Living with Infertility: Take Two

Sometimes it's hard to believe I've been living with infertility for over two years. The anniversary date of my diagnosis holds some prominence for me each year; it's the rest of the days in between that feel like a blur, emotions from either of the extreme ends of joy and sadness coloring each day a different shade on this spectrum of coping.

As we inch closer to the next steps in our journey, I find myself looking back at some of my first posts, looking to see the ways in which I've grown and changed in these last two years.

I was drawn to this post: Things I Wish I Could Tell People About Grieving My Infertility, first posted in April 2009. I had reposted this list from World of Winks, a former ALI blogger and now special-needs parent. I had written this post just a few weeks after I was diagnosed.

I had posted 10 items from her list and added my own commentary of where I was at that emotional stage as a newly diagnosed infertility patient. I think it's time I circle the wagons back and take a second go at it, this time making it more of my own in the process.

Instead of just wishing I could tell people about just my grieving process this time, now I'm simply just going to tell people what my experience is like with just over 2 years under my belt. Rather than just a broad, generalized list of things, this is now very personal to where I am at this moment in our journey.

Things I Want You to Know About How I Live with Infertility

(version 2.0)

1. You can talk to me about my infertility and how I'm doing. It doesn't matter whether you're a friend, family member, new reader or random internet stranger - stop by, introduce yourself, say hello. Ask me your questions. Understand that I have a right to bristle if your questions or comments are insensitive but I'll do my best to tell you why they might have been inadvertently hurtful.

2. Infertility is now a major part of who I am, but I am not defined by my infertility. I recognize that I live with infertility like any other disease. I'm on hormonal treatment for the lasting health effects of POI and plan to seek treatment to address the fertility effects. I seek fulfillment in my life through a variety of other avenues: volunteering with RESOLVE, writing, the Red Tent Temple, fishing, and a host of other hobbies and interests. In all these things, I am just as much infertile as I am woman, wife, sister, daughter, etc.

3. I'm still grieving. I may not be overt; just because I'm not having daily crying jags doesn't mean that I'm not sad about being infertile sometimes. As I've mentioned in previous posts, getting ready to begin the donor egg process has stirred up some emotions I thought I had put to rest but haven't. Coping with loss is a recurrent emotional process in the infertility experience.

4. Pregnancy and birth announcements are still painful, but not in a lingering, crippling way anymore. I still cry when I get the news that so-and-so is pregnant or that so-and-so just gave birth. I am of course joyful but also insanely - but instantly - jealous. The weight doesn't last for days now; it's a momentary near-Pavlovian response. I cry for a minute or two, I wipe my tears, and I share my congratulations. That said, if you can tell me in an email or leave me a voicemail, I find it better to cope and process later.

5. Just because I talk about infertility all the time, I'm not contagious, I'm not bad luck, and I'm not a downer. I'm just infertile. Has infertility opened my eyes to a level of skepticism and pragmatism I've never encountered before? Absolutely. But just because I "like" (relative term here) to talk about infertility, I'm trying to give voice to a rather silenced disease. Raising awareness about infertility helps me to cope and heal because I know that I'm helping others cope and heal in the process. Ironically enough, it has been that through this experience I have found my life's work.

Homework assignment time.

Head back to some of your first posts on your blog. If you blog about infertility, what stuck out for you? What did you find yourself writing about the most? What's changed since then and how have you grown? Share an old post that's stuck out for you in the comments below and tell us why it resonates with you now.

Happy Birthday to My Favorite Niece

Of course, you're my only niece... but still. Uncle Larry and I are so excited to see you grow from the tiny baby we saw on the day you were born into a lovely young woman. I can't believe it's been a year since you were born. I'll see you in just a few hours, but while I'm on the road, I want to share my birthday wishes for you with the whole wide world.

Happy First Birthday Willow!

It's amazing to believe one year ago today you were just a tiny little baby, all swaddled up...

Now look at you:

How absolutely beautiful. Your Mom & Dad make adorable-lookin' babies. 

Watch out boys: we got ourselves a heartbreaker here.

Happiest of many more birthdays to come, Little One!

