The Accidental Typist

Grandpa Dan's Speech at Asher's Bris

2013-05-13T15:45:00.000-04:00

Counting the Omer is one of the simplest of all mitzvot. All one has to do, after all, is simply notice and remember that today is not yesterday, and to say a simple brachah marking the uniqueness of the day and the number that signifies it. And yet, the Torah commands this mitzvah with a certain ambiguity.

U’sphartem mi mocharat hashabbat: You shall count beginning from the day after the Sabbath. Which Sabbath? ShabbatChol Hamoed Sukkot? The first day of the Chag haPesach? Or perhaps the last day of Chag HaPesach? In ancient times all of these were considered viable possibilities, by different sects within the Jewish community. This of course, was highly problematic, because it meant ending the Sephirah and observing Shavuot on different days. The Rabbis, of course, teach us the text means from the day after Pesach begins, meaning that we count from the second seder. Still, the text is not clear. Why use the words, mimocharat hashabbat- from the day after the Sabbath? Why not be more straight forward?

The Birkat Avraham, who was the Slonimer Rebbe of the early 20^th century, teaches us that the Torah‘s message is that the omer has both the quality of a Chag and of Shabbat: Like a Chag, it needs preparation and attention. L’chatchila, the awe that we feel on the night of Seder- the gilui Shechina, the revelation of God’s presence, should be sustained through the 49 days of the sephirah, so that we are truly ready to receive God’s revelation at Sinai, on Shavuot. In reality, however, our attention often lags. We forget the intensity of Yitziat Mitraim that we felt on Pesach, and sometimes, we even forget to count, and a day flies by without us noticing its awesome uniqueness.

And here, he teaches, is why the Torah says mimocharat hashabbat- to teach us that the sephirah also has the quality of Shabbat- each day is a freely given gift from God, even if we have drifted in attention from the level of intensity and awe with which we began the count. It’s really a teaching about our lives. We are easily distracted by mundane concerns. Things just get in the way. But when we notice the holiness just under the surface of things, we can remember, and wake up to it.

When a baby is born, we count his progress and growth day by precious day. Even when parents are reeling from sleepless nights, they are intensely aware of the precious miracle that the now hold in their care. They are in awe, and, moment to moment, the presence of a newborn is a kind of gilui shechina, a revelation of the Divine Presence. Yet, eventually, we count by weeks, instead of days. And weeks will turn into months.

But the love that we feel for that child always contains within it the awe that was present at the beginning. It is a revelation.

When our farmer ancestors counted the omer, they watched and noted each day with a sense of trepidation, hoping that the spring crops which began with so much promise would reach their fullness, so that they could be harvested at Shavuot. Asher, from the day you were born, we watched and counted every day, every hour, with awe in the miracle of your presence, and concern over your early arrival. But here you are, at your bris. And the counting of days has turned into weeks, and will eventually turn into months and years. May you always hold within you the precious sense of miracle that was present from the very first day of your life, and may the years of your life be filled with love and wisdom, of Torah, and of Gilui Shechina, an awareness of God’s presence in your life. Asher, your parents both possess a grit and determination, a stubbornness, if you will, without which we would not have reached this day. May you inherit your parents' determination and steadfastness, and may you be blessed to see your dreams fulfilled.

An Infertile Review: UP

2013-04-27T21:31:00.000-04:00

When Life Gives You Infertility, Make Your House Fly: Found Family in UP

Cross Posted to Bitch Flicks

Carl and Ellie

Pixar’s UP begins with young Carl, an adventure admiring, imaginative boy, meeting his match in young Ellie. The two hit it off instantly with their shared interest in everything adventure, and the first eleven and half minutes are an ode to their lifelong mutual devotion to one another. They become fast friends, they fall in love, marry, and build a life together. The only thing missing? After Ellie suffers a miscarriage, the two are immeasurably saddened by the loss of this baby. In an attempt to fill the void, Carl establishes an “Adventure Fund,” so that together they may one day be able to live what they always dreamed. However, with each passing year, comes a new obstacle, requiring them to deplete their funds over and over again. Until, one day, Ellie, old and weak, dies. And Carl is left alone with sadness and regret at not giving Ellie her big adventure. When I saw UP in the theatre, I was sitting next to my husband, a man I met when I was 14, became best friends with, married, and was now going through infertility treatments with. So, this intro hit pretty close to home.

