June is bustin' out all over.

First: good thyroid numbers. Then: promotion. Third: House-hunting. And finally... a pre-approved mortgage, after some dicey moments on Thursday. What could possibly be left?

...We found a house. We have totally fallen in love with it. Fingers crossed, we have one more home tour on Sunday, but come Monday morning, we're hoping to put in an offer. I've been holding onto this info since Wednesday, but I didn't want to jinx it until I knew we were pre-approved for the mortgage.



This is certainly shaping up to be one helluva summer fast.

Tomorrow morning I have dance class. Given the recent state of my back, I'm glad I signed up for a no-impact style, called NIA. Has anyone tried it? I'm intrigued, so I'm dropping in for a class at the Somerville Armory tomorrow. We'll see how it goes. NIA originally stood for No-Impact Aerobics, but is now called Neuromuscular Integrative Action. Very very hippie in its approach, but I'm kind of interested by the celebratory tone of it. This video provides a great overview of NIA. Neat looking, right? I'll certainly post how it went here.

Tomorrow afternoon? Not so fun: mammogram at 2pm. I will also post about that.

Larry's away for the weekend, back Sunday night, and then out of town until Thursday. Part of me is kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop... it's been quite a while since we've had good fortune. For now, I'm spending this time to relax while I can, because this summer is going to gear up fast.

Shabbat shalom folks.

Thyroid Update: The Butterfly in My Neck

Why the butterfly in my neck? The thyroid gland kind of looks like a little butterfly as it sits on your larynx. The butterfly is also the symbol of thyroid cancer survivors as well (no, I don't have cancer, but I like the transformational inspiration associated with the butterfly).

As you know, in addition to POI, I have Hashimoto's thyroiditis. Monday I had yet another followup appointment with my doctor. After my latest round of bloodwork, and for the first time in just over a year (by 2 weeks!) my TSH values would appear to be normalized and in optimal range. Triumph! I've made some definite progress since my last thyroid checkup in April. My numbers have come back the best ever, and not just my thyroid results.

My TSH is currently at 1.0. Free T3 is chillin' at 2.95, and free T4 is looking good at 1.17. These are all rather good numbers. The 137mcg of Levoxyl seems to be doing the trick, even while I'm on the pill. I thought for sure we'd have to double the dosage (the steroidal estrogen in the pill binds to the thyroid hormone in my medicine, zeroing out the actual amount of thyroid hormone I receive) but apparently the jump from 125mcg to 137mcg was enough to do the job. Symptomatically, I feel the best I have in a year. The brain fog is basically gone and I'm not walking around like a zombie. I still get fatigue, but I imagine it's likelier the result of diet, going to bed at 1am every night, and stress. My doc mentioned something about iron deficiency, so he's having my iron levels tested.

The numbers that surprised me the most were my lipid panel. My total cholesterol went down from 222 in January to 194 in June! No medication, no exercise... all just changes to my diet. (Speaking of- given the recent loss of my grandmother, we might have fallen off the good eating wagon a little hard.) My LDL and HDL numbers look good too; they've also decreased since January. I fully credit Dr. Organic with this progress. My triglycerides were high at 196; more indicative of insulin resistance than anything else. The doc recommends sticking with lifestyle change at this point, because it's clearly working, and triglycerides can be managed by lifestyle.

The only bad numbers I had were my vitamin D levels. I'm a bit low. Not in the "gonna get rickets" range, but I seriously need to start taking the supplements that my doc prescribed and I never got filled... oops.

These are the first positive set of numbers I've had all year, and I've got symptoms (or lack thereof) to back them up, which is vital to proper thyroid management. I just need to keep an eye out for my adrenal function. Basically, Hashi's is an autoimmune thyroid disease where my body just kind of eats my thyroid until it stops working. As my anti-thyroid antibodies are so high (over 1000), my POI is most likely caused by autoimmune disfunction as well. It is very possible that I could develop polyglandular autoimmune disorder where the next thing my body goes after is the adrenal gland. That would not be good at all, so I need to be on the lookout. The doc ordered that blood test as well.

Speaking of blood tests... It took one hour, three phlebotomists, and six- yes six attempts to draw just one vial of blood from me. I have awful, awful veins, and the two I can count on refused to cooperate Monday. I tried hydrating, hot compresses, pumping my fist, letting my arm hang down - you name it, I did it. I may look a wee bit like a junkie with bruises all over the insides of both arms and the back of my right hand.

Other testing: I'm getting a mammogram on Saturday. Not too thrilled about that; less upset about the discomfort and more about the fact that I'm 28 and now have to start regular mammograms. My doc wants this as a baseline but recommends that I have them done annually since I'm now on HRT. The test itself doesn't unnerve me, but the implications for what it could detect does. Cancer does run in my family (mostly bladder, colon, and skin) so yanno, in my paranoid mind I'm quietly freaking out. Oh, and I got my annual gyno exam and pap smear. Love the boob massage- I mean breast exam, hate the "wham bam thank you ma'am" tone of the pelvic exam.

Assuming my iron levels and anti-adrenal antibody tests come back normal, I don't need to see the good doctor for six months. It feels a little weird, I won't lie; I've been at his office every six weeks like clockwork and now to have this stretch into potentially the end of the year... Sometimes it's hard to let the idea that I'm actually getting better sink into my brain.

Other medical news: my back is doing leaps and bounds better. My x-rays revealed that yes, I have degenerative arthritis in my lower spine (AWESOME) and that it could flare up again. One (hopefully) last chiropractor appointment on Friday. I can now sleep through the night sans pillows around my legs and back and don't need to ice it as frequently. I've also stopped taking Advil like it's going out of fashion, so that's good. My stomach lining and liver are appreciative, I'm sure.

The healing that I've worked so hard on in my mind is finally starting to make an appearance in my physical body.

The butterfly has transformed.


Photo and original body art by Ally Averell via Flickr in honor of Thyroid Awareness Month 2010.

And sometimes, the Universe looks out for you.