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.

The Ghosts of Birthdays Past

Photo by Manuel Bahamondez via Flickr

Tomorrow, I turn 29. I'm on the brink of my thirties. It's very strange to think of myself as a soon-to-be 30 year-old. I can't really milk the whole "young adult" thing anymore. I guess I'm... *looks around uncomfortably* an adult. It's funny how I've marked that status for myself over the years: I wasn't really an adult until I graduated college; and then when I had to pay my first rent in my first apartment; when I got my first car; when I landed my first full-time job; when I got engaged and then married; when I leased my first car; when I bought a house...

It's like I've kept pushing back my own adulthood status with each major life event. But at 29... well, now I'm pushin' it period.

Working in higher ed for the last 6 years, this is the first time in my life I've ever really felt the distance between my life experience and the those of my undergraduate students and even graduate colleagues. Try explaining the burden of having a mortgage to someone who's biggest financial worry is about using all their meal plan points by the end of the semester; it's the first time in my life that this age disconnect has ever felt so distinct.

It doesn't sit well with me because I like to think "I'm with it, I'm hip... taka taka taka!" But the fact of the matter is, most of my students have no frame of reference for that previous sentence. College freshmen this year were born in 1992. Austin Powers didn't come out until 1997. I was a freshman in high school. They were five.

This is the first time in my life I genuinely feel old.

. . .

So I refuse to end my pre-birthday post on a such a downer. I thought it would be fun to do a little retrospective of all my birthdays in my twenties. Because once I turned 20, of course I was an adult, so I got to party hardy. So here goes:

2002: Jazz Hands
When I turned 20, Larry and I headed to Philly for a night of good eats and even more delicious music at Ortlieb's Jazzhaus. It was a narrow, tiny little place where we literally sat within two feet of the stage, the jazz jumpin' and the food divine. We felt so grown up.

2003: Under the Boardwalk
When I turned 21 I did what any self-respecting Southern New Jerseyan does: I headed to Atlantic City for the weekend to gamble and drink the night away. I didn't win big and the drinks were pretty watered down, but the buffet the next morning at the casino was the stuff of dreams.

2004: A Blah Birthday
I turned 22 just days after graduating from college yet had to take a couple of classes at my local community college to finalize some credits. I had spent all day in class and had a terrible summer cold on top of it. Larry took me out to dinner with a friend of ours. My nose was so stuffy I couldn't taste anything. I think I was in bed by 10pm.

2005: 23 Skiddoo
My first birthday in our first apartment together. Larry baked me a scrumptious (looking) hazelnut chocolate cake. When we ate it that evening, I made a comment about how it was really sweet that he made me a cake... but that the cake itself wasn't very sweet at all. Larry double-checked the recipe and saw that it had no sugar... it was a diabetic recipe!

2006: The Worst Way to Celebrate a 24th Birthday
We went to Friday's and rented Hostel. My birthday was a little overshadowed by getting engaged the previous month but I mean, Hostel? Really? Why did I think this was an okay way to celebrate?!

2007: Happy 25th: Here's an Air Conditioner
We moved to Massachusetts the day before my birthday in 2007. The drive was long and tedious. Moving in all of our stuff, with Larry's dad's help, was just as long and tedious. The next morning we headed to Home Depot and bought our first window AC unit. Oh, and Larry bought me a peace plant. That I never watered. And then it died. And then we moved out of that place six weeks later.

2008: A Ghostly 26th 
I have always wanted to stay in a haunted hotel. Larry booked us a lovely room at a haunted inn in Concord. The most haunted room was already booked, so we had the room across the hall. We had a lovely stay except I didn't get any sleep. I was so excited about possibly having a ghostly experience that I stayed up all night looking and listening for things to happen... and nothing did. Still, it was a lovely weekend just the same.

2009: Guns. Massage. Meat on Swords. And Earrings.
I turned 27 with a literal bang. I went to the shooting range with Larry and another friend and fired my first gun. I had a nice spa day massage. We capped it all off by heading to a Brazilian BBQ with a huge group of friends. Dee-lish!