As I see it, the two infertility themes in this story are miscarriage, and living childfree. Despite my vast experience with infertility, I am not personally familiar with either of these. I have, thankfully, never had a miscarriage (although during one very painful episode of endometrial bleeding, my husband and I were sure that I was in the midst of one), and thanks to IVF, I now have two sons. I can tell you that the first theme, miscarriage, is shown in only seconds, and it is a scene that will remain with you throughout the entire film. That in thirty seconds, this animated family film is able to portray the loss in such a visceral way that even if you have never had an experience like it, you will be brought to tears. And I can tell you that the second theme, living childfree, is complicated and filled with mixed emotions. Carl, tormented by his inability to give his wife what she wanted, finally realizes by the end of the film that Ellie’s life with him was her adventure, and that she was happy with it. Many couples must make the difficult decision – whether to keep trying, to continue fertility treatments, to hope that the next cycle works, that the next pregnancy sticks, to attempt adoption, or to somehow find a way to come to terms with a life without children. Some couples make this decision. But for some, the decision is made for them.

Carl and Ellie preparing the nursery

The question is what to do once that decision has been made. Once an infertile couple mourns the loss of a life with children and finds peace with their new reality, can the void ever be filled by something or someone else? Ellie, as we learn, was happy and satisfied with the life she lived with Carl. But once Ellie died, Carl was left alone. No children. Just memories and unfounded regret. Until he meets Russell. Russell reminds Carl of the boy he once was, and of the girl he married. He reminds him of the family he wanted with Ellie, and of the adventures they’d hoped to go on. Some view Russell as the child that Carl never had. In fact, we find out that Russell himself has an absent father, so Russell was searching for a father just as much as Carl was searching for a son. But I don’t see it in those terms. Russell is a friend, he is a companion, he is a playmate. Russell is Carl’s family. Because we don’t always get to live the life that we had planned. But we do get to choose a great many of things. We can choose to keep on fighting for what we want. Or we can choose to make peace with the lives that we have. And, most importantly, we can choose our family, even if we can’t create them ourselves.

An Infertile Review: Juno

2013-04-22T20:07:00.000-04:00

Cross Posted at Bitch Flicks

Vanessa Loring: Pathetic or Plausible? A Matter of Perception.

Vanessa and Mark meet Juno

The first few times that I saw Juno, I was unaware of any of my fertility problems. It wasn’t until April 2010, in between IVF cycles and laparoscopies, that I re-watched the film with some friends, and I viewed it through a new lens. It is a strange phenomenon how a changed circumstance in life can create an entirely different vision of the world. Or, more simply, of a film. The obvious themes of teen pregnancy – the ease and cavalier nature of it, so unplanned, so unexpected, so unwanted – resonated with me again while re-watching Juno. But I felt oddly that they were treated with respect. It was acknowledged that however intelligent a typical teenaged girl thinks she is; however witty and wise; however smart-assed and independent; she never quite is as smart as she thinks she is. There is still a big world, and she’s just one small person. And in this movie, at least the title character is wise enough to know that while she may not be ready to be a mother, there are those out there who would suffer unimaginable things to trade positions with her.

What really hit me was Jennifer Garner’s character, Vanessa. In past viewings of the movie, the hopeful adoptive mother seemed somewhat desperate. Her overly enthusiastic smile. The fact that Juno’s snarky remarks would fly past her with barely any recognition. Her obsessive questioning and controlling perfectionism. When saying goodbye after meeting for the first time, Vanessa asks Juno how likely she is to go through with the adoption, and Juno says, nonchalantly, that she is going to do it. “How sure would you say you are? Like, would you say you’re 80% sure, or 90% sure?” Vanessa pushes. She was more than desperate, really. She was pathetic. She seemed to be written for the purpose of added comic relief. But as my friends laughed at her on screen, I felt sad, and angry. Maybe she is desperate, but anyone who has even considered adoption knows that it goes wrong far more often than it goes right. That Vanessa’s pushing wasn’t pathetic, but rather telling the story of a woman who has already been hurt so much. And wouldn’t you be desperate if you dreamed of being a mother your whole life, and then after trying for years to conceive was finally told that it was an impossibility? If you came so close to adopting a child, only for the birth mother to change her mind?