Moving to Massachusetts was one of the hardest transitions in my life. In the first six months, I did not adjust well. I was bitter, angry and resentful I had been uprooted from the relative comfort and familiarity of our three years together in Maryland. I wasn't finding a good career fit in a field that I had finally cracked into without my master's (student affairs/residence life) and was becoming a bit disillusioned with the whole experience. Living in student housing became less of that well-rounded res life professional experience and more of a necessary evil. I've shed a lot of tears, had many late night arguments, and plenty of panic attacks just related to my work situations over the last three years.

Yesterday, I finally felt like I've gotten some payoff for the three years of strife that have seemed to follow me wherever I go.

I've been promoted at work! And not just a monetary promotion - but a promotion that took into account my vision for what I can really do for my department, my university, and ultimately the 3,400 students that live in housing here. My feeling of stifled creativity for the past year is gone: I've been presented with the opportunities along the horizon and the freedom to run toward it and blaze a trail. I feel like my work is actually being valued for the first time in three years and being rewarded appropriately.

I've held out and held out and held out, waiting for the right opportunity to come along. I still hope that I can find something full-time in infertility advocacy. I still intend to write voraciously and hopefully finish my book before the year is out and get it in front of agents and publishers. I'm still committed to this blog, my readers, and my advocacy. But for 40 hours a week, love it or hate it, I get paid to work in a very different field. 40 hours a week is a lot of time to be stuck doing something with which you may not be thrilled, so when your boss says that yes, you have been doing a good job and that your vision is valued and we are excited for the possibilities of what you can do with this program - well, it feels damn good for once.

And yes, having a paycheck that reflects that value too is a nice bonus too. This couldn't have been more perfectly timed.

I've known for almost two months that job restructuring was going to happen for me, but I haven't had much news about what exactly was happening. So much was up in the air that I didn't want to post about it for fear that it would all fall through. I did know that come the end of this summer, we would be moving, whether it was to a different apartment on campus or moving off campus entirely. Yesterday I got confirmation that the position has been written as full-time, live OFF - hallelujah!

...Which finally explains this whole house hunting thing I've been promising to post about.

After looking at our finances, buying a house makes a lot more sense than pissing away our money on rent. Larry and I had a very long conversation recently about whether or not we can really afford to do this. Based on my salary as of that conversation, we could do it, but it would be really tight; we wouldn't be able to save like we have been these past three years. This new salary would help us out immensely at being able to save more faster, and thus, start the adoption ball rolling much sooner. The only downside? We need to bid, close, and move in in the next two months, b/c my current housing will be occupied by two students come the first weekend in September.

I'm so grateful and feeling really blessed right now. And after quite possibly the shittiest year on Team Zoll record (I'm lookin' at you, 2009) it would seem that the Universe is finally starting to smile on us.

It's about damn time.


Photo by Irish_Eyes via MorgueFile.com.

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.

An Overview of Adopting in Massachusetts: Part 2

The second half of this series will focus on the aspects of adoption once a match is made and the baby comes home. Part 1 of the series covering agency selection, homestudy, profile, and matching, can be found here.

Meeting with Birthparents
Once a match is made, it is encouraged that the adoptive parents and the birthparents make a connection and have a chance to meet. As we learned during the panel discussion, this might not happen before birth, as was one couple's experience. The birthmother just couldn't meet with them. It wasn't until a day after the child was born that the birthmother finally met the adoptive parents. The purpose of this is to build those memories that will be so vital to your adopted child's story later on. This is also a good chance to discuss openness, and to figure out what that means for both the birthparents and adoptive parents. As Betsy and Dale mentioned, about 75% of adoptions are semi-open and the remaining 25% fully open.

Openness
Open adoption can mean very different things to different people. For some, it means regular opportunities for the birthparents to interact with the child. For others, it might mean regular letters and pictures. Some adoption triads email. Others correspond through their agencies. Openness occurs on a continuum and it varies for every individual triad. Dale was quick to point out that open adoption is not the same as co-parenting, rather, it provides an avenue for adoptive children to learn as much of their birthfamily's story as possible and to weave it into their own personal history. Betsy talked about how it's common for adoptive parents to leave letters and photos with their individual agency, and that the birthparents may pick up these packets at their leisure, as the need to check in arises. The agency also keeps copies of all correspondence so that the child may see a record of communication between their adoptive parents and their birthparents. The key thing to remember is that openness is about information sharing, and not to take away from the validity or experience of either set of parents. It should also be interesting to note: Massachusetts has legally enforceable Open Adoption Agreements, should all parties agree to it. A successful open adoption, as Dale put it, is one where birthparents are like those extended family you don't see very often but you love very much.

Termination of Parental Rights and Legal Risk
Just to reiterate: these processes apply to birthparents local to the state of Massachusetts. Once the child is born, in the state of Massachusetts, a birthmother has 96 hours* to consent to the termination of her parental rights. Given that most normal vaginal births only require the mother and child to be hospitalized for a maximum of 48 hours and that most birthmothers do not want to take the baby home, this leaves an interesting quandary: where does the newborn go? Short-term foster-care is available for the remaining 48 hours is available, however, most birthmothers would rather the child be immediately placed with the adoptive parents. However, if an adoptive couple takes the baby home from the hospital, there are still 2 days for the birthmother to change her mind in the state of MA. This situation is called legal risk. Legal risk also includes a revocation period (if applicable in that particular state where the child is born; there is no revocation period in MA) and during the finalization period.

If the birthmother has received a good amount of counseling and a firm relationship established with the adoptive parents, it is not likely she will change her mind, but it's a real possibility. Situations could change at the last minute: a birthfamily member agrees to help raise the child, for example- and then the adoption cannot be completed. This is called a fall-through. Sadly, these do happen, so that's why it's vital to tease out everything before the birth as much as possible. This also poses a financial risk. Full-service agencies that charge a flat fee absorb the cost of the loss. Per-fee agencies will refund only what is left in the birthmother's escrow account that hasn't been paid out already; a fall-through in this situation may cost the adoptive parents anywhere from $2K-6K in lost monies.

*There are some cases where a birthmother is given more time. An adoption agency might receive a call from a social worker at the hospital, working with a woman who is in labor and has expressed in that moment she would like to create an adoption plan. Given that the agency won't have sufficient enough time to screen and match the birthmother to a waiting family, more time is given to the birthmother for her to be able to consent to termination of her rights.

