and gladden my heart.

When we broke the wishbone leftover from Passover on Friday, I'll tell you my wish, since I didn't break off the bigger end:

I wished with all my heart this was the last Fathers' Day we celebrate without a child.

---Yours always.

5 Infertility Books for Great Summer Reads: Inconceivable

Welcome back to my Infertility Summer Reading review series! Tune in every other Friday this summer for a new review. Two weeks ago I reviewed Dr. Domar's Conquering Infertility. This week I review the truly remarkable story of Carolyn and Sean Savage in their memoir, Inconceivable. Want to join along in the reading fun this summer? Check out the schedule of reviews below. You can even grab your own copy of the books reviewed by clicking the book covers under the Infertility Summer Reading List to the right. Feel free to start reading ahead or wait until after the review goes up. Either way, do join along and share your thoughts in the comment section!

Infertility Summer Reading Series Featured Books

1. Conquering Infertility by Dr. Ali Domar - (Read the review from June 3)
2. Inconceivable by Carolyn and Sean Savage - (Today: June 17)
3. Good Eggs: A Memoir by Phoebe Potts (Read the review from July 1)
4. Silent Sorority by Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos (July 29)
5. Navigating the Land of If by Melissa Ford (August 12)

Inconceivable: A Medical Mistake, the Baby We Couldn't Keep, and Our Choice to Deliver the Ultimate Gift by Carolyn and Sean Savage

Recommended to me by: Terri Davidson, Davidson Communications

The Review: The story begins like so many other stories in the infertility community: a couple thaws their frozen embryo, it's implanted, and whether by luck or blessing, it sticks. But for Carolyn and Sean Savage, their story and world were turned completely upside-down within this otherwise simple narrative. On February 16, 2009, the Savages learned that Carolyn was pregnant with another couple's frozen embryo. The child she was carrying was genetically - and legally - not theirs. In that moment, they made the ultimate decision to carry the pregnancy to term, and at the risk of Carolyn's health no less. Upon delivery, the Savages would relinquish the child to his genetic parents, Shannon and Paul Morell.

The story moves at an incredibly fast pace although it's obvious from the Savages where their nine months seemed endless for them. Carolyn and Sean's journey is fraught with intense emotion; Carolyn struggles with the sense of connection and longing she feels to her biological son, knowing legal relinquishment can never sever the unique bond she shares with him. Sean meanwhile operates in full-protector-mode, trying to stay focused on what is ultimately best for his wife. When a previous pregnancy nearly killed her, he carries a heightened sense of protection for her knowing that she's potentially risking her life for another couple's child.

The Savages and the Morells initially make contact through letters via their lawyers. The chapter where the Savages read that first letter of contact is just so jarring in its anger and disappointment. There's so much that was left unsaid that the Savages so desperately wanted to hear from the Morells. I get the impression in reading the book that a lot of those sentiments they so longed to hear never were said during the course of their journey. It's not that the Morells were ungrateful, but they certainly could have been more sensitive.

As devout Catholics, they faced criticism from their Diocese instead of support, as the Church condemns the use of IVF. The Savages argue that on the day they found out Carolyn was pregnant with someone else's child, they made the ultimate decision to choose life, a greater principle in their eyes than whether or not they used IVF in the first place. Inconceivable is as much a story about a spiritual crisis and journey of faith as it is anything else. (Sean Savage wrote an amazing piece in May further expanding on how the Church reacted to their story for CNN and is worth a read - My Take: Catholic Church should reverse opposition to in vitro fertilization.)

While you always know the inevitable end to the story is coming - as the Savages did too - you're just not prepared for the emotion. From Chapter 18 on, you better have a box of tissues handy. As the story built with such an unresolved sense of closure for the Savages concludes, they share their considerable emotional toil beyond just Logan's birth. I won't spoil it here, but there was a chapter to the Savage's story that was largely unpublicized by the media that adds a considerable layer of depth, emotion, and heartbreak in the face of everything else.

