Coming2Terms

Barren Doesn't Mean Empty

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-07-03T18:37:00Z

Come on in. We've got room in front. Okay, everyone settled? Can you hear me in back? Good.

Okay, I've got a few confessions to make and a decision to share.

First, I haven't been completely silent these past six weeks. Those of you who follow me on Facebook or Twitter know I've been writing for other sites during my Coming2Terms sabbatical. That's right. I've been testing the waters and getting comfortable writing for a wider audience. For instance:

There's my ongoing work to raise awareness about my book Silent Sorority (new reviews arriving regularly)
There are my offbeat pieces like, "How Did I Get So Chesty," which can be found on MORE magazine's website
My commentary on living without children in an era of helicopter parents, "No Kids? Heap the Scorn, We're Ready" lives on Open Salon
My "Father of None, Father of All" -- particularly appropriate this time of year -- highlighting George Washington's infertility appears on Fertility Authority as does my review of the movie Up
And, while I didn't have a column in the latest issue of Exhale, Monica and her team provide a generous selection of thought-provoking material. A special thanks to Monica and Christina for including Silent Sorority in this issue.

Now for my decision before a few more confessions. This will be my last post on Coming2Terms. As those of you who have been with me from the beginning (February 2007) well know I started this blog feeling broken, empty, isolated -- in a word: LOST. I'd been living with infertility for more than a decade and, at 43, found myself confronted with the unthinkable. Infertility treatment of all sorts had proven futile. Time was running out on a spontaneous, miraculous pregnancy and that stark realization flattened me. I was angry, bitter, despairing, prickly. I felt my body had betrayed me. I felt massively misunderstood and, not surprisingly, I didn't like the world very much.

A spin through my earliest posts reveals that I channeled my blackest ire at women who conceived easily. There were even times when I felt positively hateful toward once infertile women who succeeded where I didn't. At times their comments felt disingenuous. Their glowing posts were a stake in my fragile heart. "Look at me, I'm so very pregnant now! Here's my belly (which you'll never have....) to prove it!"

Yes, I confess that I never came right out and said it then, but those posts cut deeper in some ways than hearing about pregnancies from women who had never visited a reproductive endocrinologist. In my angry world, infertile women who posted baby pictures and raved about their newborns were the equivalent of women who unabashedly brought their children into fertility clinics. Have you no decency, no compassion? I screamed more than once at my computer screen.

What riled me up the worst? When women in treatment who did go on to conceive and deliver -- between posting about the joys of motherhood and the cutest thing their child just did -- breezily exclaimed that they could have happily built a live without children if the treatments hadn't worked. "Oh, yes, I know I could have been happy. I would not have looked back .... now here's Junior at 3 mos!"

It's damned easy to be magnanimous, I grumbled, when you've gotten that which someone else can't achieve. When you're grieving the last thing you want to hear is the equivalent of, "Oh, it's not that bad. I know I'd be fine in your shoes. Tra la."

Just as I could never begin to pretend that I know what it's truly like to feel a baby stir or kick in my womb, women who have never ACTUALLY felt the devastation of knowing that conception and pregnancy will never occur don't have a clue what it means to accept that the delivery room is permanently off limits. The finality is overwhelming. Some experiences you have to actually live to know.

Furthermore, there is no joy, no celebration in stopping fertility treatment (well, other than seeing your bank account stop hemorrhaging and your belly and thighs recover from the bruising). It's not a choice in an empowering sense. When financial and emotional resources are rapidly depleting and you're not getting any younger, you are faced with the unpleasant task of deciding when it's time to throw in the towel and step away from the clinic. It is one in a series of difficult decisions that haunt you. That's because stopping treatment doesn't eradicate the tiny hope that nature might, just might, pull out a Hail Mary pass. Until I formally hit menopause a small voice inside me will go on wondering about whether a pregnancy might possibly just happen. And that rather torturous thought in and of itself is something one has to come to terms with, each in our own way and in our own time. There is no neat formula. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.

It looks more like this image I created (see left). So, in sorting out all of the complicated emotions that accompanied the realization that life wasn't going according to plan, I learned to appreciate that I'm stronger than I ever thought I was. The barrage of pregnancies in IF land and the unexpected behaviors I witnessed all around the infertility blogosphere provided a boot camp of sorts. The "days until delivery" widgets and discussions about what color to paint the nursery toughened me up along the way and prepared me to do battle with the real world.

In time, I stopped being angry and bitter in an unproductive sense. Rather than let those emotions control me, I got the upper hand. I mastered and channeled them into something productive -- building a comfortable life as a family of two and treasuring my husband (whose canonization for sainthood is all but a sure thing). I also came to appreciate and accept that loss can be transformational if we allow it to be so. Like a metal that's been forged in fire, I have been strengthened by what has been, at times, an unbearable heat. I realize how far I've come when I see search terms like "barren and empty" point women to Coming2Terms.

I am living evidence for any visitor coming to this blog for the first time who does feel barren and empty today, that barren doesn't mean empty forever. Like a desert that carries its own beauty and life within, there is a remarkable beauty and a peacefulness that reveals itself in time.
As I make clear in my book, Silent Sorority: A (Barren) Woman Gets Busy, Angry, Lost and Found, love can be strengthened by loss. My story will continue to unfold. For those just undertaking the journey of coming to terms, I encourage you to be gentle with yourself. Feel free to comment here on this blog as many new readers arrive every day and the perspectives from other women who are coming to terms can be remarkably healing. Take it from me, I know.

Outside of Coming2Terms, you're welcome to join me as I continue to share my evolving perspectives online. You can follow along as I post new links on my Twitter account. All are welcome to join the Silent Sorority community on Facebook. I didn't get this far by myself so I hope you'll continue to accompany me.

Growing Pains

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-27T14:50:00Z

Uh, oh. I detect some growing pains. The signs are all there. You know, when you wake up and get the sense of being torn in different directions? It's not simply a question of bagel or Cheerios, but am I feeling settled? Unsettled?

Seems I'm a goofy teenager all over again only with better clothes and different skin care issues. Sure, we're always undergoing some form of growing pains, whether it's adjusting to a new routine, a disappointment or a success for that matter, but some transitions are bigger than others and, for me, they always seem gigantic when I'm on the cusp of a birthday.

(Note to those visiting here for the first time: Have no fear. You're not too late. The highlights from the first stage of my life and my experience overcoming the worst of infertility can be found in my book, Silent Sorority. You can get all caught up with me and even find some of the best of my Coming2Terms blog in Silent Sorority, available on Amazon.com. If you like it, please leave a review on Amazon -- you'll be helping other women find fellowship. Meanwhile, have a look around the previous posts and comments -- there is still lots of active sharing going on so please make yourself at home and take part in the conversation.)

Now, I'm not sure what's awaiting me in the next chapter of life, but I'm ready to make the leap nonetheless.

I've taken a sabbatical from this blog before, and while I seriously doubt that I can stop writing altogether, I do know that I need a change. I'm going out of town with my guy on a trip that will culminate in a birthday celebration on June 12. During that time I'll mull over whether it's time I preserve this blog in its current form -- a journey through the unpredictable sometimes oppressive, sometimes absurd, sometimes liberating experiences that come in the wake of unsuccessful infertility treatments -- or perhaps start another blog. Of course, I'd need a new name, a new look, a new charter. To be continued...

Ta-ta for now my dear Internets.