When the baby is born, a birth certificate is issued in the name given by the birthmother, listing the birthmother and birthfather (if the birthmother chooses to name a birthfather). Adoptions occurring in other states have differing periods of how long a birthmother has to consent to termination of her rights.

Post-Placement Requirements
Regardless of where the baby was born, once the baby comes home with the adoptive parents, they are legally required to be supervised for the first six months after the baby is born in the state of Massachusetts. Typically, this means a social worker visits the home at months one, three, and five, and the other months are through phone check-ins. Betsy said that these visits are mostly to check in on the new parents, see how they and baby are adjusting to the newness, and to ooh and ahh and talk about the baby's latest tricks and accomplishments. Once the six-month supervised period is complete, the agency will apply for a court date to finalize the adoption. If a birthfather has been named, they will attempt to contact him to notify him of the impending adoption. Often, this is in teeny-tiny print in the legal notices section of the area newspaper where the birthmother believes conception took place.

Typically, it takes about 3 months to get a court date. The judge reviews the homestudy and all paperwork and declares the adoption finalized and legal. An adoption decree and amended birth certificate listing the adoptive parents and the child's new name are issued. The original birth certificate kind of disappears into the ether; it's held on file at the agency, but as a matter of public record, it's as if it didn't exist. In Massachusetts, the post-placement finalization process takes about 9 months from the time the child is born. It is possible, and oft times cheaper and faster, to have adoptions finalized in other states (i.e., Florida only requires 12 weeks to finalize including just two supervised visits).

An important point about naming: it is generally agreed that it is vital to the birthmother's closure process to name her child. It is up to the adoptive parents as to whether they will keep or incorporate that name, but usually, adopted children will have multiple middle names. Betsy and Dale both agreed that it's a good idea to incorporate the original name should the child go researching their birthparents and wonder, "Why did you change the name I was given?" Certainly a valid point to consider.

And... that's it!

To recap: adopting in Massachusetts consists of about 6 steps:

1. Finding an agency.
2. Completing a homestudy.
3. Completing an adoptive parent profile.
4. Making a match with birthparent(s).
5. Birthparent(s) terminating their rights.
6. Finalizing the adoption.

Top 10 Points to Remember:
1. Your vision of your child can change over time, allowing the possibility for a wider net of birthparents to see your profile.
2. After considering the wait and cost, make sure your agency is a good fit for your needs.
3. Be open and honest during the homestudy process. Just be yourself!
4. Matching is a little bit of strategy and a lot of luck and timing.
5. Openness is not co-parenting and is about sharing information over time.
6. Even if your adoption will be semi-open, it's important to establish an initial relationship with the birthmother to add to that child's family story.
7. Carefully weigh the legal risks involved at every step of the adoption process.
8. Be ethical.
9. Fall-throughs happen.
10. All of the paperwork, stress, and waiting will totally be worth it when baby comes home and the adoption is finalized.

To quote Kristen Howerton at Grown In My Heart:

"If you adopt, then you will be a real parent.
If you adopt, then you will be abundantly blessed with a child."

I hope you found this information helpful. Thank you so much to Betsy Hochberg, Dale Eldridge, and RESOLVE of New England for putting together such an informative program for prospective adoptive parents. We might be a little overwhelmed at the prospects, but we are also wildly excited about this path to family building.

Have you adopted in Massachusetts? I'd love to hear from you! Drop a line in the comments.


(Photo by Joe Green via Flickr.)

An Overview of Adopting in Massachusetts: Part 1

After a day of house-hunting (I promise I'll update this week about this new piece of news in our life), I finally have some time to post about my experience at the RESOLVE of New England Adoption Decision Making Seminar that Larry and I went to yesterday. We're pretty set on our intent to adopt an infant domestically, and boy, did we learn a lot at this seminar. I won't be able to capture all of the info from yesterday, but hope to provide a general overview of what the process will most likely be for Larry and I. There is so much information to share that I'm going to split this into 2 posts.

Larry and I were just two of about 40 people who were in attendance. The seminar was lead by Betsy Hochberg of Adoption Resources, Dale Eldridge of Adoption Choices, and Sarah Groff of MAPS Worldwide. Betsy and Dale led the conversation on domestic adoption and Sarah the portion on international adoption. At the end of the day, we listened to a panel of three recent adoptive parents: two domestic and one international.

It was an all-day seminar jam-packed with lots of information. We were certainly overwhelmed by it all; we were also both emotionally and physically exhausted from everything that went on this week and the rather dreary weather did not help. We ended out taking a long lunch and skipping the international session because a) we really want to adopt child younger than a year (the youngest children internationally are ~1 year old right now) and b) were we just zapped from the first session. Information overload, and we needed to decompress for a little bit.

We got a very thorough overview of how domestic infant adoption works here in Massachusetts. The process is pretty straightforward:

1. Find an agency.
2. Complete a homestudy.
3. Complete an adoptive parent profile.
4. Make a match with birthparent(s).
5. Birthparent(s) terminate rights and adoptive parents receive child.
6. Finalize adoption.

Looks simple, right? Oh heavens, if only it were.

Finding an Agency
In Massachusetts, adoptive parents are required to utilize a licensed, not for profit agency. MA is one of only three states that mandate this by law. At first I thought this was some racket between adoption agencies and the state, but I was reminded that these are non-profit organizations, and that this system makes sure that services are provided for the birthparent(s). We can choose from private agencies who specialize in voluntary placements or elect to pursue foster placement. Larry and I have previously discussed the latter option and we agree that private domestic infant adoption is more in line with our parenting goals, especially given our younger age.

Betsy and Dale pointed out three things to consider when choosing an agency: wait time, cost, and fit. The best way to pick an agency, they recommend, is to attend their open houses and take the time to make sure that those three things are in line with your goals. There are two types of agencies: full-service, who require a flat fee that covers everything (including an adoption fall-through) and those that pay variable fees attached to the birthparent(s). The latter carries a greater financial risk should an adoption fall-through, but the overall cost to the adoptive couple is generally cheaper.

Due to demographics, local birthparents are few and far between in MA. As such, couples often work with both their MA agency and another agency, adoption attorney, or adoption facilitator in other states where the birthparent pool is greater (think Bible Belt). Fees are split accordingly: homestudy fees for the MA agency, placement fees with the respective placing agency. All finalization and post-placement costs are paid to the MA agency. Complicated stuff.