2010: I'm Melting, I'm Melting
We went to the Melting Pot last year. I was particularly excited because I love fondue. My birthday was unseasonably hot last year and the Melting Pot we went to didn't have their AC turned on yet. So there we were, sitting at essentially an open stove top in a restaurant with no AC on the hottest day of the year so far. That said, it was still delicious and worth the heat.

2011: The Fruits of the Sea
I disovered on our anniversary this year that I like love oysters. This year we're headed to B&G Oysters, a Barbara Lynch joint right in the heart of downtown Boston. My goal is to consume nothing but oysters and champagne. I'm also getting a saltwater fishing rod. Now that we live literally less than a mile from the ocean, we don't need fishing licenses to fish in saltwater. And Larry assures me there's one other surprise related to our sea-faring theme, so I can't wait to find out tomorrow! And, my interview about our infertility journey should air tomorrow night at 11pm on WBZTV Boston. It's going to be a fabulous night indeed!

So there you have it, my Ghosts of Birthdays past. What's been your favorite birthday? How did you celebrate? What did you get? Dish, people, dish!

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.

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!

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 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.

Gearing Up for Night of Hope

Night of Hope is tomorrow night, sponsored by RESOLVE. I've got the dress. I've got the shoes. And more importantly, I've got the Award (well, at least on paper - no plaque yet).

Then why do I feel so woefully unprepared for tomorrow night? Why am I so nervous?

I've always been a pretty confident public speaker, extemporaneous or prepared. If I need to get up and do a dog and pony show for people, I'm your gal. I make it happen. Hell, I've got a beauty title and a perfomance at Carnegie Hall under my belt - all before the age of 18. In an alternate universe, Keiko Zoll is a world-reknowned opera star. Needless to say, I don't really have a problem getting up in front of people.

For tomorrow night, I've got a minute and a half to say any remarks once I receive my award. I've known since July that I received this award. And yet... I still haven't written an acceptance speech. Why is this so hard? Why am I so petrified about tomorrow night?

There is the chance for celebs to be there, true- Night of Hope is being emcee'd by Fox and Friends Weekend Anchor, Alisyn Camerota amd The View has been awarded The Hope Award for Achievement. Could I be hobnobbing with Barbara Walters? Maybe... I don't know! But the possibility both thrills and terrifies me.

Me, who's performed five times in "The Vagina Monologues," talking about lady bits in front of complete strangers - is nervous about possibly bumping into the ladies of The View.

I'm excited, don't get me wrong. A whirlwind 48 hours staying in a ritzy Manhattan hotel (hooray for Larry's Marriott points!) and spending the day with my mom. Getting all dolled up. And oh, receiving the Hope Award for Best Viral Video. It's been a slow day at work today and I've had a hard time concentrating because I am so excited. And I'm nervous too. It's getting down to the wire and I really need to write my acceptance speech.

But before I say anything tomorrow night:

Thank you - each and every one of you who read my blog, who watched my video, who forwarded it to their friends and colleagues and sisters and daughters and friends, who posted it to Facebook, your blog, Twitter, and all those corners of the internet.

I could have never won a Viral Video Award if it didn't go viral, and I have every single person who hit play to thank for that.

Thank you for watching, reading, advocating, sharing, and above all else:

Thanks for not giving up hope.

I'll be tweeting and prolly twitpic-ing my way through the event tomorrow, so make sure to follow @miriamshope for a little live-tweeting throughout the night. And if I meet any celebs, you better believe there will be pics! You can also check out other live-tweeters by following #nightofhope.

It's going to be a great night and even though I'm nervous, I can't wait. Wish me luck folks.

My First Big Giveaway!

We've hit 200 posts, 200 followers, and 200 likes on Facebook. I think it's time for that long-promised giveaway! I'll be giving away five- yes, you read that right- five items for this giveaway! This is my way of saying thank you for sharing my work out there and being advocates in your own ways. I keep writing and doing this for y'all, so... thanks everyone. You all rock my socks ^_^

Kristen Magnacca, author of Love and Infertility: Survival Strategies for Balancing Infertility, Marriage, and Life, has generously offered one copy of her CD version of her book for this giveaway. Love and Infertility was honored with RESOLVE's inaugural Hope Award for Best Book last year at their Night of Hope. Her book is a wonderful resource to infertile couples, as described on her website:

Love and Infertility focuses on the importance of sharing and communicating so that a couple can move successfully through infertility without the stress of becoming all-encompassing and overwhelming. With honest humor and candid personal accounts, Kristen reveals tips, exercises, and rare bits of wisdom to guide couples through the hardships of infertility.