Revisiting Tents Old and New

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-26T02:00:00Z

I don’t often read books more than once, but when my online book club suggested The Red Tent I decided to take another look. I first cracked the spine of this book more than 10 years ago. I was on a tear through historical fiction then and this book fit the bill perfectly.

Just pages in, I found myself intrigued by one character in particular: Rachel. She was young, nubile and barren.

What a coincidence. I was young, nubile and having problems conceiving, but I wasn’t barren. Surely not, I reasoned. For one thing barren was a biblical term. Her story took place in Old Testament times, back when they didn’t know much about science, but bless their backwards souls they still threw everything they knew at the problem.

Rachel “tried every remedy, every potion, every rumored cure. She wore only red and yellow…whenever she saw running water, she lay down in it, hoping for the life of the river to inspire life within her. She swallowed tincture made with bee pollen…”

Hah, I laughed to myself. The lengths some women went through back in the day to figure Mother Nature out.

Me? Fortunately, I lived in the modern era. I was in the early days of doctor visits, workups and tests aimed at figuring out why I couldn’t conceive, but I was anything but barren. That’s because I was under the mistaken impression that science had all the answers when it came to reproductive matters.

Barren women didn’t exist anymore. Naïve me. Now 10 years wiser, I know better.

Below you'll find some of the questions from the book tour. You can read more by visiting the online book club list at Stirrup Queens. You can also sign up for the next read: Navigating the Land of If by Melissa Ford.

In the book, women's relationships to higher power(s) are complicated and it is to the gods of her family that Rachel calls with her simple and desperate ultimatum: "Give me children or I will die." In the context of your own relationship (or lack thereof) to a higher power, do you feel entitled to the same kind of an ultimatum?

I don’t feel “entitled” to such ultimatums, but there were days when similar pleas echoed in my head and overwhelmed my heart. When no children resulted from our efforts to conceive the hole in my heart seemed as immense as a black hole threatening to swallow me whole. In reading about Rachel’s grief the second time around I have a new appreication for the agony so well characterized by author Anita Diamant. Regardless of the era, being barren hasn't gotten any easier for women. Pregnancy is celebrated today with the same intensity as in previous times, maybe even more so ... let's look at the thriving industry devoted to all things baby bump, shall we?

Dinah is the one daughter, the one to carry all their stories, all their voices. In the context of the book, it is a literary device that allows the author to tell stories of Jacob's wives. But what does it speak of to you? In your own life, have you felt, as Dinah does, a carrier of living memory? Do you feel your own voice better protected in the age of blogs, or do you see an enduring need for connection across generations?

For years I created photo albums and kept journals to document and mark events and experiences with the expectation that one day I might share them with curious offspring, and that, later still, successive generations might stumble upon them as I did with photos and keepsakes of relatives who came before me. As it became abundantly clear that my husband and I wouldn’t be able to have children and grandchildren to revisit and carry our stories and memories I felt a strong urge to convey elements of our lives, our experiences in writing that was more generally accessible—hence this blog and my book.

It’s reassuring in a strange sort of way to know -- after we’ve bought the farm -- that there’s some likelihood future generations might discover and contemplate some portion of our lives. Just as I’ve enjoyed what I've learned from autobiographies and memoirs of others who came before me, I write with a small sense of satisfaction that a part of me will live on ... because history comes alive and generations stay connected when we share common experiences across time and distance.

The Red Tent fascinated me because it takes a story everyone knows as truth and turns it on end. Heroes are weaklings, villains are not, and the lines between good fortune and bad fortune are not so defined. Is there a story from your own life that could be told in a completely different way than how you've always thought it to be?

Um, yes. Funny you should ask. It's captured in Silent Sorority. I never would have guessed when I read The Red Tent the first time that I'd be able to understand Rachel and what it means to be barren to the depth and degree that I do today. Fortunately for me, I have my own tent of sorts here with barren babes -- and friends of barren babes (FOBBs) -- welcome to hang out and let their hair down.

* * * *
For more on life as I see it, you can read my latest Barren, Not Beaten column called "Extreme Reality" on Fertility Authority.

Welcome your thoughts and perspective on these ideas. The tent door is open...

Going Up!

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-19T02:16:00Z

An an infertile (that's right, all you "as a moms," ... we infertiles can invoke superiority, too!), I'm happy to report that there's finally a movie coming to theater near you that contains a story line that portrays infertiles as endearing, not selfish ... sweet, not reviled or pitied.

Time magazine says the movie, Up, will prove to be one of the most satisfying movie experiences of the year. Hallelujah! It's about freakin' time. Hollywood has some serious making up to do for consistently negative story lines about my people. Time's Richard Corliss writes:

"Spanning two continents and seven decades, Up begins in a 1930s movie theater. A newsreel tells us that famous explorer Charles Muntz (voiced by Christopher Plummer) is just back from South America's remote Paradise Falls with the bones of a prehistoric bird. Denounced as a fraud by archaeologists, Muntz vows to retrieve a member of the species and bring it back alive. In the audience, wearing aviator goggles atop his thick-rimmed specs, is young Carl Fredricksen, who is enthralled by Muntz's motto, 'There's adventure out there!'

"On the way home, Carl finds a kindred spirit: a girl named Ellie, as vivacious as he is stolid, who harbors the same dream of visiting Paradise Falls. It's love at first sight, and in a tender montage, Up shows us their life together: the wedding, the fixing up of their home, the quiet walks, their respective jobs at the local zoo (she tending the animals, he selling balloons), their eager preparations for a child they later learn they can't have, their need to defer the big trip to pay for home improvements, then her slowing pace and death. This series of vignettes is played without dialogue and underscored by Michael Giacchino's wistful waltz. It's the sweetest, saddest 4 1⁄2 minutes you'll ever see on film."

Of course, I haven't seen the movie yet as it hasn't opened, but I know the story line well. We infertile couples today live a parallel, updated version not in animated form. We experience love at first sight and fix up our homes, take quiet walks, work at respective jobs, and ... make eager preparations for a child we learn we can't have ...

It's sad and it's sweet, and yes, like Ellie and Carl we are devoted to each other.

Fortunately, for me and my guy, we aren't in our 70s yet. We're now at the point in our lives when we treasure our time together. We remain young in heart and mind, still madly in love. We're not delaying our visit to our comparable Paradise Falls. Travel and exploring is something we do as often as we can. This past weekend we dropped the top on our convertible and headed down Hwy 1. We cavorted on the beach in Carmel watching the waves from the Pacific Ocean crash on the beach. We visited a lovely little winery in Carmel Valley Village and, later in the evening, curled up entwined in each other's arms to watch one of our favorite series, The Tudors, before giggling like a couple of overtired kids in bed.

Next weekend, we're kicking off summer with a hike in the Sierra Nevada mountains and a barbecue next to Lake Tahoe...and that's just the beginning of a long series of adventures we're planning together.

Thank you in advance, Pixar. I think I'm gonna like looking Up for a change.

Envy and Equanimity

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-13T14:06:00Z

Some remarkable milestones to report:

1) I was pea green with envy yesterday, but not for the usual reason (that's right folks, pregnancy was not involved!) ....

2) A new work acquaintance asked me if I had children and my first instinct was not to throw something at him.

I think both episodes show signs of progress, yes? Okay, the details.

I've been working a few days a week at a really interesting startup where the only downside is that it requires 60-90 minutes of drive time each way. Since I abhor long, slow commutes I try to distract myself with NPR stories. Yesterday's feature had me wrestling with the ugly green monster.