Completing the Homestudy
The homestudy is a series of meetings between the adoptive parents and a social worker. At a statutory minimum, there are about three to four meetings, but every agency has different requirements. Most meetings will be with the couple, but there will be an individual meeting with each adoptive parent as well. The prospective adoptive couple will need to provide all sorts of paperwork: tax returns, marriage license, my name change documentation, Larry's personal business info, 3 letters of reference, and a letter from both of our doctors. We will also need to complete a full background check: sex offender, credit history, criminal background, and FBI fingerprinting clearance. The FBI fingerprinting is now a requirement for ALL domestic adoptions within the US, so it's kind of undergoing what the Passport Agency did when it changed the requirements for passport usage back in 2008: it is now inundated with requests. A normally 2-3 week clearance takes about 12 weeks now. The entire homestudy process can take anywhere from 2-3 months, and all of this is compiled into an actual homestudy document. This document will then be seen by the judge once an adoption is finalized.

Social workers aren't looking to turn down prospective adoptive parents; it's a rarity. And it's totally not fair that adoptive parents have to go through such an intensive process when parents who are able to get pregnant (naturally or otherwise) don't. The social workers completely understand the unfairness, but it doesn't change the process. As such, adoptive parents should be honest and open about what they're looking for and who they are. This is really the way that the social workers get to know the couple, and can ultimately help to determine to whom their profiles are shown. Dale went on to discuss that at her agency, the final homestudy meeting is an in-depth discussion with the couple regarding their child parameters, and what kind of child or match they could be comfortable parenting: special needs, race, birthparent(s) situation, a child of rape, a child with an unknown birthfather, etc. Heavy stuff, but a valuable conversation nonetheless.

The Adoptive Parent Profile
Part scrapbook, part autobiography, the profile is what agencies will show to birthparents, and upon which they will base a potential match. It will talk about us, our relationship, our families, our community and lifestyle. It will also include a letter to our potential birhtparent. We got some great advice from the panel on what to include. As a graphic designer and writer, I am really looking forward to creating our profile. Once the profile is complete, it will be shown to birthparents that meet our criteria.

A birthparent typically looks at about 4-6 profile books. One of the things that Dale and Betsy recommended was that our vision of our ideal child could change over time, and that the more open and flexible we could become, the greater our chances of finding a match sooner. Wait time, generally is about 12-18 months on average. I personally know of folks who've waited much less time, and we met folks who waited substantially longer at the panel. They also recommended that we set a case-by-case standard for various parameters, i.e., if we say no to any birthmother who smoked, we could be waiting longer. However, if we say we'll consider that parameter on a case-by-case basis, it gives us the flexibility to ask: how long did she smoke? What did she smoke? We have the opportunity to research the situation a little further and then make a determination. Blanket decisions on parameters generally don't work in the couple's favor.

I asked about legislation about advertising to potential birthparents, as parent-identified matches are totally doable. While we can't take out an ad in say, the Boston Globe or on CraigsList, we can certainly put our profile book online... or create an adoption specific blog. I expect once we get the ball rolling I'll be creating another blog (bringing my total up to 5- that's right, 5 blogs) for our birthparent recruitment efforts since it seems that most MA couples adopt out of state.

Adoption Matching
Birthparents come to adoption agencies in a variety of ways. Local birthparents will meet with an agency here in a face-to-face meeting and submit their medical history. The agency will provide reasonable costs and financial assistance until the child is born. They are asked what families are of interest to them: what situation would be ideal for their child? They make a hospital plan and are given extensive counseling by an agency social worker. The SW will thorough probe the birthparent about why they want to create an adoption plan for their child, and fully explore the birthparent's options.

Once all of this has been completed and the birthparents' preferences noted, the agency will pick appropriate profile books to show the birthparent. We heard stories of how the littlest, most random thing in someone's profile could inspire a match: a picture of swimming with dolphins; a picture of a relative that looked like one of the birthparents' relatives; travel to foreign countries the birthparent would want their child to see. It would seem that matching is the result of timing and luck.

With all the preliminaries out of the way, I'll save all of the "baby comes home" stage for the second part of this series. Check out An Overview of Adopting in Massachusetts: Part 2 here.

(Photo by William Whyte via Flickr.)

Have you been Lost and Found?

I'd like to take this time to pimp out something I feel is rather important in the ALI blogsphere: Mel's Lost and Found Connections Abound (LFCA). Think of it as a semi-daily digest of all the happenings in the ALI blogosphere: quick announcements of our joys like birthdays, and anniversaries, to our lows like loss announcements and remembrances. New blogs get their shout outs and folks who just need a little extra support for whatever reason get their love too. New projects or questions to the community are also announced. It is a phenomenal resource out there, exposing us to new blogs and journeys, allowing us to reconnect with others, and generally feeds into a greater sense of good karma.

You may notice the brown LFCA icon a little ways down on my right sidebar, "Please submit my news to the LFCA." That's because the LFCA only happens because we make it happen (and because Mel is awesome in compiling it all together). It requires the active engagement of the ALI blogosphere to not only bring the news of our peers to our peers, but to share that news and comment appropriately. Like I said, it's some seriously good karma to be a part of the LFCA.

"But why participate?" you might be asking. I'll explain why I do it with a little diversion into Judaism. In Judaism there is the concept of tzedaka (charity). I use the term charity loosely as it's not a choice, but an obligation. When I converted to Judaism, I remember scratching my head at the required donation to the synagogue as part of my formal conversion ceremony. My rabbi explained it thus: "Instead of dollars, think of it as good things. You put good things out in the Universe, you get good things back."

So why participate? Well, you have a chance to put good things out in the Universe. The LFCA only publishes about 3-4 times a week, so what I do is when I get on my Google Reader binge, if I find something appropriate that I think should be shared, I submit it. In fact, I usually open two tabs: my Reader in one and the LFCA in another so I can quickly copy and paste the info over.

I'm not posting this fishing for mentions on the LFCA, because trust me, if I want to, I'll submit my own news (and I have in the past). You can submit your own news too: don't be shy, and don't count on other folks to necessarily do it for you. If you need the support, submit your news. Worst that happens is that you and someone else submit the same news, and Mel will pick which specific blurb will go in that particular edition.