Earlier in the same scene, when Juno first meets Vanessa, Juno expresses that she’s concerned about when she will have to add elastics to her pants. Vanessa says, “I think pregnancy is beautiful.” And Juno responds, “You’re lucky it’s not you.” And I twinge right along with Vanessa. I knew exactly how she felt – we would take elastic pants for the rest of our lives in exchange for that pregnancy. I knew completely this character, and suddenly wondered if she was written to be laughed at, or if the writer too had a deep understanding of the heartbreak of infertility. This character was written beautifully, because she was real. Perhaps she was meant to have these two vastly different interpretations. One for those who don’t understand, and one for those who do. Well, that last time around, I felt her heartbreak. I knew what it was like to alter my personality in an attempt to deal with my new reality. To dream and have those dreams crushed. But to keep on dreaming anyway. I understood. If I take issue with her portrayal at all, it is only that I wish my pre-infertile self – the naïve and happy, baby-dreaming me – would also have known Vanessa for who she was, and not have seen her as a pathetic and comical character.

My Name is Asher Avior

2013-04-14T14:56:00.000-04:00

(Bris Speeches)

Talia and Asher 4/14/13

GABRIEL:

Thank you all for coming here today to celebrate Asher Avior with us. The journey to this day has been longer and more challenging than usual, but we are so thrilled to finally be here.

We wanted to take this moment, before explaining his name, to thank a lot of people. We first of all want to thank everyone at Anshe Chesed for all of the support and help that they have offered. Three weeks of dinners, driving Talia to the hospital, babysitting, and even providing us with a Pesach seder at the last minute. There are too many of you to mention by name, but you should all know how grateful we are to you. Abraham Joshua Heschel once said, “A religious man is a person who holds God and man in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair.” We are certainly blessed to belong to a community filled with such men and women.

We also deeply thank our family, who has gone out of their way to help us, even from afar. Whether it was taking Ezra for a weekend, coming here and grocery shopping for us, donating blood for Asher’s transfusion, or shepherding Talia to the hospital and on errands, we greatly appreciate all that our siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins did to help us in a trying time. But most of all, we want to thank our parents. You have done all of the above and more. We may have survived the last 2 months without you, but it would have been much more difficult! Thank you, and we love you very much.

Talia, I just wanted to say a few words to you. And I had thought that you had to go through too much with Ezra. For those of you who don’t read Talia’s blog, here are some of the major events. Losing over 1/3 her blood, starting the c-section without anesthesia, and of course being a brave NICU mother for almost 2 months. Your strength astounds me, your courage inspires me, and our 2 boys are the luckiest to have you as a mother.

TALIA:

Asher is Hebrew, meaning Happy. Which is apropos, as he has already brought us much happiness. Of course, if this was the criteria for naming our children, then we also could have gone with a name meaning Worry or Sleepless Nights. But instead we went with Asher, mostly because it sounded better.

Asher has already proven to be a strong boy. And at 10 weeks old, he is 235% of his birth weight, so we know that he is a good eater. And we know that he is patient, but only to a point. But Asher is still 9 days from his due date, so there is little that we actually know about who he really is, no less the man he will one day become. His name, then, is our hope for him. Our hope that he lives the life of his choosing, and that he finds happiness and satisfaction in all of his life choices.

Asher’s middle name Avior was given for his great great grandparents, Grandma Helen and Grandpa Abe. I was very blessed to have my great grandparents in my life for as long as I did. I know that it is a rare and valuable gift. For Abe (or Abram, Hebrew Avram), we chose Avi. And for Helen, of Greek origin meaning Shining Light, we chose Or, Hebrew for light.

Growing up, my great-grandparents were always a presence. They lived in Florida for most of my life, and my family took yearly trips to vacation in Plantation and Palm Beach to visit “Grandma and Grandpa.” They were lively and kind people. My grandfather, the first in his family to graduate from college, was still playing tennis well into his nineties. My grandmother, so loving a person, left behind grandchildren who would later argue over which one was her favorite. She made each and every one feel so loved and so special that my mother and her 3 siblings all genuinely believed they were the favored.

“The first time I met your great-grandfather,” Grandma would begin with a smile on her face, “I was seventeen years old and he was nineteen.” I was eight the first time I heard the story. “I was at my girlfriend’s house for a sweet sixteen birthday party and we were playing Spin-the-Bottle.” She blushed slightly, remembering what I could not understand. “He spun the bottle and it landed on me. We kissed the first time we met.” In a later story she would explain how they didn’t speak much after that evening – they hardly knew each other, really, but they would meet up with each other a few years later. “He rode a bus all the way from the city every night just to court me,” she said proudly. At eight years old I didn’t know what it meant to court someone, but I did know that my grandma and grandpa were something special.