Why? The guest was a new author talking about her book chronicling her experience, at 37, to freeze her eggs. Ah, you say, you envy her the access to a new, promising reproductive technology? No actually, I envied her the slot she scored on NPR's Talk of the Nation discussing her new book.

I laughed at the realization that I'd graduated from pregnancy envy to book envy. In each case I have had to work harder to get fewer results. You've got to admit the parallels are ironic. First, I couldn't get pregnant while doing everything required and then some while everyone around me was getting knocked up right and left. And, now, at a time when I finally delivered my book about the hidden tolls of living in an era of designer babies and clinics marketing fertility for all, I'm reminded again that mainstream media has a fascination with making babies, but they're less interested in what happens when all the whiz bang technology doesn't deliver on its promise.

Ah well, I'm getting very comfortable being the Rodney Dangerfield of reproductive technology outcomes (and books about them).

Now, for item numero dos. For years I avoided any and all social and work situations that might land me in the middle of small talk with new people. I was expert at the handshake and run. It was my way of self protection and a sure fire means of avoiding the evitable question about whether I had children. Yesterday I not only got the question, I answered it without my usual indignation at getting the query; it was completely in context (we were discussing dosing of medications from a pediatrician's point of view). I answered it without feeling any malice whatsoever toward the man and continued with the conversation about the delicate nature of new drug therapies.

Now, if only I could get NPR to ask me about my experience not getting pregnant...

Mother's Day: From Meh to Arrghh!

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-10T02:04:00Z

Newsflash: Non-moms do not represent a unified voting block, as evidenced by the 46 responses to my recent request for non-mom perspectives about Mother's Day on HARO. Much of the differences in opinion stemmed from the circumstances that led to being a non-mom (e.g. those who chose not to have children vs. those who wanted children but weren't able to).

Sure there are some -- yours truly being one -- who find the over-the-top mommy marketing palooza hard to stomach, but other non-moms take a more zen-like approach. Where we can all agree, though, is around the idea that all women -- not just mothers -- deserve a nod for all they do for their families, communities and the world at large. Here, in their own words, are more thoughts from non-moms on Mother's Day.

Thank you!! It is nice to see someone willing to acknowledge that there are woman not called 'mother' out here. Gritting my teeth is exactly the way I get through it. Every commercial for mother's day has me running for the remote control. Any other channel will do. I feel anger at the assumption that all women must be or will become a mother. My mantra becomes soon another 'holiday' will be here and they'll forget all about this mother's day business.But it is all around you. In the magazines, on the TV talk shows, 'news' shows, entertainment; talk about who is pregnant, how awful it would be to not experience the wonderfulness of pregnancy and having children. It seems when the childless woman is mentioned it is as the butt of jokes or with a sad shake of the head, if she gets thought about at all. I wish there was a better way to get through it than Haagen Daas, Hershey's and trying to close it out of your hearing and your mind. --Lee

I am a married woman who has chosen not to have children. I become irritable during Mothers Day season. I do agree that women who have children have a lot on their plate. However, women who do not have children are also doing great things. We also balance home and work responsibilities, give back to the community in many ways and like to feel appreciated. Why is it that only mothers get cheered on for what they do? Wouldn't it be nice to have a "Woman's Day" where all women get to be pampered and celebrated for what we contribute to society? By genetics and culture women are programed to be nurturers whether we have children or not. I, for one, want that acknowledged. I volunteer at JA in part to fulfill my need to nurture children. Shouldn't this count? I plan on having my own private celebration this year. -- Jennifer

I am currently a NON-mom. Not by choice. I just grit my teeth and try to focus on my mom and (my mother in law sort of demands attention). It's hard in a way, and I try to do my best to ignore what I can. People don't get it that it can be a hard day for someone who is trying SO hard to have kids. I also cope by figuring that some day, come hell or high water. I, too, will be a mom! -- Jessica

I do not have children (at least none that I know of!), something that was a conscious choice. Also, my father died on Mother's Day. Because of that, the "holiday" is a non-entity in my life and has been since 1963. If I do anything that day, I tend to go into nature with my dog, do some meditation, maybe some writing. It's a time of chosen solitude with the "mother of us all," meaning Mother Earth. -- Libbe

I have had an exciting and successful career as a model and then as an account executive for some of the top fashion designers. I am happily married to artist Pablo Solomon and we live a wonderful life. However, when I was 18, I was one of the first young women to be diagnosed as having cervical cancer due to my mother being given DES. So I had a hysterectomy which saved my life but prevented my having children. Each mother's day is a mixed bag. I am thankful that my life was saved, but sad that I never had children. I have devoted my life to my work, my husband and my animals. In a sense, I consider myself to be the mother to my animals and to their environment. -- Beverly Solomon

I am single, have no children and have never been married. I do date. I work in childcare as a nanny as a second job to my business, and I have encountered (sort of a lot) of disrespect from people due to my non-mom and non-married status.This disrespect hasn't always been outright; some of it was subtle condescension from my former boss when I would bring up the subject of men, (she was married with one child and was also expecting). I have learned to cope with this by surrounding myself with people who respect me. -- Reece

This Non-MOM has two wonderful cousins (more like nephews) and even though I have never gotten an aunt card for mother's day I know those kids love me and they know I love them. In fact, until reading about your story, I have never even thought about myself on mother's day--bought the gift and took my mother out to lunch and that's it...But now that you made me think about it... -- Leslie

I'm a 48 year old, divorcee (do they still say that?!) who's very happy living her life in LA. However, most of my clients have kids and there's advertising in my face EVERYWHERE! What's a childless girl to do? I happen to love kids, so I can grin and bear it, but it does make me feel like there's something not-quite-right about me. Especially when everyone's making plans for Mother's Day. I'll be eating frozen yogurt and taking a walk on the beach, I guess! -- Rona

I am not a mother and Mother's Day has not always been a good day. I do have two goddaughters, yet godmothers still get left out. Quite a few years ago, I started celebrating women's day instead. This year I am volunteering teaching tennis in the p.m. and helping with a breast cancer run in the a.m. I do and support events for all women on this day and call/thank my non-mom friends for their support of me over the years. I know that it is not exactly the same -- as I am constantly reminded by birth moms. The spiritual/communal ways women exert their motherhood is just as important. I can do things to help my community that moms cannot because they are raising their families. It is still rough, but this is my way of turning the day around. -- Elaine

Mother's Day reminds me of a lot of other holidays like Valentine's Day, Thanksgiving, XMas, Father's Day; many of which are more a recent invention of marketing hype than any particular cultural or historical significance. Personally, I like to focus on celebrations that revolve around an accomplishment or event, like birthdays, graduations, anniversaries, and things that are not so much dictated to us by society. I find personal celebrations far more memorable and meaningful. -- Jennifer J

Jennifer J: My better half has a similar take. He refers to what we face today as Holiday Inflation. Where once Mother's Day was when we made an extra effort to do something thoughtful for our mothers (e.g. make a card or a phone call or send flowers or a trifle), the day has morphed into a compulsory event with the social angst approaching that of Thanksgiving or Xmas. Hallmark, the media and the marketeers have outdone themselves.

Let's get back to the basics, shall we? I salute all women and their efforts to make the world a better place...

Just Five More Days...

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-06T13:42:00Z

Well, heeeellllllooooo!