Inconceivable concludes with some of the legal matters as the Savages pursued the clinic that initially made the mistake, detailing exactly how such a life-altering error could happen in the first place. It is both shocking and infuriating as you read how events unfolded and the carelessness that went unchecked at multiple stages in the days leading up to Carolyn's transfer. Inconceivable is a gripping story right to the very last page.

Quotable Moment: Sean describes the moments after Logan was born and before he was given to the Morells with painful clarity and sums up the enormity of their story:

"As Carolyn held Logan to her chest, I could barely contain my emotion. Fifteen hours before, she had held him inside her, now she was holding him on her chest, and a few hours from now he would be gone with the Morells in Michigan. How would we pack a lifetime of love for this child into a few minutes?"

Rating: (out of a possible 5 tasty pomegranates)
The book arrived at my house at 2:25pm. I had finished reading it by 5:51pm that same day: I literally could not put it down. The book is well worth every single pomegranate it has earned. A compelling story of extraordinary circumstances, the Savages tell their story with candid, raw emotion. Inconceivable teaches us about the life-changing impact of a single mistake, the enormous hearts of two devoted parents, and how to cope when confronting the inconceivable choices we may face in our own lives.

Food for Further Thought: There are two sides to every story. Shannon and Paul Morell wrote their own version of events in their book, Misconception: One Couple's Journey from Embryo Mix-Up to Miracle Baby. I won't say the Savages were unkind to Morells in their version of the story, but Carolyn's recurrent disappointment and even outright anger were more than palpable in their book. The Morells have this to say in the introduction of their book, released nearly a year before the Savages' book:

"So why would two very private people expose their personal health information to the public and write a book about how their baby ended up inside another woman's womb? Because through our ordeal we have discovered so many misconceptions...

So though we are not at all comfortable in the spotlight, since we find ourselves here, we do not want our pain or experience to be wasted or our joys and gratitude to go uncelebrated. It is our hope and prayer then telling our story many misconceptions can be cleared away, leaving nothing but the truth."

In some ways, I feel like even in their very introduction, the Savages' portrayal of the Morells doesn't seem that far off. To be fair, I haven't read Misconception, but I won't lie - I don't feel terribly inspired to read their story have read the Savages' first and from skimming what pages are available through Simon and Schuster's website.

Have you read Inconceivable or Misconception? Did you follow the Savages' story last year? What part of their story shocked you the most? And don't forget to tune in again in two weeks when I review the wildly popular graphic novel, Good Eggs by Phoebe Potts.

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!

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.

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.

The John Locke Approach to Infertility

Yesterday I was in a very glowy, lovey-dovey mood. It was our leather anniversary - how could I not be? Wait, that sounded a bit too kinky, let me clarify: it was our third wedding anniversary. It's amazing how quickly the time flies. I think we're officially on the tail end of being considered newlyweds, but don't forget - we've been dating since we were 15 (with a year off somewhere in there) so we've got a few more years under our belts than our official three-year badge of honor would have you believe.

I'm really lucky. I have a pretty rockin' marriage. Sure we fight and get snippy or stay up until 1am with the occasional shouting match, but we also have a lot of fun, take care of each other, and stand by one another. I'm very grateful for sharing my life with Larry.

So, it makes this next sentiment sound a bit ungrateful, but I'm going to own how I feel: after three years, I thought we'd be parents by now. You can see how that might not be the most grateful thing to think of or say the day after your wedding anniversary. The thought flittered through my head at one point yesterday, and I deliberately pushed it out. Not today, I told myself, today is about celebration. Today, I feel awful that I feel this way at all.

When we got married, in fact, on the first day of our honeymoon in front of Peter Pan's Flight in the Magic Kingdom, we talked about our family planning timeline. Three years, we told ourselves. I, of course, always bet on the early side of things so in my mind at the time I'm thinking: three-year anniversary = babymaking night of bliss. And of course, because the media has told me so, BAM! September 2011 baby it would be. In a way, finding out just a few months after our first anniversary that I have POF was a blessing in disguise, saving us from heartache later down the road and pushing our timeline back even further.