Joanne and Susan, the fabulous ladies behind Circle+Bloom, have generously donated one program of the winner's choice from their website! I personally have used their Energy for Empowerment program and I can't praise their products highly enough. From Joanne's soothing voice to the soul-stirring sense of body empowerment, Circle+Bloom is really the first product of its kind that specifically compliments each phase of a woman's cycle, whether she's trying to conceive naturally or through IVF/IUI, or simply trying to maintain a healthy pregnancy. Circle+Bloom is a truly innovative resource for all stages of your journey with a long list of testimonials to back it up, including:

“Circle+Bloom is a very important tool in the fertility kit. The Circle+Bloom audio mind-body program perfectly provides the support I need each day of my fertility journey. The audio meditations and visualizations so well-researched and well-crafted that I recommend it to every friend trying to conceive.” - Donna, via email.

Find out what three other goodies I'll have in this giveaway and how you can enter behind the cut!

Five (5) Fabulous Prizes Up For Grabs

1. Love and Infertility CD

2. Circle+Bloom Program of Your Choice

3. A pair of my handmade pomegranate earrings that I made for 200th Facebook follower, SomedayBabyT:

4. One very gently read copy of The Infertility Cure by Randine Lewis. If you're exploring Traditional Chinese Medicine as an avenue in your journey, this is THE book:

5. A 15"x15" unframed print of Tranquility by artist Alida Saxon, as featured in my June ICLW intro post:

How to Enter
There are ten (10) possible ways you can enter to increase your chances of winning, as described below:

+ 1 entry = Leave a comment on this post. You may comment as many times as you like, but only your first comment will count for a total of 1 entry.

+ 1 entry = Post the following tweet: "I've entered to win some neat prizes @miriamshope's first giveaway, have you? Details here: http://bit.ly/9r6aup" You may retweet as many times as you like, but only your first tweet will count for a total of 1 entry.

+ 1 entry = Leave a comment on the Giveaway thread at my Facebook page. You may comment as many times as you like, but only your first comment will count for a total of 1 entry.

+ 1 entry = Become a follower of this blog. If you already are a follower of this blog, please mention that in your comment to this post with however your follower name is displayed.

+ 1 entry = Become a follower of my Facebook page. If you already are a follower of my FB page, please mention that in your comment to the Giveaway thread on my FB page.

+ 1 entry = Follow me on Twitter @miriamshope. If you already follow me on Twitter, please mention that in your comment to this post with your Twitter handle.

+ 4 entries = Write a blog post about this giveaway. That's right, this will earn you multiple entries! Your post must include my name (Keiko Zoll), my blog title (Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed) and a link to this post (http://hannahweptsarahlaughed.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-first-big-giveaway.html). Once you post it, you can comment here, tweet me, or leave a comment on my FB page with a link to your post.

Deadline to Enter
All entries must be received by 11:59pm EDT on Tuesday, August 31, 2010. That means all your tweets, comments, blog posts, and follower statuses must be made by that time. Five (5) individual and separate winners will be selected at random using Random.org sometime between September 1 and September 5, 2010. That means, once a winner has been picked for one prize, their name will be removed from selection of all other subsequent prizes. (I wanna spread the love here.) Winners will be announced on my blog sometime the week of September 6, 2010.

Good luck!

Happy ICLW: 200 Posts, 200 Words

If you’re here from ICLW, welcome! For past ICLW intros check these out: June '10, May '10, April '10 and November '09.

I can’t believe I’ve written 200 posts already. For this celebratory 200^th post, I wanted to commemorate the occasion with something that captures the essence of this blog. So I took the text from all of my important posts and created a word cloud using the 200 most frequently used words in those posts.