Had enough, yet, of the Mother's Day marketing? Just a few more days, ladies, and then we can look forward to the distractions caused the barrage of email marketing associated with May 18 -- International Museum Day (I kid you not!). So we have a winner in a very close contest for the Mother's Day/Infertiles spoof (belated because my guy was out of town).

Annacyclopedia hooked him with waffles -- influenced, no doubt, by his morning coffee.

- At the best brunch joints in town: "Free brunch for all infertiles, past and present. Because nothing says I love you like all-you-can-eat waffles."

(Thanks to all of our participants and congrats, Annacyclopedia! Please email the address where I can send you the More magazine subscription.)

So I've been accumulating quite a few interesting responses to a query I submitted last week to HARO (Help a Reporter Out). I'll have a longer post for this Sunday. In the meantime, I welcome your answers to this same query:

As marketers rev up their Mother's Day campaigns, a contingent of women get the cold shoulder or are made to feel like second class citizens (e.g. women who wanted children but couldn't have them or single women/aunts, etc.). Would like to hear from non-moms. How do you cope/manage through the mom-palooza and mother deification? Do you indulge yourself? Head for hills? Grit your teeth?

* * * * * *
And, if you haven't heard yet, the newest edition of Exhale is now out. My column explores the woman I'd like to become. I've come a long way, but still so much to do, so little time...

(Finally, a happy anniversary to my parents! 48 years of wedded bliss. Seriously these two are like teenagers with their first puppy love, still!)

This Scary Thing, That Scary Thing

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-05-01T07:01:00Z

M E M O R A N D U M

To: The Month May
From: Pamela Jeanne
Subject: Go Easy On the Life Stuff, 'Kay?
cc: Coming2Terms Readers

We all know that I'm just now finding my sea legs with this whole "getting on with my life all barren and beautiful" so bear with me if I get a little wobbly now and then. You've been warned. This blog is likely to go through some growing pains (more on that and other non-mom stuff coming soon).

Truth be told, the "I am a published author" thing hasn't really sunk in yet. I still wake up with goofy bed hair, wonder if my next 40-something years will be as weird as the first 40-something years, and, you know, generally get on with the business of living ... commute to work, grocery shop, take out the trash and do the laundry, etc., etc.

Also distracting me from the culmination of five years of editorial effort, there were the brutal reality checks that came flying at me in April. If you've been following my Tweets you know that I had a breast cancer scare. (Yeah, I needed that like I needed a hole in the head!) One fine day in April I showed up for my annual mammogram. Two days later on a bad cellphone connection, just ahead of Easter, I heard a voice fading in and out from the imaging center saying, "Drs. so and so don't like what they see" -- can I come back the Tuesday after Easter for an ultrasound of my mysterious mammaries. WTF?

Yeah, it felt not so great to be consumed with the big "C" while, tra la, the rest of the (Christian) world gorged on chocolate bunnies and spiral sliced hams. Monday in the office felt like a month of Mondays and Tuesday morning after 90 minutes of getting my girls slammed, scanned and prodded by three different people wearing white coats (nasty flashbacks of IVF clinics all the while dancing in my head while I prepared for the bad news), I learned that unlike IVF I flunked all the tests but passed the final.

Then, there's this whole virus thing. Nothing like a little cancer scare and pandemic threat to grab you by the throat and remind you that life is actually quite fragile, and we humans who think we are large and in charge -- not so much.

Here's the strange thing. As an infertile, I was eerily calm about getting what looked like assuredly bad news from the imaging center, and, more recently still, I've been quite un-agitated contemplating the worst of the virus thing. This morning brushing my teeth I realized why I'm so whatever. Losing my breasts or losing my life just doesn't scare me the way it once might have.

Why? I already know what it means to see my body as mangled and broken. My boobs are ornamental -- always have been, always will be since the mammary glands that lie within have been and always will be dormant.

And the grim reaper thing? Not stressed in the least. Why doesn't death scare me?

Simple. I've already been dead once. Worse still, I lived dead among the living with no hope, no feeling, no future.

Fortunately, after being dead I found my way back to the living. So, here in the wee hours of May with my boobs intact and my body virus free (at least that I know of), I'm happy just to be .... not stuck in the past, not fretting about the future. I just am.

(I've also been extraordinarily busy at work, so I apologize for the lack of visits/comments on your blogs...I hope that May brings a few moments of peace and quiet here and there so I can catch up.)

"Birth" Announcement: Silent Sorority

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-04-25T07:01:00Z

We welcome with relief ....

Silent Sorority
April 25, 2009
6 inches x 9 inches 13.6 ounces
205 pages
Joins proud "mother" Pamela M. Tsigdinos and "father" A. Tsigdinos

I think I did that correctly (name, date, size and weight)...I dunno. As anyone who has been here before knows I've never actually written a birth announcement. I think I'm supposed to talk about how long the labor lasted (try five years -- elephants have nothing on me). And, consider yourself lucky because even though we live in the YouTube era, we didn't videotape the delivery. Suffice to say there was plenty of grimacing, screaming and hyperventilating throughout the labor.

My next book will be about rainbows and butterflies, something Disney would embrace. Why? Well, I've learned the hard way a story pitch that shorthands to "How a (Barren) Woman Gets Busy, Angry, Lost and Found" just doesn't fit the traditional publishing world's narrow view of a sale-able book. Here's the way the past two years played out on the pitch front ...

Me: But there's humor, a love story, some cattiness here and there and plenty of sexual references. Certainly that's got to be good for something, no?

Publishing world: Well that helps, of course, but ... you know what the problem here is?

Me: It's the use of the "I" word, isn't it? But I changed it to "barren" -- that's biblical ... totally retro, right?

Publishing world: DOES NOT MATTER! If it concerns the "I" of any kind ... we are totally allergic, find it all very tedious...

Me: Hang on now, there's drama, suspense, tears and laughter.

Publishing world: Read my lips ... infertility stories of any kind = Kryptonite. And, there's no baby in your book, right? Well that's not gonna work. It's got to end with a BABY!

Me: But you're missing the point! It's got an "Indie" film-like ending. Did you know that last book about life after infertility without babies or kids came out in 1989!? That was 20 years ago. A few things have changed. Let's see, there's the Internet (that was pretty big), and then the "mommy movement" took shape, fertility clinics popped up on just about every corner...

Publishing world: Oh, so you're saying the environment, society has changed?

Me: Uh, yeah. Conventional wisdom is all screwed up today. Everyone thinks science will get any infertile couple out of a jam (heard about OctoMom or those 40+ moms on the cover of People -- like they didn't use IVF or donor eggs, gimme a break!?) And, let's not forget the biggest myth of all ... the "freely available" babies ready to be drop shipped to your door (or why not do what Angie does, adopt a kid from every country as though it's as easy as picking out a souvenir at the airport.)

Publishing world: We gotta have the brain-dead simple mainstream pablum. Our readers don't like to have to think. Joe the Plumber on Infertility, maybe...

Me: Okay, I'm used to swimming upstream. Furthermore, I've been pregnant with this thing for nearly five years. You've left me no choice. I will do it my way ...

And so, my dear Internets, on the first day of National Infertility Awareness Week, you can order your own signed copy of Silent Sorority here or on the ubiquitous Amazon.com for those in far flung places.

And special shout-outs to the lovely women behind Lost in Type A and Onward and Sideways and Denise at BlogHer. Each got an early look at the manuscript and wrote about it.