The reason I want to highlight this is because this is actually a very simple act of advocacy you can do right as you're catching up on your blogs. By supporting others, you're helping out the whole community. And if you're not "out" about your IF status, this is a great way to be able to advocate for others while still remaining anonymous (all LFCA submissions are anonymous).

Catch up on the latest edition of the LFCA here. Click here to submit your news. Not sure what to submit? News breaks down into the following categories: Miscellaneous news (questions, non-IF announcements, community projects, invite only, etc); Birthdays, anniversaries, or blogoversaries; Loss remembrances; Loss announcements; Miscellaneous support or celebrations (directing support where it is needed); Bedrest babes; Pregnancy announcements and news; Birth and adoption announcements.

Now start spreading the news and pump out good things into the Universe!

On the road, part two.

"When life hands you leeemons, make leeemonade."

The last 48 hours have been a blur of Spanish moss, the smell of flowers, hugs and kisses and wrinkled skin soft like old crumpled paper, and oppressive, blinding heat.

At the heart of it all: the love of a family for their Matriarch.

We arrived at Valdosta, Georgia, walking down the ramp of the tiny plane right onto the tarmac. I felt like I was the president, perhaps I should wave, but there was no one to wave to. It was great just to stand after spending 40 minutes hunched over from our flight from Atlanta. My back ached and the fierce humid heat cast a fine sheen of moisture on my brow. My mom met us inside. We were grateful to see her face and to feel a cool rush of air conditioning.

Yesterday was a blur: I napped. We went out to lunch at Denny's with one of my aunts and my cousins. The above quote is inspired by our waitress, who asked Larry if he wanted a "leeemon" in his water. He blinked in confusion and I watched the realization dawn on his face. A lemon in his water. Our first taste of the very deep Georgian South.

I napped some more. We were off to Homerville for the viewing. More of a blur: my mom, driving her massive Tahoe rental, tall skinny pines and stretches of rural emptiness, trailer homes flanked by large new homes, paralleling the railroad track, pecan trees, mimosa trees with their fuzzy pink blossoms, a blueberry farm, a paper mill, an apiary, and more vast swatches of pine and overgrown landscape.

She looked beautiful, wearing a sweater my mom gave her last Christmas to cover the IV scars. So many beautiful flower arrangements, a spray of yellow roses over the casket. My mom placed a bag of momentos representing each of the family in the casket. All of her children were there, except for one son who couldn't be bothered, we assumed. No family is perfect, but we all loved Granny.

And always glancing at her chest as she lay there, so still she looked as though just asleep, waiting to see a sigh escape from her slightly smiling lips.

Lots of introductions. Overwhelmed with names and faces and familial connections. If I was overwhelmed, I can't imagine how Larry must have felt. Tears and tissues and murmured voices and the occasional flitter of laughter. Victorian drollness of decor, Southern kindness and warmth. All in love for a marvelous woman, a Queen in her own right.

Long blurry ride back to Valdosta, the light waning from the sky and the air still heavy with humidity. A ridiculously long wait for dinner at the Outback next to our hotel. A reminder of home with a fresh cold mug of Sam Adams Summer Ale. And then one more.

Then: sleep, sleep, sleep.

A wakeup call. A cellphone alarm. A blurry-eyed breakfast in the hotel: tiny dry biscuits and thick sausage gravy with watered-down coffee.

A few minutes of solitude in the shower.

Rush rush rush to the Tahoe, pinching at the corners of our dresses and patting down flyaways, astonished at just how damn hot it was for ten o'clock in the morning.

The long drive 30 miles down one road with only one turn to the funeral home. Walking in to greet the absent son of last night, the room rearranged from the viewing, and more baskets of flowers: roses, carnations, mums, lilies, and more.

And Granny: still at peace, a sweet slight smile still on her lips, a cross necklace draped over her clasped hands.

More tears and tissues and a heavier sense of formality this morning. Poem and prayer by my mother, prayers and remarks from my aunts, and scripture by my uncle, a bit overzealous in his interpretation of my Granny's testimony. According to my uncle, we all needed to be saved and as the only Jews within a dozen or more miles, the heat of his hellfire and brimstone was clearly aimed at us without ever mentioning us by name. My husband's anger, my mom and several of my aunts' and cousins' anger was palpable. There is a time and a place for this, and this was surely not the time nor the place. Grandiose words and show as if somehow this could make up for a lifetime of neglect. Yes, he loved his mother, but we all know the true worth of that love is paid in deeds of lovingkindness. And one day, he too will be judged, and not by the number of strangers he saved but of family he turned his back upon in the name of salvation.

No family is perfect. And how different things are in other parts of the country.

Feeling like a giant Star of David was painted on our backs, tuning out his ignorance and remembering Granny's laugh and how she was always dressed in pastels and the kindness and love in her eyes.

I offered one last gift for Granny: a song. She always loved to hear me sing, so I sang her one last song: Amazing Grace.

...and feeling true Grace in that moment.

Closing words and more talk of Jesus, to be expected at a traditional Southern funeral. My Granny was indeed a good Christian woman, who taught all her daughters to be strong, faithful women. And she loved me and Larry, my sister and her husband no matter what our faiths.

Paying my last respects. Finally losing it when I watched my mom at the casket. "I'm so sorry your heart is breaking mom, but you have been a wonderful daughter to make Granny proud."

The funeral procession: the red hearse creeping down the road, a line of over twenty cars slowly snaking behind it, police cars at *every* intersection. And the strangers, in their passing cars- stopping. Stopping for a great woman they'd never met in their Southern kindness thinking nothing of this custom and perhaps wondering about the life passing by them in this slow procession.

Who was this person, so loved with this long line of cars behind them, they wonder. Even the massive logging trucks carrying literally tons of cut timber crawl to a stop out of respect.

The cemetery: old and hushed, the twittering of birds and the buzz of dragonflies, a legacy of families and history dug deep in the earth. Massive old trees dripping with moss, their shade a comfort in this oppressive near suffocating heat.