And, as it turns out, we're still basically on track. I casually, off-handedly asked Larry the other day if he thinks I'd be pregnant by 30 (this very stubborn benchmark I'd set for myself years ago) and he thinks so. I may not be popping out a baby on May 25, 2012, but well on our way. We're hoping to get the DE/IVF ball rolling by December. So technically, we're right on target with our original plans.

Still, even with my diagnosis, I feel like there's this sense of urgency, even though in a lot of ways, infertility allows us to really put family building on our own timeline more than just natural conception. My biological drive only exacerbates the "you can't do this the way you wanted to" scenario.

Which brings me to our dear John Locke.

No, not that John Locke. This John Locke:

Locke had a saying on LOST: "Don't tell me what I can't do." It was his mantra. Did that drive him on an insane power trip that nearly cost the lives of all the islanders, including his own? Yes, but now we're straying too far from my metaphor.

Shocker: I don't handle being told "No" very well. I'm a fighter. Some might call me stubborn or even needy, but what it boils down to is that I put up one helluva fight. I wanted to be a mom by age 30 and/or my third anniversary, whichever came first. I'm told I can't have my own children so making those milestones might not happen the way I hoped I'd be able to.

And thus, the John Locke Approach to Infertility™: Don't tell me what I can't do.

Like John Locke, instead of making me power-hungry, being infertile has made me baby-hungry. Hm, that sounds uncessarily cannabalistic. Infertility has made me motherhood-hungry. So while I feel bad about how I feel today, I own it. I'm not pushing it aside or wallowing in it. I take ownership of the fact that I've been told I can't have something I really effing want... which of course makes me want it more.

And like Locke, I'll have to get creative in order to get what I want. For Locke, that meant pushing a button every 108 minutes, killing a Portuguese mercenary, and periodically traveling through time (yanno, like ya do). For me, it means using donor eggs and utilizing IVF.

But don't tell me what I can't do... because I'm only going to fight that much harder to do it. I've got the fighting spirit down - now I just need the patience.

Three Years Ago Today

I took your hand and spoke with purpose:

Matzati et she'ahava nafshi
(I have found him, whom my soul loves)

Three years ago, I remember my veiled perspective:
surrounded by family and song, my excitement lulled
into comtemplative anticipation as the rabbi lead us in niggun
her wordless, haunting melody reaching deep within me
 
In this sacred silk space around my head and face
I knew I would exit a different woman
someone's wife - your wife
my veil lifted as though my world awakened
the first light of our many tomorrows
 
I remember the corners of the red napkin we each clutched with desperation
as our friends and family lifted us high over their shoulders
the Hora playing loudly, everything whirling around us like a carnival ride
 
The feel of your hands as we exchanged rings
the first I had felt your touch all weekend
as you recited words that have echoed across
five thousand years
I felt holy and connected, my soul
rejoicing, relieved
 
gladdened to have found
the one
in whom I
delight
 
. . .
 
What a remarkable three years it has been, and here's to many, many more adventures together.
 
Happy anniversary, love.

June ICLW: Elementally Speaking

Howdy! Thanks for stopping by for June's ICLW. (Learn more about the ICLW here and see how you can sign up for next month.) I've got a few previous ICLW intro posts to get you up to speed: ABC's of Me (November 2009), April 2010, and May 2010. For this month's intro, I think I'll try something a little different: looking at my life right now through the Four Elements. Intrigued?