Greeting Cards, Ads You'll Never See

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-04-21T14:17:00Z

I like the way RESOLVE thinks. They see an opportunity and seize it. They get right out ahead of the Hallmarkized juggernaut, a certain "M" day, by highlighting the other side of the coin: National Infertility Awareness Week. That's right, mark your calendars. It starts this weekend, April 25, and runs through May 2. You can take part here in a number of ways.

Funny thing, though. We're practically on top of it and I haven't gotten one measly email from a merchant offering discounts on flowers, spa treatments, brunch, dinner, jewelry, clothing and the like. I don't expect to receive sappy cards and I certainly am not likely to get every Tom, Dick and Harriet wishing me a hearty Happy Infertility Awareness Week!

But I know, as in years past, that if I'm out and about the second Sunday in May, I'll get more than one person wishing me a Happy Mothers Day. It's quite surreal. They always catch me off guard. I can't help but look for the hidden camera. Have I been Punk'd? Is it like St. Patrick's Day. Is every woman suddenly a "mom" on Mother's Day?

The casual "now have a happy M day" cheerfully delivered once tore me apart. The "M" didn't stand for Mother. It stood for Mourning. How many tears have I wept on that day? More than enough to fill a Great Lake ... for lost children, lost chances, loss of innocence, loss of my future as a grandmother (you can't say I don't have range when it comes to mourning). The weeks just before, when the marketing machine was going full tilt, served up torturous, painful reminders that took a few weeks to get over.

I've come a long way since those sad and angry days. This year I am not going to let it get the upper hand or flatten me. I'm not going to hit delete as fast as the "M" subject header shows up in my inbox. It's time to teach "M" Day providers a little lesson. I'm going to forward the ads to the customer service department and ask what sort of specials they offer for infertile women. I can be as cheeky as the people serving up the unwanted emails.

Meanwhile who wants to join me for a little laughter is the best medicine? Tap into your creative side. You know you want to ... and there's a reward. A free one-year subscription to More magazine for the best greeting card verse, ad copy or spoof on M Day marketing. The decision will be made by Mr. PJ and awarded on May 2.

I'll start (but I'm not eligible for the prize)...

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Your Uterus is Whack, But That Hardly Describes You!

* * * *

Editor's Note: You can also read my latest Barren Not Beaten column here.

Kind Mom Trumps Mean Mom

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-04-16T22:29:00Z

First, I'd like to thank Shaz and Loribeth for their shout outs and the Sisterhood Award. In turn, I'd like recognize those who take the time to participate in a meaningful conversation here on Coming2Terms. The comments on the last post are a great example of sisterhood at its finest.

Infertile women living in a fertile world know well the meaning of "death by a thousand cuts." That's because repro-challenged women are too often blindsided, stung or sucker-punched by careless comments, gestures or oversights. So when I hear from mothers who genuinely want to be better friends to my peeps I'm happy to recognize them with my own Act of Kindness commendation. One day I hope such kind behaviors are so freakin' commonplace they no longer need to be called out.

(Now there's some irony in that the same day I received an email from a kind mom, a mean mom flamed me. Guess my last two posts struck a little too close to home. Seems some mommies can dish it out but they can't take it. Flamer girl clearly would have sucked at dealing with infertility and the barrage of weird stuff we have to tolerate. If a momzilla reference torqued her, can you imagine how she'd have managed if the tables were turned? Fortunately, kind mom "C," made mean mom look even more puny). "C" writes:

I try to be mindful in conversations how incredibly painful and vacant infertility must be.

I wish so desperately I could help in some way. I am not sure what route I would have taken. You just want joy for those you care about and each person's joy meter pegs to different scenarios. It is frustrating as "the friend" not being able to spring into action with a plan. Many times we offer space as it seems required or desired not due to lack of caring. We have no cues or clues as to the best response at times so perhaps we disappoint with our quiet mode. We also want to weave the fabric of our lives into the correspondence but are sensitive to the fact that our joy may be coming at the exact moment your old friend sadness decides to move back in.

A dear friend of mine who lost a child at a young age bristled when people called on the holidays or her daughter's birthday to check in because this day must be particularly painful. She quietly told me, with that catch in her voice, that "every day is exactly the same. It never leaves." That really stuck with me. I now look at everyone's grief differently after that comment thundered over my head.

I bet a lot of your pals are not sure what to say or do so they do absolutely nothing. Keep leading us and communicating. I know it will vary day to day, week to week, even one hour to the next but if you need a listening ear, a tarot card goofy night, a singing greeting card, a surprise coffee mid-day....sometimes you need to ask. If you know them really well? Demand.

What a kind heart. I told "C" in an email exchange that I wish we could clone her. Speaking of lovely people who give back, let's show some love to Kelly who is walking for some great causes this weekend. Kelly hasn't forgotten what's like to try to conceive against the odds so she's taking part in the RESOLVE Walk of Hope in Scottsdale, AZ, April 19 where participants can register for a free IVF. Seriously, free, but you must be there to win. You can also join me in supporting Kelly's March of Dimes fundraising efforts April 18 here.

We barren gals have our moments but we know how to return kindness with kindness. Got any kindness or enlightenment you'd like to spread around?

What Does Choice Have to Do With It? Plenty

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-04-13T01:35:00Z

Warning: A longer and more complicated than usual post here. Hat tips to Liana and to Christina, two smart and sassy online pals who exercise my brain and challenge my thinking in a good way. Each pointed me to articles in the past week or so that formed the foundation for this post.

Humans. We're such predictable and simple beings when it comes right down to it. We're social by nature, competitive on a whole bunch of levels, and we crave validation. We're also primal and spontaneous but feel at our best when we're in total control of our destiny -- often two ideas at odds with each other.

These striking characteristics of humankind have become quite apparent to me in my seemingly never-ending quest to make sense of my life (and my often conflicted feelings about infertility). Bear with me, but this entry is a break with past posts, where I've drawn a line in the sand between fertiles and infertiles. Recently, I have been mulling over two distinctly dissimilar groups of adults who curiously share one very important and life-defining element in common.

In the first group, consider those who had "oops" pregnancies and reluctantly went on to become parents, and those who couldn't conceive at all and reluctantly accepted that pregnancy was just not in the cards. In both cases, conscious choice did not play a central role, biology did.

These seemingly distinct fertile and infertile types are remarkably similar and 180 out from their opposites. The second group includes those for whom conscious choice trumped biology, and I mean kicked biology's ass.

I'm talking about those who consciously and wholeheartedly dominated the primal thing, set a timetable and, voila, conceived and delivered whatever number of babies they felt they could comfortably raise. Their equivalent are those who consciously and without reservation decided they did not want to have kids, no way no how, and carefully controlled their reproductive tendencies to ensure no babies arrived on the scene.

(Within these groups there are various subgroups. In particular, there are those who couldn't conceive and went on to adopt and those who conceived but didn't see parenthood as a viable option and gave up their children for adoption, accordingly. For the purposes of this post, I'm going to leave it there. With adoption comes a much deeper set of issues that I'm not equipped to discuss with any authority. In the main, these two subgroups do, however, share on big thing in common with the second group: they made a conscious choice to be or not be parents).

Choice, if I haven't made it abundantly clear, is the operative word here. Choice has good and not so good ramifications. Same goes for not choosing.