A few words of prayer, and one final hymn: "I'll Fly Away." My cousin finally overcome by her restrained sadness, the finality of the moment, the end of her relationship with her grandmother finally welling over in her heart. The pallbearers greeting the bereaved, my cousin's brother in full Army dress, his face red and soaked with tears. He has grown to become such a good man, and Granny was always so proud of him. And how he loved and fought for and protected her so.

More blur as we passed old headstones, my mother ticking off more of our family's history. And with them, Granny lay at peace, finally reunited with her brothers and sisters.

Biding time until our flight out of Valdosta to Atlanta, Atlanta to Philadelphia. And tomorrow, Philadelphia to Boston.

Valdosta: the smallest airport I've ever been to. Again with this heat, even inside. The tiny jet, the same Delta stewardess spiel, a journey of just 48 hours ago playing back in reverse.

Wheels up. We climb into the humid canopy of palest blue, a haze cast over the horizon. Looking out my window at the miniature world beneath us, lush greens and parched patches of dust, roads carved like strange arithmetic doodles on a grid of farms and fields. The haze creeps in around us, the landscape fading into a grey-blue memory.

And soon the world vanishes entirely beneath us, leaving us with nothing but our memories.

With love:
Mary Emma Jordan Carter,
March 1, 1919 - June 5, 2010

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

On the road

Currently at an all-day retreat for work (I'll let you infer my tone) and then headed straight to Philly for the first leg of travel this week.

Larry and I will fly down with my dad Wednesday morning to take two planes to get to Georgia to meet my mom. Viewing is Wednesday night, funeral Thursday morning. We fly back to Philly that night and back to Boston on Friday. We go from the plane to my chiropractor's appointment to viewing two open house appointments (Surprise! We're house hunting! More on that in another post). Saturday is the Adoption Seminar all day (see previous post) and I will probably just veg all day Sunday.

No clue if I'll be able to get internet out there, so I may not post or tweet again until Monday. Probably mostly 4square stuff, because I might be a wee bit obsessed with that app.

Take care this week and see y'all Monday.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Adoption Decision Making Seminar

Sidebar: Thank you to everyone's condolences and sympathies for the passing of my grandmother this week. They have meant so much to me during this particularly difficult time.

RESOLVE of New England's Adoption Decision Making Seminar is this Saturday in Newtonville, MA. Check out my latest Examiner.com article for more info. I hope to do a review of the seminar first thing next week; Larry and I are really looking forward to it.

Are you considering adoption as a family building solution? Have you exhausted your fertility treatment options and are looking to explore adoption? Are your weighing the pros and cons of domestic and international adoption? The Adoption Decision Making Seminar this Saturday, June 12, 2010 in Newtonville might just be the best place to find your answers. Read the rest of the article here at Examiner.com.


(Photo by Vivian Chen via Flickr.)

Granny has passed.

Granny passed very early this morning after a two month battle with congestive heart failure, just past 2am. My mom called me at about 3am; I was in a sound sleep, but just starting to have hints of waking as a huge thunderstorm- one of the most intense I've ever experienced since moving to Boston- came roiling in on top of us. The raging storm seemed fitting for the moment, signifying the end of something, and someone, so dear to so many people. She was 91.

I was very fortunate to have spent her 90th birthday with her last year, along with all of my aunts and uncles and several of the dozens of grandchildren (which sadly, I don't even know 85% of their names or how exactly we're related. I have a HUGE network of cousins and second cousins). Larry was even fortunate enough to be able to come down and join us also, as was my sister and brother-in-law. It was a really lovely day and I'm so lucky to have been able to share that with her. When she was hospitalized briefly a couple of weeks ago, I realized I might not have the chance to tell Granny how much I loved her, so I sent her a card to that effect. I'm so glad I did because she passed less than a month after that first scare.

Granny was born in 1919. She mothered 7 children: 2 boys and 5 girls - over a span of nearly 20 years. My Granny literally lived the term "dirt poor" and yet she always made sure there was a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. She lived in the deep South and yet always remained a fairly progressive woman. When her second youngest daughter (my Mom) married a Japanese man, he was welcomed into the family like just another person. This coming on the heels of the civil rights movement in the South- it was big deal at the time. She was also very supportive and excited about my decision to convert to Judaism and eventually marrying a Jew. She really loved Larry, and I'm so glad he got to meet her on a few occasions in the last decade.

She was always a no-frills kind of woman, with a huge heart and a wicked sharp intellect. She told it like it was and had the gift for some of the most biting one-liners. When I was born, she stayed with my Mom for a month as my parents adjusted to a new baby for the first time in 8 years. As she got older, my Aunt Kay took primary responsibility for her, Granny moving in with her and my two cousins. Granny lived with my Aunt Kay for nearly 10 years. When her health wasn't doing so well, she was moved to the nursing home about two years ago.

I am very, very sad. My mom is of course, sad, but she and her siblings have been preparing for this all week, if not the last year or so. Still, it doesn't soften the blow any less when it finally happens. Her funeral will be next week in her hometown in Georgia. I will probably not be online for most of next week, as there is extensive travel to get to this tiny little town. I want to leave you with one of my favorite stories about her.

How Granny Got Back Her Sewing Machine
My grandfather (who died before I was born) was kind of your typical man of the South in the 1940s-50s: drank too much, owned some guns, might have had a rough hand. Still, my Granny loved him and he was the father of her 7 children. He was a trapper and was responsible for fulfilling the breadwinner role in the home. My Granny was expected to stay at home, raise the kids, and do the 1950s housewife thing.

My Granny was an accomplished seamstress. She did everything she could to provide for and support her children, so she clandestinely began to start doing seamstress work and tailoring for the people in town. She used the money to purchase not one, but two life insurance policies on her husband. I told you: the women had a wicked sharp intellect.

Somehow my grandfather found out and in a drunken stupor decided to end Granny's little side business. He picked up her Singer sewing machine right out of the house and marched it to the lake about a quarter of a mile away. There was no way his wife was going to be earning money more than he, much less really make ANY income. As he was ready to toss the whole sewing machine into the lake, he stopped as he heard the cock of a gun from behind him.

It was Granny, holding my grandfather's double-barreled shotgun.

"If you throw my sewing machine into the lake, it'll be the last thing you'll ever do."

Without a word, he turned around and started walking back to the house, my Granny following behind him with the shotgun pressed against the small of his back.