The Four Elements of Me

Earth: What Grounds Me ~ Roots and Foundation
+ My husband, Larry: totally my rock, my love, my soulmate. We've been married for 2 and a half years. We were high school sweethearts from 1997... do the math. We've been together a long time and are still madly in love with one another.
+ My family: My mom, my papa, my sister Jasmine and her husband Neal - these are my core. Then Larry's mom, dad, and sister - just as much family as my own blood. And soon, probably sometime this week: Willow! My niece-to-be, the first grandchild, the little darling we've been waiting 9 months to meet. You can count on a post about her later this week since my sister will be induced on Friday :)
+ My faith: I'm Jewish. But I put an equal amount of faith in the goodness of humanity, the beauty that surrounds us daily we often take for granted, and in the sovereignty and power of the collective creativity of women. I ground myself by redefining the world around me, and walking forward with faithful steps in the world I've created.

Water: What Moves Me ~ Transition and Flow
+ My health: it's been in a varying state of flux. I have premature ovarian failure, diagnosed in April of 2009. I have Hashimoto's thyroiditis. I recently learned I've got degenerative arthritis in my lower spine. Oh yeah, I'm 28. Thankfully though, my thyroid appears to finally be stabilized after a year of ups and down, my my POF is being treated with HRT.
+ My job: Recently promoted.
+ My home: We are house-hunting, and hope to have a formal offer in to the seller by COB today.

Air: What Lifts Me ~ Joy and Celebration
+ Food, music, the arts, photography, flowers, Hell's Kitchen, Weeds, LOST, Radiohead, indie music, Vampire Weekend, MUSE, art house cinema, Bach Cello Suites, cooking, our trip Japan last year, camping, fishing, reading, writing, writing my book, RadioLab, The Moth, This American Life, taking the time to literally stop and smell the roses.

Fire: What Consumes Me ~ Passion and Perseverance
+ Having a family: The timeline has been pushed back significantly since we're buying a house, but we plan on adopting an infant domestically. We're skipping fertility treatments altogether.
+ My advocacy: I've recently decided that I am an health advocate, fighting for infertility treatment coverage and research. It all started with this video. The content of my blog has shifted slightly from mostly about me to more about the greater ALI blogosphere and what we can all do to be everyday advocates. I am also RESOLVE of New England's newest Board member on their Board of Directors!
+ My writing: I do it all the time. I've been keeping a journal in print or electronic form since I was in 7th grade. This blog is a continuation of that, but I'm starting to branch out to other places like Examiner.com and hopefully more paying opportunities. I'm also writing a book about my experience of converting to Judaism three years ago.

Looking forward to meeting new folks. Happy ICLW and happy commenting!

Image used with generous permission by the artist, Alida Saxon, copyright 2010.

Dude, it's Men's Health Week!

Spread the word about Men's Health Awareness! Do it for your brothers, your sons, your dads, your husbands, your uncles, and your best boy buds. June is Men's Health Month and this week is Men's Health Week. It happens every year the week before and including Father's Day. I wish I had prepared for this week, because I would have lined up some male-factor IF posts. I do plan to post about the elusive male point of view in the next month or so. Until then and in celebration of Men's Health Week, I'll list some great infertility resources for the men in our lives.

I've also posted an article about Five Myths of Male-Factor Infertility on Examiner.com. Check it out!

Male factor infertility is the sole cause of a couple's infertility issues in about 30% of cases. Female factor accounts for another 30%, and the rest are either unexplained or a combination of the two (source: RESOLVE.org). Infertility is not just a woman's problem, and even when the issue is female factor, it doesn't mean it's not affecting her partner. Here are some great resources that I've come across:

+ Men’s Health Week: A Time for Men to Step up to the Fertility Plate: Dr. Geoffrey Sher of the Sher Institute and puts a call to action for men facing infertility. Read the complete blog post at IVF Authority.

+ Men and Emotions: "Despite the fact that approximately 40% of infertility is attributed to male factors, it appears that men are not as willing or as able as their female partners to talk about their experience. Perhaps this is because we traditionally think of children as a woman's province." Read the rest of the article here at RESOLVE.org.