Take parenting, for example. Today we have two "choice" groups all but at war with each other. At the extremes are those smug, in-your-face parents who dote on their children to the point of making others around them wonder if their goal was to have children or merely accessories to show off or to demonstrate their superiority with the whole fertility/virility thing. Their counterparts are those equally smug, often dogmatic child-free by choice (CFBC) types for whom any child is one too many. They tend to prefer children, in general, be out of sight and out of mind.

Of these two opinionated groups, the "I am a Mommy, hear me ROAR types," are the most obvious chiefly because they have the most gear. They've become more organized and vocal in recent years. There is an actual "mommy movement." In the past few years some 5,000+ mom's clubs have taken shape and, curiously, have become rather un-mom-like what with their exclusivity (since when did moms need dues and memberships? aren't moms supposed to be nurturing and accepting of all?)

Ironically, the most dogmatic mommies don't often do a very good job managing their children because they're so busy demanding to be recognized for their momminess and keeping up with their Mom's Club obligations. The die-hard daddies are no better.

To fight back, the CFBC types have their own manifestos and organizations. In OpenSalon one child-free woman riffs on the many reasons motherhood just wasn't for her in You'll Change Your Mind. You can read more about both extremes in Harper's Bazaar, which offers an intriguing socio-cultural view of the two competing camps in Baby Blues.

I've developed a new appreciation for the tribal divisions that exist across society and the behaviors that come with identifying too closely with any one identity or ideology. Let's look at some less super charged examples: the Ohio State Buckeye (or name your sports team fanatic) who paints his or her body parts; the "we are the center of the world" New Yorker; the Del Boca Vista Phase III snowbird; or the self-righteous boho in Berkeley -- the tribal affiliations go on and on. When we align ourselves with a particular identity or tribe we need to validate our choices. It's what we humans do. It makes us feel a tad superior when we know we've made the right decision. The right choice. Choice made, we tend to delve deeper into our respective communities.

Yet on the fertility front -- in particular for those of us for whom conscious choice didn't play a role -- we are often in an odd state of mind. We don't quite fit in. The parents not by conscious choice probably wonder what their lives would have been like without the responsibilities and sacrifices of raising children, but they do get the advantages of society validating the importance of being parents, and if they're fortunate, great kids who bring more joy than aggravation to their world. You might find them still wearing "World's Best Mom or Dad" sweatshirts following Mother's or Father's Day.

There are no "World's Best Infertile" shirts in my drawer or bumper stickers on my car, and you won't find me at any Infertile-by-Choice confabs. Have no fear, I'm not going to get all woe is me here. I do appreciate the non-messy condition of my house, the fact that I can come and go as I please on Saturday mornings, and the germ-free play dates with my husband, among other things.

And apparently marriages without children are happier ones, or so says a study reported on in Marriage Without Children the Key to Bliss. I'm quite happy with my marriage so there's another data point.

The "deal with the hand you're dealt" crew, well, we're just trying to do the best we can. It is, after all, the ambiguities of life that serve up the most challenging and interesting experiences.

Now to the Momzillas and Dadzillas, and the CFBC types, do take a chill pill. We recognize your choices -- you don't have to make a federal case out of them. The competition between the "choice" groups gives me a bit of a headache to be honest. They are both high and mighty and a bit absurd in their own special and annoying way.

Hey, I know how to make them feel better: This should do it:

You both win, okay?

If you're still reading, please share your thoughts.

A Study in Contrast: Non-Mom and Mom

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-04-06T13:56:00Z

Where's the freelance documentary crew when you need one? This weekend offered up some good material, a mini study in contrast: "Non-Mom and Mom."

The protagonists are two great friends who have known each other 20 years. They had plans way back when to be pregnancy pals and comrades in motherhood. One friend had four pregnancies and three children, the other had three "alpha" pregnancies but no children. (I'm guessing you know which one was me).

Role tape ...

The scene opens with non-mom placing a call from her car after dropping her guy at the airport's white curb -- you know the one for loading and unloading only? It's been more than six months since non-mom and mom last saw each other (mostly due to non-mom's "unavailability" -- screaming toddlers not being high on a non-mom's "must-see" list ).

Mom is home and happily invites non-mom over. The rendezvous arranged, non-mom sings along to tunes on the car radio. She's riding a high from endorphins delivered that morning during a robust workout at the gym. Still humming, she approaches an unusually still house.

Shhh...mom tells her when she opens the door, the kids are just down for a nap. Mom apologizes for not yet making it into the shower and picks up children's socks, toys and sippy cups as they make their way into a kitchen that looks like it's been hit by a tornado.

Non-mom catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror. With freshly washed hair and a complexion accented by a dewy coral blush and a complementing crisp, coral colored top, non-mom appears to glow. Mom, meanwhile, brushes some oatmeal off of her top and invites non-mom to sit down on a patio chair after removing kid's toys from the seat.

What comes next is a delightful uninterrupted visit where the old friends talk about everything and nothing. They laugh and reminisce. They ride the same wavelength seemingly finishing each other's sentences as they did routinely a few years ago. There are no role barriers separating them, just two pals sharing an afternoon in the sun.

In time a door slides open and a little one happily yells out: "mommy!" A second toddler starts crying because she's hungry. Mom needs to pack the family gear for a trip and there's a pile of laundry that needs to be done. A dog starts barking. Amid the confusion and demands for mom's attention, non-mom sees that it's time to go.

Back at her tidy home, non-mom settles in for a quiet evening. She fixes a spinach salad topped with salmon, pours a glass of wine and looks forward to the day when the differences marking the lives of moms and non-moms don't intrude with such force.

End tape.

While I get just a sliver of attention from my mom friends when their kids are about, I have a lovely assortment of online and real-life non-mom pals who give (and receive) undivided attention, and that's particularly nice because friendships among women are essential for reducing stress, as I was reminded recently by a non-mom friend who sent me an older article based on a UCLA study.

The piece points out that when a woman encounters stress, a hormone (oxytocin) is released and "buffers the fight or flight response and encourages her to gather with other women instead." When engaging in "tending or befriending behavior, studies suggest that more oxytocin is released, which further counters stress and produces a calming effect."

I'm curious, my dear Internets, how much time you spend with mom vs. non-mom friends. Do you see a marked difference in the visits? Let's discuss (and reduce some stress as a bonus!)

Wanted: Carefree Gal Pals

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-04-03T14:54:00Z

Wanted: Carefree, witty, fun-loving females available this weekend (or next) to engage in laid-back goofing around. Cosmos, gin and tonics or wine likely involved.

Requirements: Absolutely no discussions allowed about kids, infertility and the like.

For the first time in like, forever, I have no book writing or editing, my house remodel is finito and the freshly painted, cleaned place is ready for entertaining and I'm a bachelorette. Yes, my DH is heading overseas on a business trip (and a surprise visit to my Irish nephew and niece --- shhhhhh!!!!).

Yes, I know I'm suggesting light-hearted fun on Palm Sunday and Easter weekends (certainly blasphemy or something close to it for those practicing Catholics and other religious types in the crowd), but there you have it.

I have fashion and gossip magazines, an iPod full of great tunes, a lovely patio with chaise lounge chairs in the sun, chick flicks ready for viewing if the weather goes South, and a map to the best spas and shopping in the area.

Who's in?

Plate Smashing, Anyone?

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-03-29T16:49:00Z

Just for the record, I do think about a whole bunch of things that have absolutely nothing to do with broken reproductive systems, but given the charter of this blog ... infertility is what I write about here.