When Grandpa died, my great-grandmother was devastated. He was ninety-seven years old and lived one hell of a life. But he was gone from hers. “The first time I met Abe,” Grandma began as I sat with her two months after the funeral, “I was seventeen years old. He was just nineteen.” She sat with a tear in her eye. “He was so handsome then,” she remembered. I was seventeen when I heard the story for the last time of how my great-grandparents met, and I thought about which story I would tell my great-grandchildren. All of them, I decided. Starting with Grandma and Grandpa’s. Two days after my great-grandfather’s unveiling, a year and a half after his passing, my Grandma died at the age of ninety-five. They were married for seventy-two years. Together, they lived one hell of a life and they lived to see so many of their offspring – two children, seven grandchildren, sixteen great-grandchildren. And now, in the name Avior, they will forever be together.

I wish that my children could have met Grandpa Abe and Grandma Helen, because I know how special they were, and how lucky that made me. But since they could not meet them, my hope is that they grow to be like them. People who value education, cherish family, and are loving, caring, and thoughtful human beings.

**It has been brought to my attention that certain ages may be incorrect.

Car Seat Challenge

2013-03-24T22:42:00.001-04:00

You might think this is some form of a summer camp obstacle course dare: Whomever can ride a bicycle from one point to another, with a doll buckled into a car seat that is mounted between the handles of the bike, without causing any harm to said doll, wins the Car Seat Challenge!

Car Seat Challenge, March 22, 2013

But, alas, the car seat challenge is merely a meager test in which Peanut must sit in his car seat for an hour and a half without any episodes of oxygen desaturation (or, to be precise, without three or more consecutive episodes below a certain number). In preparation for discharge, the Doctor ordered Peanut's car seat test last week. Peanut already escaped the need for surgery when his hernia inexplicably disappeared. So, on Friday, Peanut went into the car seat looking like a champ, like he might actually be able to get onto that fictitious bicycle if he wanted to (well, okay, at least in the car seat on the bicycle). Sadly, however, he failed this challenge. That's right, all the little guy had to do was sit in a car seat and breathe normally. No SAT reading comprehension. No LSAT logic problems. Not even some basic algebra. Just lay back and breathe. Poor little man.

When a baby fails the challenge, he must wait 3 days before attempting the feat again. Well, that brings us to tomorrow morning.

Will Peanut have his own Exodus right in time for Passover?

The Match of a Lifetime, Round 2: Peanut vs. the Car Seat

Monday, March 25th

Wish us all luck!

Blood Transfusion

2013-03-13T22:59:00.001-04:00

A Brief Update

March 8, 2013

Little Man was moved to the step-down room on Saturday. He is taking half of his feedings by bottle (and still tubing the rest), and he is continuing to gain weight really well. We are very pleased about all of that. The nurses have been pushing for him to have the blood transfusion for a couple of weeks, and the doctor decided today that he needed it. He was anemic and was having too many episodes of apnea/bradycardia/desaturation. So he had his transfusion this afternoon (HUGE shout out to his great-Uncles Bill and Steve for being his donor). We are really hopeful that this will help him and make a significant difference. Of course, it also comes with likely setbacks, as the body often stops producing red blood cells on its own when it realizes that it can be given them for free. Hopefully, though, this will all resolve itself pretty fast.

March 7, 2013

March 5, 2013

Running Picture Album: https://plus.google.com/photos/103259108749622540628/albums/5841939289365954881?authkey=CJ7Fj9K01pvHCw

A Peanut Update: 1 Month!

2013-03-02T21:52:00.003-05:00

I know it's been a while since I gave everyone a proper update on Peanut. We are so grateful to everyone for your continued love and support. And we know how blessed Peanut is to already have so many people who care about him.

Weight and Heat

To start with, he is gaining grams like a heavy-weight champ! At his latest weigh-in tonight, he was an amazing 4 1bs 1 oz (that's 1850 grams)! The nurses tell me that usually around 1800 grams, as long as he can retain a good body heat, the baby will be moved from an isolette to an open-air crib. And his body heat has remained stable, even as they have been slowly lowering the heat in his isolette. So that could happen sometime this week.

Anemia and Transfusion

Peanut is also a bit anemic, which was expected for a few reasons. The first is that I had lost so my blood myself. The second is that much of the iron needed to create red blood cells is transferred to the baby from the mother in the third trimester, which I did not have. And lastly, just the fact that his system is immature, it makes the production of red blood cells more difficult. We had several offers of direct blood donors, and we are so grateful to my uncle Steve for donating to Peanut. As of right now, Peanut has not had a blood transfusion, though he is having his blood tested every few days to monitor his anemia. At this point, it could go either way.

