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04/28/2009
The chicken is involved, and also committed
Once you've been touched by infertility, how can you not stay aware? Even with two kids, even past my own years of crisis, I still see it everywhere. Today's example comes from Margaret Wise Brown's children's classic, Big Red Barn, where even that poor sad bastard of a chicken...
...has a co-worker who just doesn't get it:
Go on. Count 'em. Ten! Now eat it, Nadya Suleman.
This is National Infertility Awareness Week. To, ah, celebrate, I called my congressman's office today and asked, aaaaagain, for him to support legislation to provide insurance coverage for infertility treatment. I bought Pamela Jeanne's book because her story — the story of staying involuntarily childless — needs to be heard, and I bought Tertia's book, which ends the way I wish every infertility story did, because I needed to prop up a wobbly table wanted to support a friend who helped me through a really tough time. And I thought, am thinking nonstop, about how lucky I am that 2,000 stories at bedtime leave me able to quote from memory about chickens, fertile and in-.
RESOLVE suggests seven ways to raise awareness of infertility. What are you doing for NIAW? Haranguing your legislators? Listening without judgment to a friend? Learning something new? Challenging an assumption? Shooting your fertility meds in a public bathroom without hiding in a stall, where just anyone could walk in and see? (Rock on with your bad self.)
Are you doing anything to make an impact? Extra points if you're eating an egg salad sandwich. What can I say? That little bantam hen pissed me off.
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I now religiously correct people who say implant when they mean transferred. It's become a habit. I didn't go through treatment myself but have a dear friend who did and I have experienced pregnancy loss. Reading your blog and others has opened my eyes and made me far more aware of what I say - and what others say, too!
I furiously celebrate (in my head) that my husband's cousin is pregnant after multiple miscarriages.
I am jubliant that they, two of the most caring people I know, may finally, FINALLY, get to be parents.
And I am ecstatic that they are due the same month I am. I would gladly my birth go quietly into the night if they get to celebrate the HELL out of theirs.
Well I wasn't planning to eat an egg salad sandwich but now that you've put the idea in my head I might have to.
Had humongous egg salad sandwich for lunch! Go me!
I promise to never, ever tell someone how few attempts we needed to conceive our kids. Unless I'm totally sure they never wanted kids themselves. Or unless I'm too drunk to know better. No, I can't promise to stop drinking.
Well, I'll blog about this on Strollerderby. And write the congressperson I actually know who is on the committee for the House bill.
I hate egg salad, so I'm no help there.
Oh geeze, I still have a few friends who are still going through infertility and I try and offer as much support and advice as I can. I went 4 years before conceiving my first. We're 11 weeks tomorrow and couldn't be happier, however we have NOT forgotten what it's taken us to get here. We're so thankful. IVF was the way for us and it's the only way we can conceive. We're blessed and we know it. We like to share as much as we can with others.
Here's a cautionary fairy tale for all you little children out there attempting to have children:
A Swedish friend cannot have her own children. Due to a rare disorder causing sky-rocketing blood pressure, a pregnancy would likely kill her. She and her husband already have a child, which was conceived naturally, but born months and months prematurely after a pregnancy from Hell. Still wanting another child, the couple decided to try again - against all medical advice - and did manage to get pregnant only to be told that the mother would most certainly die if they went through with it a second time.
To cut a long and sad story short they had to abort a perfectly healthy embryo.
So our heroes decide to have an embryo implanted in the womb of another woman, who for a fee would carry the child and give birth to it. This is not only legal in several parts of the world, it is also a method that is common enough for legislators to have covered this eventuality, giving the status of parents to the donors only.
This is the case in the Ukraine, for example, and since the cost of having this operation done there is relatively low, our heroes ventured east. They found a woman, the insertion worked on the second attempt, and the pregnancy proceeded as planned until disaster struck in the shape of preclampsia. An emergency caesarian was needed, and the couple had to drop everything in order to rush off to the Ukraine and be present at the birth.
You see, Swedish law doesn't award the status of parenthood to the donors in cases like this, and takes a rather dim view of couples wanting to have babies this way. According to Swedish law, the woman who gives birth is the mother, and the sperm donor - somewhat illogically - the father. There are ways around this, but the egg donor has to be in the country when the child is born, otherwise things get... complicated. So our heroes jumped on a plane and got to the hospital in time, in spite of everything.