I used Wordle to make this. Neat, huh?

200 posts in 479 days... That comes out to about a post every two and a half days. Boy howdy, have I been writing a lot! I've kept journals all of my life, and in times of great crisis, I always find myself writing the most. It only made sense then to write about my greatest life crisis to date. I started this blog as a way of coping; I chose a public online format because I desperately needed the support of family and friends in those early months and I figured a blog was the best way to not only put myself out there emotionally, but to provide a tool for education.

Writing has been truly therapeutic to that end, but my blog has evolved into something bigger than just my infertility struggles. From this very introspective personal journey, my words have spread outwards. On the heels of 200 posts and looking forward to hundreds more, I hope the writing that has soothed my heart can continue do the same for others.

Thanks for reading along. I've hit the first of two milestones I'd like to reach before I do my first giveaway... as of this writing, I'm at 169 followers. Once I hit 200 followers, I'll be doing my first giveaway to really celebrate 200 posts and 200 followers as a way to say thank you for stickin' around to read my crazy foilbles and follies.

And stay tuned this week and next as I have a series of posts on infertility advocacy coming up... I'm so fired up on this topic that it's going to take five parts to tell it all! So keep your eye open... part one will go live this Thursday.

To 200 posts - *raises a glass* - and a thousand more!

A Celebratory 28th Birthday Post

I'm not 30, but I'm certainly not 18 anymore. It's crazy to think of everything I've encountered in my life in the last decade. At 18, I stood on the precipice of adulthood. At 28, I feel like I'm on the precipice of the next big stage of my life. Like a galloping Rhiannon, I have felt transitory and driven in the last few months: my course may be uncertain, but I thunder onward, unflinching.

What better way to greet and celebrate my 28th birthday? In fact, I'm going to celebrate on the blogosphere with style, via The Celebratory Society.

Think of this as the most interesting delurking project you'll ever participate in. After giving back to others at the Celebratory Society, I have decided to participate in it myself. You can understand the project in full by clicking here, but in brief, the Celebratory Society is an online festschrift for a blogger- a way for you to tell me what my blog or actions mean to you. But this isn't about me- this is about you too. And I would love it if you returned to your own blog, started your own Celebratory Society post, added it to the main project list, and gave me the opportunity to tell you about...you.

Yeah, I'm milking my birthday, but what better opportunity to celebrate oneself, right? Speaking of milking my birthday.... I'm also looking forward to a fabulous night of fondue at The Melting Pot downtown tonight!

Infertility, I've got you in my sights.

Last year, I turned 27. I had just been diagnosed. For my birthday, I needed to reclaim some of what I had lost. I had captioned my birthday last year as "Guns. Massage. Meat on Swords." And I did all of those things. My husband was sweet enough to get me a spa package. We went to a Brazilian BBQ with a big group of our friends.

Oh, and that whole "Guns" bit? Larry took me to the firing range and I fired a gun for the first time in my life. I've always wanted to and it just felt like the right time last year. Your thoughts on gun laws aside, this was a neat life experience for me. On the eve of turning 28, I wanted to reflect a little on the experience from last year, because it's been one helluva ride.

This is me, firing a Walther .22. Why, I'm a veritable James Bond. Nothing says badass like a butterfly wing t-shirt from Hot Topic. As I lined up my sight on the target, sweating and trying not to hyperventilate before I pulled a trigger for the first time in my life, I imagined exactly what I was shooting at:

Infertility.

The first bullet I ever fired was aimed squarely at it. I told myself that there was no way in hell I was ever going to let my infertility beat me.

And damn if I didn't let it this year.

Here's the thing: I am terrified of guns. Just to go to the shooting range and be so close to other people firing, as well as just seeing guns on the tables... it nearly sickened me. One of my biggest paranoid fears is getting shot. It's not like I live in an urban center (or ever have really; I'm a child of the suburbs) but I've always been legit paranoid of getting shot all my life. The act of firing a gun is incredibly powerful, sensually so: the slam of the hammer and feeling the recoil shoot back through your body, the sound of a small sonic boom reverberating so hard you feel it in your chest, the quick flash like a candid camera moment, and the intoxicating smell of gunpowder. By holding a gun, I was confronting a huge fear of mine. By firing it and directing it toward the thing I fear more than guns and being shot- not being able to have children- it was probably one of the most liberating things I've done.