Inguinal Hernia

Peanut has a hernia. Again, this is very common with premature babies. This is a concise explanation I found from a wiki site: "While the infant grows in the womb, there is an opening between the abdominal cavity and the scrotum that, if born prematurely, may not entirely close, therefore creating a risk that a small loop of bowel may slip (herniate) through the hole, resulting in an inguinal hernia." So, Peanut will require surgery to correct this. However, this procedure will not be done until closer to his discharge.

Bottle Feeding

A few days ago, we started trying bottle feeding with Peanut. Right now, it is done once a shift (twice a day - day shift and night shift), as we slowly try to get the little guy used to it. It's hard work for him! He has to learn to suck and swallow and breathe at the same time, and he tires out pretty fast. However, he is doing fairly well for a 32-weeker.

March 2, 2013

Oxygen and Lungs

Peanut is still getting oxygen assistance and fairly often will struggle with this, taking fast, shallow breaths. The doctor said that they are going to start focusing on improving this soon. Likely he will require some medication to help him with his lung development, which may cause a slight dip in his weight.

Summary

Obviously, the idea of our baby having surgery is not something that we are thrilled about. But we also realize that Peanut is doing very well and moving along in the right direction. We are thrilled about his awesome weight gain, and we are confident that everything else will work itself out.

Happy One Month to our little baby!

Why We Aren't Telling

2013-02-28T19:36:00.001-05:00

(But Sort of Did)

Since some of you have inquired about Peanut's name, I thought I'd offer a little explanation as to why we are not telling people his real name.

February 24, 2013

It is Jewish tradition to name a baby boy at his brit milah/bris (ritual circumcision). The bris is supposed to occur on the eighth day of a boy's life. However, Peanut's bris has been postponed until after he his home from the hospital and healthy enough for the procedure.

Gaby and I felt that it was important for us emotionally to call Peanut by his real name from the very start. It is hard enough to have a new baby who does not live at home with us, who is primarily in the care of others. It would have made things much more difficult for us had we not been able to use his name when speaking with him, and to each other about him. His existence, his presence, was thus all the more real to us. I know it seems odd to discuss the "realness" of a new baby boy. But this is an odd situation. There are two social workers at the Saint Barnabas NICU, and they have both said that it is normal to feel disengaged and detached from a NICU baby, especially if the parents are not able to spend all day, every day in the hospital.* Sometimes, the beeps, buzzes, and ringing of the NICU, along with the busyness of the nursing staff, can distract us from a connection with our little one. And seeing the other babies can have a jarring effect. Some of them are so much worse off than our little Peanut, and it can be upsetting. And some of them are so much better off than our little Peanut, which in some ways, can also be upsetting. But despite all of this, when I am in the NICU, I feel a strong bond with my baby, especially when I am able to hold him. And I do believe that using his real name has helped me to solidify this bond.

Likewise, we believed that it would be incredibly important for Peanut's doctor and nurses to know his name. To see him not just as another nameless isolette, but as a human baby - a real person. And when his doctor calls me with updates, or sees me in the NICU, and uses Peanut's real name, it is very reassuring.

We have since decided to tell our parents and siblings the name. We have only told people his first name, and we feel comfortable with this decision. His first name is used in both English and Hebrew, so we can easily say it is his English name (even though it will also be his Hebrew name). For the sake of Misheberachs and prayers, everyone therefore continues to use "HaTinok ben Talia Tzila" or the equivalent, since he does not officially have a Hebrew name yet.

His middle name is a Hebrew name chosen for whom he is named after, and we will not divulge it to anyone at all until his bris.

For the Running Album of Peanut Pictures, click on this link:

https://plus.google.com/photos/103259108749622540628/albums/5841939289365954881?authkey=CJ7Fj9K01pvHCw

*Incidentally, the social workers also say that they have never seen a parent not have a strong bond with their child by the time the baby comes home.

NICU: Week One in Review

2013-02-09T19:06:00.000-05:00

Roller coaster, train wreck...Simply put, it's been a tough week. I was discharged from the hospital on Wednesday afternoon, right after being able to hold our new baby for the first time. I find myself crying hysterically at random moments, seemingly set off by nothing in particular, knowing of course that it is not in fact nothing. I know this is normal, and I have no expectations of it stopping anytime soon. But I also find that throughout my life, I have acquired and perfected the skill of putting on a good face. This comes in handy for keeping up the impression that I am a sane person. But it also actually helps keep me sane, since crying all day is not a viable option.