So far, so good. Only afterwards, upon contacting the Swedish embassy, the father encounters a beaurocrat who is hellbent on exposing what she evidently sees as some kind of childbirth fraud. This woman of a certain age, let's call her Mrs. Cerberus, refuses to believe the father's claims that his wife has given birth - which, according to Ukraininan law, she has - instead asking him again and again if they haven't used a surrogate. Finally she takes it upon herself to phone up the hospital, asking to have her suspicions confirmed, only to be told that the private hospital is not in the habit of handing out any information about its partients.
This person is an employee of the Swedish Embassy, and as such ultimately a representative of the government of Sweden. I know Sweden is famous as the Nanny State, but this is like a scene from The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, or the lesser known The Hand That Really Would Have Liked To Rock the Cradle Herself.
But the story ends well, with our heroes being able to snatch their babe away from the clutches of the wicked witch of the East. After days of stalling and requesting ever-more byzantine procedures to be followed, someone higher up in the hierarchy caught wind of Mrs. Cerberus's antics, and promptly put and end to them (if sadly not to her), and the happy family is back on Swedish soil even as we speak.
Will they live happily ever after? Fuck no. But for now, they're good, no thanks to the government. That's all one can wish for, perhaps. Everything else would be a fairy tale ending...
I will discuss progesterone suppositories with my unsuspecting, unmarried, child-free, young male coworkers.
Don't leave us hanging! Did the big white hen get a baby chick out of her one egg?
It was a quiet egg. I assume she miscarried.
I celebrate all the time by telling people that I had help concieving my twins, without embarrassment. People ask all the time "Do twins run in your family?" and I smile and say, "No, I was on fertility meds at the time." and when they tease me about how sex results in babies, I smile and say "Really? I had a cup, a tube and an RN". I don't see any reason to be embarrassed by the fact that we needed a little help getting here. The stigma has got to go.
I remembered National Infertility Awareness Week today by saying (very matter-of-factly) "I just had a miscarriage in January" when some of the playground Mommies asked me when I was going to give my 15 month old son a brother.
I'm also vowing to stop my husband from telling infertile women that we got pregnant naturally after getting kicked out of our IVF program...because sometimes, that's just not a great story.
I'm also making sure to never ever complain about my child in my facebook status...never ever.ever.
You know, I've always been pissed off when people ask me the highly personal question of whether or not my twins are "natural." I've been hesitant to give an honest answer, because what business is it of theirs and what the hell does "natural" mean anyway? I think I'm looking at this all wrong.
This is an opportunity to educate somebody about the struggles I faced as an infertile woman. I think in the future I'll reply, "No, it took two miscarriages, three clomid cycles, two intra uterine inseminations and three invitro cycles to finally conceive our miracles. Why? Do you know somebody struggling with infertily?"
I know my story is not unique, and that's the saddest thing of all.
I'm going to celebrate by thanking you, Julie, and all the amazing women who write into this blog to share their stories. I found this site by accident after my miscarriage, when I was really sad and scared about future ability to maintain a pregnancy. I was unbelievably lucky to be able to get pregnant again and have a healthy baby, but I got hooked on this site (and now, others), which has opened up a world that I didn't know anything about. I feel like I've learned a lot, yes, but also that I have become a more aware and compassionate person in the world.
I love the way Julie emphasizes the role of luck. I've been *lucky* and I won't forget that.
A good reminder to purchase Tertia's book. It's been in my Amazon cart forever, this is a good time to click buy.
I knew someone besides my husband would be harassing me to use those leftover Easter eggs.
I believe I will blog about all the infertile/baby loss people I know, who I knew before I knew about bloggers. Apparently, I am a magnet.
I will always say, when someone makes a (invariably negative) comment about the fact that my daughter is an only child, "Well, I think it's a tremendous luxury to be able to choose how many children you have."
(Not, I hasten to say, that I think there is anything wrong with choosing to have one child and no more -- it's just that I had in fact wanted more, but ultimately made the choice to get off the bus after a couple of 12-week missed miscarriages. The casual assumptions behind that kind of remark PISS ME OFF. You never know someone else's story, you never know what someone else has been through, you never know where a painful spot might be.)
haha... I read this after eating an egg and cheese sandwich for dinner!
Well. First I think I may give you, Marj, Tracy, and Shelley a big wet sloppy kiss. Then maybe I'll give the chicken a hug.
(As for the barn book, I was shocked (no, really) to read Jemima Puddleduck to my son and to discover that no, actually, infertility IS everywhere.)