Am I saying you should go out and shoot your infertility? No, not at all. Some people aren't into guns... like myself. I haven't been back to the firing range since. Why? Well, it was fun for an afternoon, but on the ride home, I had a panic attack, the first in a long time. All of the adrenalin and anxiety that had built up all day finally came out in a spectacular show of a racing pulse, tears, and near hyperventilation. I might have good aim (thank you Modern Warfare and years of first-person shooters), but I'm not a recreational shooter. I'm not the newest member of the NRA by any stretch of the imagination. This outing allowed me to cross something off my bucket list and to confront two major fears: guns and infertility.

Even if you don't go out to a firing range and write infertility on a paper target and shoot at it until it's torn to shreds, you can still put infertility in your sights. You can still duke it out Old West style in the Main Drag in your mind, draw your line, and fire. I made my ultimatum to infertility last year and I think I've kept good on my promise to myself.

It's taken a year for me to blow the smoke from the barrel of my gun and put it back in my holster. Now the real work begins. There's a new Sheriff in town, and she intends to clean this place up. The click of my heels and the jingle of my spurs echo in the street, my feet walking with a new found confidence, with a goal in sight.

On my birthday tomorrow, I intend to blaze a trail in my twenty-eighth year.

Welcome to May's ICLW!

Hi there! If you're new to the blog, feel free to poke around and check things out. Lots of info about me, this blog, and my interests are scattered all about. The About Keiko and Important Posts are good places to start. Also, make sure to check out the other folks participating in this month's ICLW.

Briefly: Hi! I'm Keiko. *waves* Welcome to my blog. And yes, that's my real name and face everywhere. No more hiding. I'm infertile, big whoop internet. Moving on... :)

I'm Jewish, I'm half-Japanese, I'm a video gamer, blogger, scrapbooker, wine snob and I freakin' love food, I'm seeing a nutrionist with my husband b/c we love food a bit too much, I've got POF and Hashi's, and we're decided to adopt in lieu of pursuing ART. While it's hella more expensive, I'm a huge chicken when it comes to medical stuff and I've been through a lot in the last year, so I'm just not up to more needles and doctor's visits. We hope to get the ball rolling on finding an agency within the next 3-4 months from now.

I'm just a month away from being a first-time Auntie and I can't wait to meet my neice. She's the first grandchild in my family, and she is going to have the best Mom and Dad ever, my sister "Otter" and my BIL "Thor."

I participate in this awesome thing called The Red Tent Temple Movement. I go to the Salem, MA chapter the first Monday after every new moon with a good friend of mine, "Honeybee." It is restorative, empowering, beautiful, and helps me to maintain my sense of womanly cycles since I don't get them anymore.

I made an award-winning short film last month chronicling my experience with infertility (click the What If? Video link above or to the right for more info) that has completely shaped and changed what I want to be when I grow up. Currently, I work in higher education. I've been living in a student residence hall for 3+ years now, and I'm kind of done living in a dorm. I've discovered that health advocacy is my true calling, as I've learned since making this video and seeing its impact. I'm at the right point to transition out of my current career field and into another. I'm currently looking for health advocacy opportunities in the Boston Metro area for an immediate start. Got any leads? Shoot me an email (on the Facebook badge on my right sidebar).

Also in the spirit of advocacy, I'm creating a network of Massachusetts-based infertility bloggers. Do you live in Massachusetts and blog about infertility? I'd love to get to know you. Check out this post for more info on how you can join!

Other things... I turn 28 on Tuesday, May 25th. I'm feeling a lot better about my approaching birthday this year than I did last year. That's saying a lot, because I don't normally get all excited for my birthday. This year? This year we're going to The Melting Pot. I've never been, and boy howdy - do I love me some cheese.