Thursday, February 7, 2013 (5 Days Old)

Coming home to Ezra was wonderful. At first, he seemed confused by my absence and then sudden reappearance. But he seems to be back to normal, and we have tried not to change his routine more than necessary. It is very difficult, though, when he cries and sticks his arms up, begging me to lift him, and I just can't. I am counting down the days when I will be able to.

For those following the Gabriel's mysterious, several-months-long sickness saga, Gaby is still sick. It's been physically rough for him, as he is taking care of both Ezra and me, and as a result not taking enough care of himself. He had an ultrasound on Monday morning and they found that he has an enlarged spleen. Still confounded by his various symptoms, the doctors are now sending him to see a spleen specialist, in the hopes that they will be able to decipher his labs, ultrasounds, and symptoms and come up with an actual answer for us. To add to his problems, someone stole Gaby's laptop (and most beloved possession) on Thursday. Poor Husband.

Peanut is doing pretty well. The doctor had to take out his picc line, because there was an issue with it. They put an IV back instead. They had to move the IV today, since it was causing some swelling at the site. The doctor said Peanut should only be on this IV for another 4 days or so, so there is no point in poking and prodding and risking infection to put in a new picc line.

Peanut also seems to be eating well. Along with the vitamins, nutrients, lipids, etc, they have gradually increased his milk intake (via a feeding tube), and today he is up to 9cc's (ml) every 3 hours. For the second day in a row, he has gained weight, and is currently at 2 lbs 11.7 oz.

A couple of days ago, they switched him from the CPAP over to a high flow nasal cannula, which is a step better (so I am told). Mostly holding steady at around 21% oxygen on the cannula, which is the same as what you and I breathe on our own.

We are hoping that the roads will be clear enough tonight so that we can see him, as I hate the thought of missing a day with him.

We appreciate continued prayers for Peanut, using the name HaTinok ben Talia Tzilah, or "Baby Boy Yarmush." If praying is not your thing, positive thoughts are always welcome.

A Peanut Update

2013-02-06T17:22:00.000-05:00

Today was an emotional day (aren't they all now?). I knew that I would be discharged today, and I had very mixed feelings about it. I was eager to be in my own home, in my own comfort zone. I missed Ezra so much, as I had not seen him in five days, since he went to sleep on Friday night. But I knew it would be difficult to leave the hospital without my new baby. I can no longer logistically see him whenever I want to.

It is a very bizarre reality to have two sons who have no idea of each other's existence, and won't for two months. Two sons who live in different places. Whom I must divide my time between.

But today was also an incredibly special day, as Gabriel and I got to hold our little peanut for the first time. Here you can see pictures of this surreal and beautiful experience (and you can click on the link at the bottom of this post for a running album).

"Kangaroo Care" Bonding

Peanut Fingers and Daddy Fingers

Lounging in Daddy's Arms

Snuggle-Puss

Today's News:

- Peanut had his first head scan, and it came back fine. He will get another one between 7-10 days old.

- His oxygen saturation levels and oxygen intake through CPAP (2 different numbers on 2 different monitors) are both stable and good (considering his preemie status).

- Along with the lipids, vitamins, and other nutrients he is receiving through IVs, Peanut is also taking breast milk through a tube that goes through his mouth into his stomach. He is tolerating it all well. In a couple of days, they will increase his milk intake at feedings.

To view our running picture album, follow the link here:

https://plus.google.com/photos/103259108749622540628/albums/5841939289365954881?authkey=CJ7Fj9K01pvHCw

Nightmares and Blessings

2013-02-04T13:27:00.000-05:00

February 2, 2013 - It's My Birthday!

I have heard from several different sources that vivid dreams are common during pregnancy. So it is sure to me that the clarity and realism of my partum dreams were not unique to me. Nor, I’m sure, was the nature of the dreams. Since my diagnosis of placenta previa, my dreams were in fact closer to nightmares. I would wake convinced that I was drowning in a pool of blood, unable to fall back asleep until I was sure of the baby’s movements inside my belly.

I was not in the midst of one of these dreams, but rather awakened by the need to use the bathroom at 3 o’clock on Saturday morning, when I stood up from my bed and felt the first gush of blood fill my underwear and drip onto the carpet. I reached the toilet, and only continued to lose blood. I screamed out for Gaby, and after awakening our neighbors across the street to solicit them to watch a still-sleeping Ezra, we rushed past several state troopers and through even more red lights to Saint Barnabas Medical Center in Livingston.