+ The Semen Analysis and the Men's Infertility Workup: What to expect from your doctor (via RESOLVE.org)

+ Psychological Issues in Male-Factor Infertility: "In general, the man’s reaction to infertility has been viewed by mental health professionals as taking less of an emotional toll than his partner’s... Little room is left for dealing with his own feelings of loss and sadness. This conforms to society’s gender expectations in which men are not given permission to express deep feelings of loss..." Read the rest at the American Fertility Association website.

+ Get Thee to a Urologist!: The title says it all (via AFA).

+ Fourth Anniversary of the Death of My Sweet Baby Boy: A brilliant resource out there for men coping with loss. The articles and entries shared on this site are a resource for men and women alike (via GrievingDads.com).

+ Making Sex Fun While Trying to Get Pregnant: Mandatory sex is no fun. About.com offer's some advice to spice it up!

+ Coping With Mother's Day and Father's Day: With Father's Day approaching, this can be a tough time of year for men and couples struggling with infertility. RESOLVE has some great advice to make it through the day.

+ Add your resource in the comments below! Blogs, articles, websites: all are welcome.

The Game of L-if-E

I titled my post today thinking about LIFE, a game I didn't actually start playing until I moved in with Larry 6 years ago; I never owned the game growing up, but Larry took his set when we moved in together. We've played it maybe a dozen or so times. It's one of those game that I'm like, "Oooh, let's play LIFE!" and then I forget how much of a pain it is to setup and kind of boring to play once you get into it. But I've been thinking a lot about it in the last 24 hours, and the fact that our favorite acronym, IF (infertility) is right smack dab in the middle of it.

On our drive home from our awesome weekend in NH last night*, Larry asked me if he thought we should pay off our credit cards with the money we currently have in savings. (*General updates on life lately at the bottom of this post). If we did this, we'd have about $1500 left in savings. We've worked really hard to save what we have so far. I'm all for paying off credit cards (I managed to successfully pay off two very high interest cards with over $10K in debt with the help of a debt management plan 3 years ago), but I'm reluctant to let go of our nest egg so quickly. We rarely live on credit anymore, compared to six years ago when that's just about all we had (and thus, what caused me to nearly drive us completely into credit card debt).

Our conversation shifted to the old debate again: do we buy a child or a house? Because let's face it: adoption or DE/IVF, we're still "buying" a child. It's not a pretty thought, but it's our reality. If we were to soften it, let's say we're buying "a shot at parenthood." We then drifted our conversation into very uncharted waters: choosing to live childfree.

Advantages: not worrying so much about money (hopefully) in that our resources would not be spread across three family members; the ability to travel more; more freedom in general; buying lots of cool things because we are rather consumerist people by nature. Disadvantages: Oh... you know... that whole "not ever having kids" thing. We decided that ultimately, we feel like we'd regret not having kids together, but it was a worthwhile argument to float out there, see what that felt like for a few minutes. We gained a new found respect for some of our childfree family friends in the process, as we talked about their lives and what they're able to do as a result of being childfree.

With my current job situation all topsy turvy (it's so complicated it makes me a little nauseous thinking about it) and my desire to move out of higher ed, we're faced with having to find our own place to live for the first time in three years. We've done the renting gig before, but our first apartment experience was a rare one: we rented a condo, paid no utilities, and our rent only went up $100 over the course of three years. Did I mention this place had a washer/dryer and dishwasher in unit, free parking for two cars, allowed us to have pets with no deposit, and air conditioning? Yeah, we live in a much different rental market. Boston/Metro ain't cheap. This has been quite the wake-up call in recent weeks.

So now the question is, do we rent or buy? I don't want to keep pissing away money by renting, especially when we've managed to save so much. But we've basically got enough money to afford either a 3% down-payment on a very modestly priced home, or all of the initial payments for adoption. The problem of buying a home in MA is that if we want to live anywhere nice, convenient, or T-accessible, there's nothing under $500K. We're in the $200-300K market, and $300K is pushing it. I don't want to live in Lynn, South Boston, or Dorchester. If we buy a home, I don't want to buy a "starter home" (that term drives me insane). I want this to be the place we put down roots, which for us, is a daunting prospect considering we've lived like gypsies the past 6 years.