Beyond that, well, I bought Mel's book and am hoping/planning to buy Pamela's (but also to afford another IVF cycle, so funds are scarce...making egg salad attractive for more than just gustatory reasons, as I think about it.).
And I'm out of the closet regarding needing IVF + ICSI to conceive my son, and hope that by so being I occasionally knock a little sense into a few people who need it (or can offer a supporting hand to ditto).
I celebrated by having 20 eggs plucked off my ovaries today! I hadn't planned to tell anybody this time around, but it came up in conversation with girlfriends who (when pressured by a fertile friend) revealed that the reason they weren't having more kids yet is that they'd both had multiple miscarriages. It makes me sad that it took so long for us to all have that conversation.
Sadly, with all the bloating from the meds I have no desire to eat eggs.
I am going to buy Pamela Jeanne's book and contact my congressman.
My husband and I are involuntarily childless. I am not sure I would have made the career choice I made over a decade ago, becoming a Labor and Delivery Nurse, if I would have known that I would never give birth myself.
Ha! During my last cycle, I actually DID shoot my meds in the public area of a bathroom. I mixed and prepped in peace, and then just as I was about to get all stabby, three women walked in. Awkward.
The oldest one gave me this very 'poor dear' look. I think she thought I had some sort of unpleasant ailment. I mean, other than infertility.
Can I get bonus points for difficulty? This happened in an area of town where people regularly inject themselves with drugs. The, er, 'fun' kind.
Ah, good times.
I will start giving the same answer Tracy will, when asked the "Are they Natural Twins?" question.
The answer in my head will still always be: "What kind of a question is that?? I don't ask YOU whether you had sex in the bedroom, or on the dining room table to have YOUR child, do I?"
What gives people the right to ask questions like that (unless they really want to hear more about struggling with infertility, or want to share their own IF story)? Will they still do so when my twins are old enough to understand what they are asking? Understand as in: "Mommy? Why do people keep asking that question? Are we not NORMAL? Do we look funny? Are we less than other kids?"
We will not keep them in the dark as to how they were conceived. They will hear about it from me, in terms they will be able to understand and that will not make them sad. They will know how much we were willing to do to be able to have them. They will know how wanted they were. But that is OUR choice. Not the choice of some stranger at the grocery store...
Maybe I will put a little plaque on the locking compartment of our fridge before I donate it to Habitat Restore.
And definitely egg salad for lunch.
Every day is "Blurt my medical history to ignorant asshats" day. Sort of like the Quakers with their numbered days -- they're all equally special.
Ha. I was seriously eating a breakfast egg sandwich while I was eating this. Not only that, but it had turkey sausage on it. Not hen, but close!
Hey Julie!
On a completely unrelated note, I was wondering if you still quilt and why you never talk about it! The ones in your sidebar album are amazingly gorgeous!! I'd love to see more!
Reading your site, along with others who have been through similar (yet unique) levels of Hell, has taught me so much about infertility. I was a naive 24-year-old when I came across your site, and I now a slightly less naive 26-year-old on the verge of trying to start a family. I enter that new life phase filled with the knowledge that "plans" about reproducing mean jack. I have a healthy level of cautious optimism, and I have the utmost respect and admiration for all women who have struggled with loss. Thank you for helping me become a better person by sharing your story.
Oh, and I really, really can't stomach egg salad, but I had grilled chicken the other night...does that count?
I will continue to remember that anyone I speak with might have had infertility issues. So I'm not going to ask anyone "When are you going to have another?", complain about the difficulty of having children, talk about your child's resemblance to the parents, etc., unless I have some kind of cue or information from them about what's okay, or isn't. And I will continue to express how I am grateful to have children in the first place. (That sounds almost as assy as not being appreciative, doesn't it? I try to do it subtly.)
Well, I try to be sensitive regarding how anyone became a parent. I don't discuss how relatively easy it was for me to be pregnant, I don't assume people want (or wanted) kids, and I don't assume their children came quickly or without struggle. And I'm not sure how related this is to infertility, but I also try to never romanticize my experience of motherhood. Yes it's wonderful, and yes I love my boys immensely, but, sometimes it really, really sucks. And I think my own struggle to become a mom was more painful because I drank the Flavor-aid, and thought it would complete me in every way.