They were expecting me upon arrival, and I was immediately hooked up to the appropriate IVs. They gave me a few medications - to slow contractions that I was having, to protect the baby’s brain and to boost lung function in the baby, in case of premature delivery. The nurses and doctors were incredibly attentive. The bleeding was under control, and it seemed likely that they would hold me for three days, and then release me to full bed rest at home. At this point, back at home, by mother had arranged for my aunt and grandmother to come to the house and be on Ezra duty. However, they had to leave shortly, so Gaby left the hospital at around 3:20pm to go relieve them. At around 3:35, while throwing up from a reaction to the magnesium I was on, I began once again to hemorrhage blood. They rushed me into an operating room for an immediate and emergency c-section.

Because of the urgency, they had to make the incision in my abdomen before they were able to get me under general anesthesia. So, they made the cut, and I screamed through it, and then I was out from the anesthesia moments later. (As a side note – my mother said that after speaking with some doctor friends, they said that I was actually able to be awake for the incision due to the fact that I lost so much blood, and my brain couldn’t fully process the pain.)

At 3:40 on Saturday afternoon, one minute before they pulled the little peanut out of me, Gaby was called and told that I went in for the emergency c-section. So, sadly, we both missed the actual birth. Although it’s disappointing, it is hardly something that we are dwelling on, considering everything.

The baby weighed 3 pounds, and I’m told that he cried on his own when he entered the world.

The doctors told me that I lost nearly a third of my blood. I was given a blood transfusion, and was closely monitored. I could not see the peanut until late that night, when I received special permission to have my bed wheeled in to the NICU.

I feel so lucky and blessed that we were in this amazing hospital when the second hemorrhage occurred. And I am so grateful to the nurses and doctors at Saint Barnabas, who I know saved both my life and my baby’s life. Peanut is expected to remain in the NICU here for around 8 weeks, at which point he will hopefully have reached the 5 pound mark. The NICU here is one of the best in the country, and although we know it will be a long haul, we are very optimistic.

We cannot stress enough how appreciative we are of all of the love and support we have been receiving. We are so thankful for our family, friends, and truly amazing communities. I know that people want to stay connected, so I will continue to blog with updates (though I cannot promise daily posts). Thank you again to everyone, and please continue to keep our sweet little boy in your thoughts and prayers.

Bill Bans US Citizens from Adopting in Russia

2012-12-28T14:47:00.001-05:00

For years, Russians have complained about Americans adopting Russian children. They have said that Americans get priority in Russian adoptions, over Russians. They have cited instances of abuse and neglect of adopted Russian babies by their American parents. Some of these instances are true (Dima Yakovlev died after being left in the boiling hot car by his adoptive American father, who was acquitted of involuntary manslaughter; Artyom Saveliev, 7 years old, is sent back to Russia, by himself, with a note explaining that he was violent and has psychopathic tendencies; Alex Pavlis was beaten to death by his adoptive mother, who was convicted of involuntary manslaughter; Denis Uritsky was starved to death by his Maryland parents; and the list, tragically, goes on and on). And some are rumor and conjecture.

Today, the Dima Yakovlev Bill (named for Dima Yakovlev, above) was signed by Vladamir Putin, after passing by an overwhelming vote in both the State Duma and the Federation Council. This law bans United States citizens from adopting Russian children. According to the US State Department, Americans accounted for almost 1,000 Russian adoptions last year alone. This action comes on the heels of a law signed by President Obama that calls for sanctions against Russians deemed human rights violators, and is thought by many to be a political response to Obama, as opposed to a concern over the well-being of adopted Russian children.

While many in Russia favor this new law, there in outrage by many others who claim that foreign adoption (and specifically American adoption) is the only hope for many of the children living dismal lives in Russian orphanages. This new law, in effect as of January 1, 2013, will personally affect 52 children in the middle of adoption proceedings with American families. These children will have to remain in Russia.

Responses that I have heard and read range from calling Putin a despot, and claiming that those who voted for the bill should be required to adopt or care for the 52 children whose dreams have now been crushed, to praising the bill saying that Americans should be taking care of their own first, and adopting within America anyways (of course, this does not take into account how much more difficult it is to adopt in American than in most other countries, including Russia).

Do you have any thoughts? Please comment below!

Complete Placenta Previa Completely Sucks

2012-12-11T20:08:00.000-05:00

I met with my OB today. He reiterated most of what Gabriel and I had been told yesterday. He said that I will likely be scheduled for a c-section around 37 weeks, which is the first week of April. However, the c-section won't be scheduled until later in the pregnancy. I will require more monitoring now that I am high risk, but he also reassured me that any severe incidents are unlikely to occur.