It's like the game of LIFE. Here's this little formula you're supposed to follow: education, career, marriage, house, kids, blah blah blah... And here's your stack of starter play money. Sadly, we don't have that starter stack of cash, and the stack that we do have we're holding onto for dear life. Spinning our brightly colored decision wheel isn't just a part of playing the game: it's a real gamble for our future. It's frustrating and disconcerting sometimes. My husband likes to remind me that this is all about opportunities but I suppose I can be a bit of a pessimist, and all I see is struggle.

I hate this feeling of inaction, of holding dice in my hand with a wide swath of possibility before me, unable to commit to anything right now, afraid to roll a wrong number and making the wrong decision.

The game of life is really the game of "if."

(Photo by Meganne Soh  via Flickr.)

General Updates:
Thanks for an awesome ICLW last week! Great to meet so many new people and add more blogs to my Reader. Sorry I've been MIA the last few days; Larry and I spent a weekend in Lake Winnipesaukee at a friend's lake house. Limited internet access left me virtually off the grid all weekend. We had an amazing time and felt refreshed and relaxed. We did a ton of fishing (I caught 14 sunfish and Larry managed to snag a 2lb smallmouth bass!) and had a great time with four of our friends. I even managed to survive a weekend with a 6 month old and two dogs ^_^ Here are some of my favorite photos from the weekend:

Two years and still head over heels

Yesterday Ari and I celebrated two years together. It's kind of nuts, what we've been through in the first two years of marriage already, but we've come out stronger and closer. I'm still just as in love with him as the day I walked down the aisle. We went to a lovely French bistro for dinner, and he surprised me with my anniversary gift: an edited video of our wedding! We knew we had footage of our wedding, but it disappeared among family for almost a year and a half, and finally made our way back into our hands about 6 months ago. Ari recut the footage and we watched our whole ceremony (I never realized just how long our wedding ceremony was - almost 40 minutes!) and some speeches, the Hora, and some quintessentially NJ wedding dancing (Guns N Roses Livin' on a Prayer, Journey's Don't Stop Believin, and DJ Kool's Let Me Clear My Throat). It was the first time I'd really seen anything other than our pictures, and it was fun to relive those moments that feel so long ago, but in truth, were only two years ago.

Since it was the cotton anniversary, I made us t-shirts that say Team Z---, Est. 2008. On the back of Ari's it says 01 in big athletic numbers. On mine, 02. And yes, I bought the very first item for the child I don't have: a youth sized small t-shirt. The plan? When we get there, making another Team Z shirt with a big 03 on the back. And I bought it not b/c I'm pining for an impossibility, but b/c I'm excited for the future and feeling really hopeful.

A year ago, we had just gotten back from a whirlwind 5-day tour of California (San Fran to San Diego). I had baby fever like whoa, but right after the trip, it had calmed down somewhat. You can't really fit a carseat into a 2-seater Corvette Converible and just hop on the Pacific Coast Highway on a whim. And then 2009 just went to shit.

2010 has already started on a much better note. We're still going strong, we're feeling more comfortable in our family building plans, and things on the Ari's job front have really picked up. He's got an interview next Friday, a company that reached out to him and asked him to apply, another company that's willing to create a full-time position just for him, and then the latest... well, he may as well have gotten an offer letter last Thursday, quite spontaneously. He got a one line email from a former colleague: "How do you feel about Miami?" After a very positive conversation yesterday where numbers got thrown around that weren't laughed at, things could get very interesting for us very quickly. I'm still on the fence about moving and starting over again, but if the money's good... sometimes it's worth it to sellout in the short term for long term investments.

Other good news? My lady bits are feeling like lady bits again. I'm in this constant state of feeling like I'm PMS-ing, so that's a good thing, right? Who knows what's going on down there, but for now, I'll take it.