Thanks for reminding me about this Julie. I also thought that the 'still egg' was a miscarriage. Did you see the March of the Penguins? The part where the young penguins make a mistake and their egg rolled away and cracked in the cold - I watched it on New Year's Eve about a year after I miscarried, and I cried as hard as I did when I miscarried, and for almost as long. I totally get why you see this stuff in kids' books. That bantam was a flaunting her nest.
xo
Amanda Lynn
I've been
harassingeducating people with my Facebook updates all week. They're bringing in some interesting responses. Monday's brought in a thought that led to Tuesday's, Tuesday's brought in one of the worst comments ever "Everything happens for a reason," which has led to today's update.Since you asked... I am having babies. Not for me. Not even my babies. Babies for others who cannot otherwise have babies. Actually, having just had a csection (my first, thank you very much) on March 15th for the twins I guess I'm not currently having babies. I'm currently looking for someone who needs babies that I could help.
I am out about our struggles. I will continue to introduce my beloved and only spouse as "my first husband" and I will continue to introduce our lovely girls as "IVF #1" and "IVF #5". My mother will continue to blush and run in the other direction.
I came out to my mom about seeking treatment.
I ate the chicken for lunch, ha!!...and thank you for the link to RESOLVE - I found some great resources there and am planning on joining our local support group.
I wish I had realized this was the week sooner. I will have to do a post to discuss IF and I like the idea of talking about all the IF stories I know. I regularly talk about my IF struggles and IF struggles in general in daily life, and will continue to do so.
As you said Julie, it never leaves you. I am so lucky to have one daughter and be due in June with a son, thanks to fertility treatments. But even with the child(ren), I'm still so aware of IF all over the place.
i'm announcing to my friends that i'm cutting sugar out of my diet because of PCOS, which makes most of them say "huh"? and long conversations about hormones and ovaries ensue. whee!
I don't think I will be able to look at that book the same way again.
Though my med-injecting days are thankfully behind me, last fall I had several evening doses in public restrooms. It never occurred to me to use the stall, any more than it would occur to me to pump breastmilk in a bathroom stall. It led to a couple of interesting conversations...
I'm out, and this week I am going to see a whole bunch of political people who know nothing and are about to hear ALLL about my ovaries.
And how they really need to get their butts in gear and take care of those of us who need medical help.
But first I'm having an egg salad sandwich. Am suddenly hungry!
I learned about people who choose to be "childless" from a gracious co-worker a few years ago. She browsed hard-core and somewhat offensive websites discussing children in very deragatory terms.
It's nice to see someone is addressing it from a different perspective from those on the opposite side of the "childless" spectrum.
Sorry. I haven't done anything but brood. (Am currently pregnant after 8 years, 14 cycles, 5 egg donors, and millions of tears) But Julie, can you find and show the old Looney Tunes cartoon where poor old Miss Prissy couldn't lay an egg and all the other hens laughed at her, then played a trick on her by putting an egg in her nest? They thought it was hilarious how proudly she cared for the egg. And when it hatched, the joke was on them. It was a miniature Miss Prissy! (This cartoon needs to be the theme for all of us who need donors to build our much-longed-for families.) I'd love to see that and you're my techno-genius hope.
A belated and heartfelt thank you for the shout-out here, and for being among the first customers to order Silent Sorority. I hope you find it meaningful and, equally important, a good read.
oxoxoxo, Pamela Jeanne
Enjoy. Seems to me like you've earned a little brooding. *mwah*
Pamela Jeanne, I love your blog, so I don't doubt for a minute that your book is a good read. I'll find out once I finish Mel's.
A very dear friend is having her first conversation with her doctor about IUI today. I am meeting her this evening and I will let her take the lead. I will ask how it went and if she wants to talk, I'll listen. If she doesn't, I'll wait.
I think it would make far more sense to support legislation leading to the investigation and elimination as to the leading causes of infertility. Just providing insurance coverage for fertility treatments seems like pasting a very thin band-aid over a gushing wound. The obvious and real culprits lie in our food, our personal care products -- even our children's toys.
Infertility is an epidemic perpetuated by generations of chemical poisoning; lies fed to us by companies governing our governing bodies. As an expecting mother, due in August, I took the first real step for my daughter's fecund future and eliminated all the shit that I've been mass consuming for years. The result: everyone calls me a hippie, roll their eyes grandly and arrogantly at me, call me hysterical.
But the proof is in the dropping fertility numbers. We are endangering ourselves, and insurance isn't going to cover it.