Last month, I made Iron Commenter. This month, I'm turning the tables: 7 days = 7 posts. I'm going to try and post every single day for the entire week, so stop back each day to see what's new!

Welcome and thanks for stopping by. If you feel so inclined, feel free to follow this blog*, follow me on Twitter, or friend me on Facebook. I'm looking forward to meeting and connecting with new folks to my blog! *If I hit 200 followers to this blog before the end of ICLW, I think I'll have to throw my first giveaway, so spread the word!

Happy Commenting & Happy ICLW!

Moms in Six Words

Grown in My Heart presents their Mother's Day Adoption Carnival - The project is simple. In honor of Mother's Day, post a picture of your Mom(s) (however you define it) and write a six-word memoir about her/them. For more info and to see the other blogs in the carnival, check out the link above. I don't want to say much else other than to let these pictures and words speak for themselves.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

In her eyes, I'm always beautiful.

"In-law" has never applied.

Sister, worry not: you'll be amazing.

Make This Mother's Day Me Day

I've been getting such beautiful comments about redefining motherhood for Mother's Day this year. Alex writes that motherhood is "the wanting to take care of someone. It's the desire, more than the ability." This year, she's in limbo in the 2ww during Mother's Day. It's a unique place to be in; go visit her and wish her luck! Kakunaa considers herself "a mother...maybe not to my own children, but I am the mother of my friends, to my furbabies, and in my heart." And Sonja puts it so simply and eloquenly when she says "mothering is a state of mind." She says further: "It might not be the definition of the term "mother" that I grew up with, but you know what? This works for me now." Kudos to those of you who are board with redefining motherhood this year!

I'm fortunately in that don't have the same Mother's Day blues as many other women. I'm blessed and thankful that my mom and mom-in-law are both living and well. And since we were never actively trying, it's not like I'm missing out on something, as though this holiday is leaving me out. For others, they become the afterthought at Mother's Day gatherings, the room oohing and ahhing over the moms and then stopping at The Infertile One and going "Oh, right, well have a lovely day too dearie!" Danya shares how painful the experience can be:

Like many other woman I dread Mother's Day. But mostly because I dread other people's pity. I'm always someone's "afterthought" on this day. Especially at church. Everyones running around exchanging flowers and gifts with cries of a "happy" Mother's Day until they notice me, get "that look" on their face and go, "Oh yeah, ahem, Happy Mother's Day to you too, Danya! Cuz you'll be a mother someday too! So you can celebrate too! Ummmmmm.... Oh! Here's an extra flower! You can have one too!" Gee thanks. I've always wanted an afterthought Mother's Day flower drenched in your pity.

Danya's right. We shouldn't be afterthoughts on Mother's Day, or any day for that matter. And too many times in our IF journeys, we become our own afterthoughts: we'll hold of that vacation because we need to save the money for this cycle. I don't need to buy new clothes in case this cycle works. I'll put off using that gift card I got for XYZ holiday/event/birthday because I don't need to go shopping now. A fascinating NYT article from December of 2009 reports on a psychological phenomenon known as pleasure procrastination. We do it all the time, letting gift cards expire before ever cashing them in, never visiting local tourism like museums, monuments, and parks because we kind of take them for granted. In think in the IF community, we are always putting our pleasures, our joys, hell, our lives- on hold.

Here's the thing: when we pamper ourselves, do even just one little something for ourselves that makes us feel good, we feed our bodies some delicious feel good brain chemicals. I'm no scientist, I have no idea what they are, but I'm going to say comfortably that this happens. (Why yes, I do have a PhD in Making Up Scientific Facts as Needed. How ever did you guess?!)

So this Mother's Day, if everyone is celebrating around you, without you, despite you: I say, celebrate yourself! In fact, let's change the name. It's now Mother's Me Day. This is a day to do for you. If you have to go to that family function, do it. But get your hair done, paint your nails, buy that pair of strappy sandals you've been eyeing and arrive in style. Do for yourself and make yourself feel good!