Only one small gripe, out of all this goodness lately... I got my first "so when are you having kids" comment, ever. My sister posted a lovely status wishing Ari and I a happy anniversary, and wishing us a year filled with good things. A commenter added "And another baby!" Commenter has no clue about our situation, as far as I know. It's all good- a harmless, throwaway comment from someone I've talked to maybe twice in my life- but even after almost 11 months, it still lands weird. Had this comment been made 6 months ago, different story. I can look at this momentary gripe as a way of looking at how I've grown.

Does my diagnosis still hurt? Absolutely. Do I still wish I could have my own genetic children? Every day. But have I let my infertility consume me? Despite my IF coloring the way I look at the world, has it defined me, defeated me?

No, no it hasn't.

It's not so much that I've moved on or moved past this, rather, I've accepted it, accepted what I need to do to move forward from here, and accepted that I'm still an ok person, and that even though my life isn't going according to plan (does it ever??) I'll make it work.

And I'll come out stronger in the end.

In other news, I will hopefully find out if I'm going to be the Auntie of a neice or nephew a week from today... exciting! Spud has not been cooperating very well during u/s - Spud's a bit camera shy. My bets are on a girl. Everyone else seems to think it'll be a boy. Hopefully we'll know more in a week!

My Two Week Wait

Ha! Gotcha didn't I?

It's two weeks until my two-year wedding anniversary. It's pretty crazy to think that this time two years ago I was finalizing seating charts and making lots of illegal photocopies of wedding programs at work, and, amazingly enough, still tracking down RSVPs (we had a few stragglers).

I remember thinking- how is life going to be different? We'd already been living together for almost 4 years at the point, and dating for over 7 years at that point. We'd been engaged just shy of 2 years - I mean really, how could things be different for us?

On the morning of my wedding, at 7am, I went for a run. I am not exactly a "go for a run" kind of lady, but I put on something warm, loaded up my iPod with all sorts of girl-power tracks, and jogged/ran about 2 miles on the track at the park near my parents' house. I had a nice long conversation with myself about being a good wife to my husband, but at the same time thinking "What does that even mean?" As far as I and a lot of other people were concerned, our wedding was just a formality. Ari and I were long committed to each other - we were soulmates, we were in love - that's all a marriage needs... right?

While it didn't happen the moment we signed our ketubah, there certainly was a mental shift, a sense of both belonging and responsibility unlike that which I've felt before. Ari wasn't just the guy that helped pay half the rent anymore (to be fair though, I don't think I ever regarded him in that light; it was more to make a point). Suddenly, decisions about big purchases or jobs or whatever took on a whole new perspective; having a spouse carried a greater sense of responsibility unlike any I'd really been able to understand up until that point. I felt, curiously, like a grown up for the first time.

I went to a peer-led RESOLVE support group last week, and another woman there had a similar experience to Ari and I - female-factor, early in the marriage, Dx before TTC. She stated that she felt like her infertility has unfortunately defined so much of their marriage. In a lot of ways, I can really relate. Just a couple of months after our 1st wedding anniversary, we get handed a bombshell. And then a layoff. And then lots of other craptacular stuff that just rained down on us in 2009. But here we are, 2 weeks away from anniversary numero two, still intact, albeit a little bruised.

Amazingly, what could have driven some couples apart has managed to bring us closer together. Our marriage has never felt stronger. My friendship to my husband has never felt deeper. I used to be paranoid, in the fiancee days, that we wouldn't have anything to talk about as we grew old together. How wrong I was: we talk all the damn time, from the latest internet meme to vacation plans to deep philosophical crap on the meaning of human existence. Sometimes a conversation might just be fart noises and butt jokes. Sometimes we have these moments of complete crystal clarity: vulnerable, terrified, and desperate for validation. But always, we are there together, side by side, and ready to take on the next big adventure.

It's weird, after everything we've been through, it's hard to believe it's only two years, cuz damn, it feels like 4 or 5, easily.