It's not surprising, then, that as I read and contemplate I'm on the lookout for useful blog material. Just this morning I came across this passage in today's New York Times:

"It’s easy to feel that one isn’t working hard enough, that one should try harder ... To rebel publicly, even to engage politically, would mean exposing your own inadequacies, so most people just hunker down and keep plugging away ...

As our shame grows, we shutter ourselves inside. Afraid of acknowledging our anger and unable to join those similarly suffering, we grow distant. Worse, we judge quickly and harshly the actions of others; we devolve into snark, which will never lead to meaningful change.
To restore our social bonds, each one of us must overcome our isolating feelings of embarrassment and humiliation and understand that this is a shared plight. We’ll also have to accept that anger, real anger, has a role to play in producing collective catharsis and fostering healing."

You might be surprised to learn that this was an opinion piece written by a sociology professor from Columbia on today's economic crisis. There are some eerily familiar parallels to the infertility experience here wouldn't you say? Some good food for thought, perhaps?

Now just to prove that I'm about more than my reproductive capacity, I'm off to find the sunscreen. It's a perfect day for a long hike. I'll be back to join in the conversation later my dear Internets.

Updated: During my Sunday hike, I had more time to think about the NYT passage. I firmly believe anger can play an important role in catharsis. If rage is channeled in a way that doesn't cause anyone else harm, the energy from it can get us up off the couch and doing something about overcoming our "plight." Hiding from it and pretending it's not there only causes it to fester or weigh us down. This reminded me of an NPR segment that highlighted a place where people can air out their anger -- where they can seriously break things. The place is called the Smash Shack down in San Diego. Can you imagine if there was a room dedicated to infertility? I'm sure the line would be out the freakin' door.

Hey! Let's go for a virtual plate throwing here! You get to write on the plate the focus of your anger. What would your plate(s) say? The first plate I'd throw would be for Mother Nature cheating women out of their biology...now, you.

* * * *
Update #2: You can also read and comment on my latest Fertility Authority post -- now on the home page: You Know You're on Your Best Behavior When...that talks about "fertile" behaviors that have the potential to drive infertiles mad. Feel free to add to my list.

* * * *
Facebook me (my profile pic is now in the sidebar) and become a fan of Silent Sorority.

Pearls of Wisdom

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-03-25T03:18:00Z

My guy is as soft spoken as they come. Where temperament is concerned we're the textbook example of "opposites attract." If he is a stable atom, I'm a free radical. I push him out of his comfort zone while he keeps me from spinning out of orbit. When I first started this blog I don't know who needed the TUMS more -- me or him. Me for disclosing to the world my deepest thoughts or him for knowing that by association his last name would be forever (or as long as the Internet lasts) tied to the word "infertility."

Little by little over the past 26 months as I regularly released the competing thoughts and emotions from my head, he became one of my most valued readers and editors. And, from time to time, he suggests ideas for blog posts. Tonight while he was off in the gym playing basketball I came home to find this stream of consciousness thought from him in my email:

In response to the "get over it" school of thought, you might point out the difference between "temporal" and "structural" changes in life.

Temporal change can be difficult and painful. Lose a job ... find another. Have to move ... set up house elsewhere. Ultimately, you adjust accordingly and move on.

Structural change is quite different. You lose a loved one. Have a life-changing medical condition. Infertility. It causes fundamental change in your life. You can't get "over it" -- you can only "come to terms with it."

I share this in its raw form for two reasons. Firstly, the men our lives don't have the luxury of dishing with their pals on the most intimate of subjects, but clearly they carry these types of thoughts in their heads (and it both breaks and melts my heart a little to know he feels as deeply about this experience). And secondly, he makes a great point. His thoughts lead me to yet another interesting gem I came across on grieving losses in our lives:

"...reliving memories are normal reactions...Little by little, you should begin to feel better. Eventually, you should begin to focus on resuming relationships and activities. It's not uncommon to initially feel "disloyal" to someone as you start to move on."

Feeling disloyal -- what a total kick in the head that was. It brought to mind another post I wrote a while back about guilt -- A New Childfree Chapter (Guilt Not Included) -- where I acknowledged, one of the biggest difficulties was the fear:

"that by allowing myself to accept a childfree life that it would mean that I didn't work hard enough for my embryos, that I didn't want or love my children, that I had somehow failed them. That my children didn't matter as much as someone else's children."

Even now, I still wrestle with the guilt -- especially on days when grief visits me when I least expect it. I've come to accept that grief will always visit and torture me a bit in the process. It was my dear blogging friend Lady McLeod, who summed it up best again with these words about her own dance with grief:

"...grief is fucking sneaky! It gets you when you are watching mourning doves build a nest outside your window and you burst into tears; when you see a child whose face snatches you back in time as surely as any mechanical time machine and your heart aches to the point you can feel the pieces falling off..."

And this takes me back to my man-child who should be coming in the door momentarily all sweaty and happy from the gym. There are some experiences in life you don't get over, you can only come to terms with them.

Fighting Words

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-03-20T13:33:00Z

Whenever I start wondering if I've said all there is to say on the topic of infertility and the many ways the experience is misunderstood I find more raw material. Two good reasons for writing came at me sideways and, not surprisingly, each wound me up.

Now that there's no longer smoke coming out of my ears, I'd like to talk about them. One came from HARO, an online service media use to reach sources. (I'm a subscriber.) The second came from a woman who finally conceived after struggling with infertility. She contributed a column to Exhale. Both in their own special backhanded way completely dissed women without children after infertility treatments fail.

And if there's one thing that gets my goat, I mean really fries my tomatoes, it's when I feel my little tribe of women -- those without children after infertility has shattered us -- is marginalized or worse, ignored or judged unfairly. What did the offending parties say?

1) "Writing a book on hope for couples with infertility issues. Interviewing women and men on their stories of infertility. Must be a story of hope and you did eventually have a baby. Could be from IUI, IVF, adoption, naturally, etc." (oh, the implications of this! must NOT get wound up again)

2) "I'd found in the related [childfree after infertility] communities that did exist a brand of bitterness that I found tough to swallow. Not every individual, of course, but the overall tone... possibly related to the traits of folks who were able to move on with grace versus those who clung to the pain."

And you're wondering why so touchy, PJ? Let's start with the second one first. "Clung to the pain?" Seriously?? It's laughable that anyone would think feeling such pain is elective. This woman clearly doesn't know she's talking about. Every woman I've ever known in this tribe would like nothing better than to ditch the pain, deep six it permanently and forget it ever existed. Easier said than done I'm afraid. It's taken me longer than I ever expected to work through the bitterness but that's mostly been exacerbated by a society blithely pretending that no pain ever existed or questioning whether the pain was, in fact, legitimate (infertility losses don't "count" dontchaknow).

I had more support and understanding when the neighborhood stray cat we used to feed passed away. With all due respect to Jose Motown (the cat), his passing was sad, but it didn't rock my world. So when someone implies we're responsible for our own suffering and the complex emotions (not to mention the questioning of our identity, purpose, relationships, etc.,) well, that tends to augment the bitterness not sweeten the pot. Our ability to "move on with grace" takes superhuman effort amid the many obstacles in our path. Cut us some slack, please. With a little more compassion we'll get there faster, thank you very much.