Needless to say, my Granny got her sewing machine back, and my grandfather never spoke of it again.

Now that is a strong woman.

Miss you, Granny.

Call me Little Miss Muffet

...as I apparently need a tuffet *awkward pause* for my bum.

I'd been having consistent back pain for over 10 days now, this hot dull ache right at the base of my spine and, well, *awkward pause* between my bum cheeks. Depending on which side I would sleep on in the night (I'm a side-sleeper), the opposing hip joint would be sore the next morning. Icing it didn't help. Heating pads and hot showers didn't help. Ibuprofen and naproxen sodium would help, but both make me pretty woozy; I have a pretty low tolerance for OTC analgesics. Yesterday, when getting out of bed to turn off my alarm, it felt like someone had both simultaneously stabbed and electrocuted my lower back. I'd had enough. It was time to go to the doctor.

I could only get in my doc's last appointment of the day, so I toughed it out and held off taking any pain meds so I could accurately decribe both the location and quality of the pain. I have a very weird gift for describing pain, something I developed when I was in middle school after numerous repetetive sprained ankles. I told her that there was an everpresent hot dull ache at the base of my spine along the coccyx and radiating outward along the lower end of my hip bones. When moving, sometimes the pain felt like a hot knife being dug into the appropriate muscle. Other times, it felt like a hot electric shock around my entire lower back and down the side of my leg, all the way to my pinky toe.

After a few movement tests, having me sit, stand, and lay on my side, my doc determined that I had mostly likely developed bursitis in my sacrum, aka, joint cushion swelling in my bum. Since everything is inflamed down there, it's pressing on the cluster of sciatic nerve, causing the electric shock sensations. She recommended continuing with the anti-inflammatories (basically 3 advil as soon as I come home from work) and to- get this- sit down on a pillow anytime I had to sit down. Hence: the tuffet reference.

I'm writing this post at work, and let me tell you, it's weird sitting on one of my couch pillows on my office chair. Also, my chair is so crappy that the pillow isn't really helping.

We both think this happened from me sitting on a very hard stool for about 5 hours last Monday, while I was handing out keys to summer housing. I was in a res hall lounge, so the only furniture to sit on were these crappy little stools that offered no support. The long line of students checking in kept me glued to my seat for an hour or two at a time before I could get up. The sustained pressure causes the bursae (little fluid filled cushions between your joints) to become inflammed, thus causing the surrouding tendons to also inflame. Note to self: um, get up off my chair every hour.

So I've got a busted bum and I'm walking around feeling a bit like an old lady. The plan is to see how I'm feeling in a week and go from there. I'm glad this isn't POF-related, as were my intial fears. POF carries a substantially higher risk for osteoperosis and osteopoenia, but my doc isn't worried. My baseline bone density exam last year came back normal.

In other news... some stressful stuff going on that I can't really divulge too much into here yet. But I will say that I am very sad and worried right now. If you can put your good, peaceful thoughts out there in the Universe for me, it would be much appreciated.


(Illustration by Blanche Fisher Wright from The Real Mother Goose, 1916.)

Examining Infertility

As I announced last week mostly via Twitter and Facebook, I've become Examiner.com's Boston Infertility and Miscarriage Examiner. Essentially, I write about all things IF in the Boston region... and they're paying me to do it! I'm rather excited about my first paid writing gig. While the articles may be a bit more locally focused than some of the broader things I write about here, I hope to keep the content fresh, unique, and approachable to all of my readers. One of the first things I'm planning on doing is a series of interviews with some of my recent new contacts I've made in the IF field here in Massachusetts.

I'll always keep links the latest articles on the top right sidebar, but I'll also start posting some teasers here with links to the full stories as well. So far I have two articles live: Infertility and its impact on mental health and Massachusetts Senate bill S485 impacts access to infertility treatment. If you haven't checked them out, please do! And please feel free to retweet them and share them on Facebook as well.

You may have also noticed that I've started doing these "Read More" links on my main page. In an effort to streamline the look of my blog, I realized I write... a lot. And that's a ton of dense text on the page. I figured the "Read More" hack cleans things up a bit (although it won't retroactively do it for all of my posts, so it only really works with yesterday's post). I've also started adding more pics to my posts, because, well- who doesn't like pretty pictures? I'm also learning the wonderful art of photo attribution. It's like learning APA or MLA all over again, so you may notice lots of photo credits from this point out.  It's my way of being a good web citizen.

Hope y'all don't mind the changes around here as I start refining this blog. I'll still post updates on our journey (like yesterday's lengthy and stressful post, The Game of L-if-E), philosophical and motivational musings, and like the interview series I plan to post of Examiner, I hope to bring the same kind of current news and trends in the IF world as well to all of you here at this blog. This all relates to my bigger mission of continuing to be an advocate for infertility awareness as I advocate away through a variety of channels. The more ways I can spread awareness, the better.

(Photo by Erik Stabile via Flickr.)

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:

A Woman of Valor

Maxfield Parrish: Ecstasy.

I wanted to close this ICLW with something that has been an inspiration to me, something I always keep in the back of my mind: the Jewish concept of a Woman of Valor. I'm not here to preach religion, but I hold this ideal in my heart and let it guide me. A Woman of Valor- Eshet Chayil - is a psalm traditionally sung by husbands to their wives on Shabbos (Proverbs 31 to be precise). I found this beautiful re-imagining by Eric S. Kingston on Chabad.org, and I hope it will inspire you too.

A Woman of Valor

By Eric S. Kingston

Dedicated to all the women who showed me what true strength is.

A woman of valor makes the world change

Her strength is the content that guides through the days

Defined by her actions that bring light to all dreams

Valor is something that's defined by her deeds.

Her valor is golden, sparkled and gray

She stands up to the challenge no matter the way

It can't be held back or defined by her age

Yes, a woman of valor makes the world change.

For valor's not held by the young or the old

But by the deeds of the heart that give and unfold

It's merit and honor that hold no disguise

Like the creation of being in the blessed Holy One's eyes.

For valor is the color of the song of her soul

As she changes, creates and turns light into gold

Divine is Her Presence, be it joyous or sad

-- A Woman of Valor --

May offer little, but it will be all that she has.