And Mother's Me Day is the perfect excuse to go out and splurge a little on some home spa products, or jewelry, or clothes, or books - hell, even a new computer! (I might be speaking from personal experience. Let's just say, there's been a major party shift in the Zoll household and I friggin love my new laptop.) There are TONS of sales geared toward the mommy demographic that are just as applicable to the IF demographic. We read books. We wear clothes. We like perfume and gift certificates and spa packages. All you have to do is replace Mother's with Me and bam: it's a week of sales just for you! Look, I know it's a crap economy, but sometimes, you just gotta splurge once in a while and celebrate yourself. Sometimes even just a couple hours of retail therapy can do wonders.

But like the NYT article mentions, we wait for special occasions to celebrate ourselves, and that we need to let that notion go. Case in point: last week, Larry really wanted cake for dessert. Not cupcakes, not pastries: straight up "frosted all over made in store looks like something you'd take to a potluck or dinner party" cake. And you know what? We bought the cake. We invited a bunch of friends over to help us eat said cake because yanno, we didn't want to be total fatties eating the whole thing ourselves. Did we wait for a special occasion? Nope! We said, "we're having cake because a) we want it b) we're awesome and c) we don't need a reason." You might say we... had our cake... and ate it too... I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.

This Mother's Me Day, celebrate yourself. You deserve it, you're worth it, and if you're going to wait around for someone to do it for you, you'll have wasted a perfect opportunity to indulge yourself.

Everyone's situation is different, so when I shop it out, others might need something a little more substantial. Be sure to check out these great articles for coping and surviving Mother's Day and Father's Day.

• Coping with Mother's Day & Father's Day (RESOLVE.org)
• Making the Best of Mother's Day and Father's Day (RESOLVE of New England)
• Empty arms on Mother's Day (American Fertility Association Blog)
• Help For When Mother's Day Isn't Happy (BlogHer.com)
• How to Support an Infertile Friend on Mother's Day (surprisingly compassionate article at eHow)

What other things do you do or will you do differently this year to make it through Mother's Day?

Redefining Motherhood on Mother's Day

Mother. [ˈmə-thər] Noun. Etymology: Middle English moder, from Old English mōdor; akin to Old High German muoter mother, Latin mater, Greek mētēr, Sanskrit mātṛ. Date: before 12th century 1 a : a female parent b (1) : a woman in authority; specifically : the superior of a religious community of women (2) : an old or elderly woman 2 : source, origin 3 : maternal tenderness or affection Merriam Webster Dictionary Online, 2010.

This is our working definition of mother, the one we just know, the one we've known from birth when we looked up into that sweet loving face smiling down at us. No matter who raised us, we looked up to her: we called her Mother. For some, Mother was never a figure in our lives. She might be a memory, a photograph, or a story told to us by others. But always, always this connection to somewhere or someone: Mother.

In my video, I posed the question: what if I redefine what it means to be woman, mother, family? Even in my blog header, I proclaim that I'm redefining womanhood. I no longer define my womanhood by my fertility. While pregnancy is an experience for which I mourn and sometimes long, it is no longer a defining experience of womanhood to me. I've resolved to let my experiences and my history define me.

This Mother's Day, I want to redefine motherhood. So how do we redefine motherhood? I may not be able to compete with Webster's dictionary, but I can certainly do my best to work on a cultural shift.

Motherhood isn't just an act of procreation. My uterus may not have borne children, but it shall bear ideas, voices, action. Motherhood is an act of love, of selfless love at that. Motherhood is an act of sacrifice: whether it's the pain of labor and delivery to the sheer act of giving a part of our heart to another. And that's different from the giving of our hearts to our lifelong companions. Motherhood is sacrificing that bit of ourselves, that bit of our hearts, for another. It is more than just loving affection. Motherhood is about fighting and dying for those we love, the primal lioness who protects her cubs.

And our cubs: they may be borne of us or another. They may yet be born in our hearts. They may indeed be furry friends. They may in fact, be our friends.

This week, as we approach Mother's Day on Sunday, I want to write and explore this idea more, this idea of what it means to be a mother. I know this is a very hard time of the year for many of us. I'm hoping this week as I tease this all out more, that we find strength together, that we channel our fears and worries and dread of this holiday into something positive, into action and renewal.

How do you define Motherhood?