And now to the first item. I replied matter of factly to the query this way:

If what you're writing about is hope tied to infertility then you do women and men who rediscover hope after surviving infertility by creating a meaningful life with children as a part of it (being devoted aunts and uncles and mentors) a tremendous disservice. You are also reinforcing the negative stereotype that couples without children have no hope, nor by association, meaning in their lives without being a "mommy" or "daddy." I encourage you to rethink your definition of hope and what it entails where infertility is concerned.

So much ignorance in the world, so little time...

Facebook me and become a fan of Silent Sorority.

In the Company of Women

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-03-17T19:01:00Z

I'm a little amazed at the company I find myself in these days. For example, what do Alexis Stewart and I share in common?

Answer: We're both part of Fertility Authority, where you'll also find my latest column Barren, Not Beaten. Also available on Fertility Authority is a wealth of information that puts women in the driver's seat where their fertility is concerned. Please check it out.

And never accused of being at a loss for words ... you can also find my latest contribution at Exhale. It's a sneak preview of sorts. My column contains the opening paragraphs from chapter one of my long awaited (at least for me, anyway!) book, Silent Sorority. It will finally be available in late April 2009. Much more on my bumpy journey to publication in a future post.

Meanwhile, check out the rest of Exhale's terrific writing and art. You can find out how to contribute from Monica. She has created a welcoming place for women to express their thoughts and emotions through words and images. As I told Monica, she is the conductor in a powerful symphony of voices.

Listen Up, Universe...

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-03-16T14:35:00Z

I interrupt my self-absorbed slog to free myself from infertility's clutches to get a few things off my chest. Feel free to join in...

You see, more than a few of my favorite women in the blogosphere have recently gotten the dreaded BFN -- the Big F#*KING Negative -- following recent IVF and FET procedures. A few others have had BFPs cruelly snatched away in the early days. I don't want to name names without their permission, but suffice to say they are in Taipei, Australia, and scattered throughout North America. They deserve so much better, and it makes me sad and angry to know they're in a world of hurt.

So, listen up Universe (and don't get too far away Mother Nature -- I've got a few choice words for you, too!)

Aren't there some wars you can end? Some bad guys you can mess with? They seem to be everywhere these days. I can point you to a few on Wall Street and then there are the usual suspects...

Look, I know no one ever promised us rose gardens but, really, don't you have better things to do than to torment delightful, smart, hard-working, all-around amazing women who just want to get pregnant and deliver a child they've worked really, REALLY hard to create? They've gone the extra mile and then some. Why are you making this otherwise straight forward process so damned hard to do? If I didn't know any better I'd be convinced you've got some deals worked out with the makers of Kleenex, not to mention those profiting from the whole fertility practice, medicine and paraphernalia supply chain.

Mess with me all you want. I've developed a pretty thick skin and I've got the coping thing well in hand now, but my little sisters, they're just trying to figure all this stuff out and you're being no better than a bully.

And, Mother Nature? Your performance is just plain unacceptable. I know you can do better. You've been behind some pretty marvelous creations. It's not like what's being asked for here is outside the bounds of your day to day operations. Surely you can get with the program. This slacking has got to stop!

In all seriousness, the body blow that comes with a BFN, well, it's nearly impossible to describe or to fully comprehend unless you've lived it. My heart goes out to those trying to make sense of these gut-wrenching results. I wish them strength and peace.

And to those who read this blog, please be mindful of these lovely women. I know it's a hard request to act on. That's because you never know where you'll find them ... but they are among you, quietly making their way through their day to day routines, picking up the pieces and pushing forward.

Interviewed by a Vampire

Pamela Jeanne — 2009-03-10T23:16:00Z

When it comes to choosing entertainment or really good distractions in the form of TV/film, I've got range. I'm as comfortable in front of a classic Masterpiece Theatre or historical mini series (adored John Adams, Band of Brothers, Rome, etc.) as I am watching shows like Mad Men or Jon Stewart's Daily Show, but HBO originals -- now they are hard to beat for thought-provoking looks into society as we don't feel comfortable seeing it.

Editor's Note: This post will make the most sense to those who've tuned into HBOs' True Blood series. For those new to it, here's the plot: Thanks to a Japanese scientist's invention of synthetic blood, vampires have progressed from legendary monsters to fellow citizens overnight. And while humans have supposedly been removed from the menu, many remain apprehensive about these creatures "coming out of the coffin." Religious leaders and government officials around the world have chosen their sides, but in the small Louisiana town of Bon Temps, the jury is still out. Local waitress Sookie Stackhouse however, knows how it feels to be an outcast. "Cursed" with the ability to listen in on people's thoughts, she's also open-minded about the integration of vampires — particularly when it comes to Bill Compton, a handsome 173-year-old living up the road.

Now, pull up a chair as Vampire Bill Compton interviews me. Who knew vampires and infertiles had so much in common!?
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Bill: As you know, I've been dead since the Civil War so coming back to modern society and trying to assimilate into daily life as a vampire among mortals has had its challenges. But you -- an "infertile" ... you seem to share your own assimilation challenges. For our vampire audience, can you describe a few of them?

Pamela Jeanne: Well I imagine for a vampire it gets pretty tedious to hear mortals all day long talking about their list of "things to do before they die" or chatting you up with "it's supposed to be sunny this weekend -- what're your plans?" ... when, ooops ... you're already dead, or the sun isn't exactly a vampire's friend.

Well in the same way, all around me day in and day out I hear people routinely highlighting their fertility, completely oblivious to my infertile circumstances. It's small talk around the water cooler, library, conference room: "You have how many kids again? ...Did you see XXX is due to deliver any day, let me tell you about my last month of pregnancy ... got any recommendations for good daycare?"

Bill: Well, I have an advantage. I'm a little more pasty white than the average mortal and, well, then there are my fangs, which I don't show regularly ... but you, you don't seem to have any obvious defining physical traits, how do people know you're infertile?

Pamela Jeanne: Um, they don't. Unless of course they've stumbled across my blog.

Bill: Let's take a caller -- we've got Dracula on the line

Dracula: Forgive the pun, but what you describe has got to suck! Don't you end up feeling ostracized amid fertiles?

Pamela Jeanne: Of course -- some days are better than others, but like a vampire, we learn to make adjustments. You know, the infertile equivalent of jumping into the coffin -- sometime it's absolutely necessary to protect yourself from the equivalent of silver, crosses, garlic, you know.

Bill: Is there an advantage to organizing? You know we have the American Vampire League ...

Pamela Jeanne: There's one big difference in our perception battles. You see, mortals fear death and or being attacked by a vampire. They have no choice but to consider your existence and adapt to your being part of society. Fertiles, though, have no incentive to consider what life might be like as an infertile. What we -- vampires and infertiles -- both desire is respect and recognition for the different sorts of, well, challenges we face. We both can't help but have a different view on the world since there will be no progeny from either of us.

For now anyway, infertiles simply have to suck it up -- sorry bad choice of words -- and work to assimilate in a society that doesn't give much, if any, thought to how it is for us to exist.

Bill: Anything else you'd like to add to your audience of fellow "outcasts"?

Pamela Jeanne: Yeah, I heard one other interesting example that ties vampires and infertiles closer together. Charlie Gibson, the anchor of ABC World News, casually mentioned in an intro to a segment those "blessed with children" ... so taking his logic a step further, what he seems to be implying is that infertiles -- like Vampires --are damned, no? Just another one of the weird little ways that society places a higher values on fertiles vs infertiles.

Bill: Let's throw it open to your readers. Next question?? Comments??