For only her heart will know the depths of her soul

That nurtures and blossom and forever unfolds

And holds in its essence new life and new gain

Yes,

A woman of valor makes the world change

A woman of valor makes the world change

A woman of valor makes the world change.

Be the change, readers, be the change. Make waves in this world, and to my female readers: you are all  Women of Valor.

Shabbat shalom and to my readers here in the States: a safe and wonderful Memorial Day Weekend.

Women's Health Matters: Period.

Sit tight: this post is a doozy.

I'm a Vagina Warrior.

I realize this is quite a startling way to begin my post, but being a Vagina Warrior drives me, it shapes the way I look at the world, and fuels my passion for women's health advocacy. What exactly is a Vagina Warrior? Well, it stems Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues; I performed in five productions of the show throughout college and two years after I graduated at the first college where I worked. The mission of the V-Day movement is near and dear to my heart, and a Vagina Warrior is someone who fights for women, women's rights both home and abroad, and for the safety and health of women and girls everywhere. My work in health advocacy, particularly around infertility, is how I assign my Warrior status (and when I say Warrior, think dorky Xena sporting Old Navy rather than leather-plated skirt).

So I've got three things my inner Vagina Warrior wants to cover in this post, all related to our periods: Tampons. The Red Tent. Project Vital Sign. Sound interesting? Read on.

So I was thrilled when I saw the new Kotex U commercials:

I am in no way being compensated for this. This was too damn awesome not to share.

Thank you, Kotex, for keepin' it real. I haven't had a "real" period in months, technically years if you count that fact that while on birth control, it's not an actual period as a result of ovulation, rather, it's withdrawal bleeding from a drop in hormones. I'm still experiencing breakthrough bleeding on my HRT (the pill), and I had to use a tampon for the first time in over a year last month. I stared at it like, "You want that to go where?" amazed at how quickly I had forgotten all about this strange feminine product. So when I saw this commercial I appreciated that it wasn't trying to sell me this flowered up idea but was like, "Hey. Hey you, you with the XX chromosomes. You're of menstruating age and you need a practical solution to your monthly biological phenomenon. Here, have a tampon." 

I appreciate Kotex's candor, because women don't like to talk about our periods. It's something society doesn't talk about... like infertility. (Funny how women's problems are marginalized into silence.) Which brings me to my next Vagina Warrior subject: the Red Tent Temple Movement and the forthcoming documentary: Things We Don't Talk About. 

 Anita Diamant's The Red Tent is an inspiring fictional retelling of the story of Dinah, Jacob's only named daughter in the Bible. The Red Tent was where the women of Jacob's tribe gathered for their monthly cycles, for births, miscarriages, and shared sisterhood. (If you haven't read it, go do that this summer. And keep a box of tissues handy when you do.) 

ALisa Starkweather has taken the fundamental ideas of The Red Tent and translated them into a movement of women gathering in sacred spaces to share in each other's sisterhood. Our temples are bedecked in red fabrics and welcome to women of all ages, menstruating or otherwise; the Red Tent Temple Movement is about restoring women's dialogue and celebrating the feminine life experience. The Red Tent Temple has allowed me to restore what I felt was lost- my sense of monthly cycles. While I may not bleed every month, I gather with my friends, my sisters near each new moon at the Salem RTT, and that sense of womanly rhythm has returned to my life. Isadora Leidenfrost will be exploring this movement in her forthcoming film, Things We Don't Talk About: Healing Narratives from the Red Tent. I get the sense that this is going to be an important film, and wanted to put this on folks' radars.

Still with me as I talk about all these "woman" problems? You are? Great. Because my biggest problem is calling Aunt Flo a problem. She should be a welcome guest, not a nuisance! CNN recently published an  article online about women's attitudes toward their periods. The article is (fairly) balanced, but the thing that got me was the general tone that "Ewww! Periods are icky and gross and cumbersome." (Yes, I know for some women, they dread their period: heavy flows, debilitating cramps, nausea, and worse.) It was the title that got me: Periods - who needs them anyway?

Who needs periods? Every woman does, that's who! This leads me to my third and final soapbox moment of this post: Project Vital Sign. Sponsored by Rachel's Well, a non-profit women's health organization, Project Vital Sign is working to create a national movement for educators and health professionals to recognize menstruation is just as much of a vital sign as heart rate, blood pressure, or temperature.

Allow me this divergence... I'm still reconciling my feelings on hormonal birth control pills. On one hand, it kept my ovarian cysts at bay all throughout college, after I had already lost an ovary to a torsioned cyst. On the other, it masked my POI for what could have been years. Now they replace the hormones my body cannot produce naturally. I've had this weird give-take relationship with hormonal birth control, so I'm still not sure where my allegiance lies. The point of this brief divergence is to say that eliminating our periods or masking them is a dangerous game, as we lose a basic sign of our reproductive health. My personal thoughts on birth control aside...

Our periods give us a clear picture of our reproductive health and even our overall health. The fact that the media and society paint our periods as nuisance, gross or insignificant is infuriating: it sends the message that we should do away with them entirely, reinforcing broader social constructs of shame, embarrassment, and silence surrounding women's health issues. I know I'm not going to change society, but I'll be damned if I don't try. And look, don't take my word for it (cue Reading Rainbow music) - Dr. Lawrence Nelson at the NIH/NICHD agrees in a recent piece on NPR:

"There's this disconnect," says Nelson. "The menstrual cycle is just seen more as a nuisance by many women. But actually, [when periods are regular] it's the sign that the ovaries and the whole endocrine system related to reproduction is working the way it should."

My points, after this whole long, ranting post?

Love your period. 

Celebrate your womanhood. 

Advocate for women's health issues.

Because women's health matters. Period.

Wordless Wednesday

First time I'm trying this whole Wordless Wednesday blog meme. I love photography and I love my Lumix LX3. Here's a sampling of some of my artsy-fartsy photos. You can click on the slideshow below to open the whole gallery of thumbnails. Enjoy!

EDIT: Here are a couple of pictures from my birthday yesterday...

Left: Lovely flowers from my in-laws, waiting for me when I woke up yesterday morning. Right: Chocolate fondue at The Melting Pot! I don't know how they did it, but it was delicious ^_^

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.