I told him that we are planning on flying to Israel on Sunday. And he said that I can't go. Basically, he said that the chances of bleeding is very unlikely, but that if I was to start serious bleeding while in the air (and especially over the ocean), it could be fatal to both the baby and to me. So, ultimately we could disregard his advice, but why risk it? I mean, I know why risk it. Because I want so desperately to see my little brother, and for Ezra to play with his uncle. Because I want all of my and Gabe's Israeli family to meet Ezra. Because we got super cheap tickets and could actually afford to go, and when will that ever happen again in the next few years? Because I miss Israel. But ultimately, none of these reasons are worth the threat of losing this baby, or even worse.

And so, we are staying.

Any great stay-cation ideas? I could use some.

2nd Trimester Screening, or, I Still Love You, Ezra!

2012-12-10T12:49:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I am officially 21 weeks pregnant. Today, Gabe and I went to the hospital for our nifty 3D 2nd trimester screening ultrasound. We saw everything there was so see of our baby - from tiny toes to thumping ventricles. It was awesome, in the true definition of the word. We found out that Ezra is having a baby brother! If my scheming all comes to fruition, they will be best friends! The baby (henceforth to be referred to as "Rupert") is perfect and healthy.*

Perfect Little Rupert

We also learned today that I have what is called Placenta Previa. This is when the placenta is covering the cervix. There are three levels of attachment: Marginal Previa, Partial Previa, and Complete Previa. I have Complete Previa. This means that the cervical opening is completely covered by the placenta. When looking at the ultrasound screen, it was difficult for the untrained eye to even tell the difference between my placenta and my cervix.

So, what does this mean? In many placenta previa cases, the placenta will slowly, throughout the pregnancy, move away from the cervix, migrating north in the uterus. The doctors feel that in my situation this is very unlikely. The worries with placenta previa are that any tear of the placenta from the cervix or uterine wall can cause bleeding, and that even without the bleeding, the exit door for the baby is completely blocked by the placenta. So, this means a few practical things for me. Firstly, it means that I will almost definitely have a scheduled c-section a few weeks before my due date, in order to avoid the risk of going into labor and causing serious bleeding. It also means that in the meantime, in an effort to avoid any tearing, I am barred from many activities (exercising, lifting anything heavy, any vaginal exams, etc). Most importantly, this means I can't lift Ezra. I have NO idea how that is going to happen. It's been only a few hours and that directive is already seemingly excruciating.

I have had no bleeding in this pregnancy, and my doctors have lots of reason to believe that I will reach my c-section date without incident. I will meet with my OB tomorrow for further details. Any questions you think I should ask? Please comment below.

*In utero, Ezra was referred to as "Harlan." Extra credit for posting in the comments why each "fetus name" was chosen.

Holy Jackpot, Batman!

2012-11-28T14:07:00.002-05:00

The estimated jackpot for the Powerball is currently up to $550 million. Gabriel and I (like many others, I'm sure), tend to fantasize about what we would do if we won the lottery. What big purchases would we make; what family vacations would we go on; how much would we put aside in trusts for our children; etc. We would fly our entire family to Israel for Passover. We would take a trip around the world and bring a full-time nanny with us. And we know that at least 10% of our winnings will go directly to charity. So, my question to you is, if you had millions to donate to the charities of your choice, which ones would you choose?

Besides donations to your alma maters and local house of worship, what charities or causes would top your list?

Some Good News

2012-11-27T19:05:00.001-05:00

I heard some truly wonderful news this weekend, that I just can't stop thinking about. Dear friends of ours, who had their first gorgeous child with the help of assisted reproductive technology, announced that they are pregnant again. This time, it happened without any assistance. Those of us who have struggled with infertility have heard this lore before, and usually we receive it with disbelief, because it could never happen to us. And for some of us, this is true - we will never get pregnant without the expertise of the medical profession. But when we see it happen firsthand to loved ones, it fills us with renewed hope. More than anything, though, I am just so thrilled for this couple - who deserve nothing but happiness out of life.

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)

2012-10-30T11:01:00.000-04:00

November is National Novel Writing Month. There is a website and very active community dedicated to helping each other complete the first draft of a novel during this month. I only recently stumbled upon this site, which people have been on for months, preparing plots and character outlines. November is a busy month for me - I have seven students to tutor weekly, I teach, I will be back home in Boston for Thankgsiving, and Ezra will be celebrating his first birthday. But every month is busy, really. So naturally, I signed up!
This is going to be a serious challenge for me, and not just because of the other commitments in my life. The first piece of advice the site gave me when I joined was 'don't edit - that's what December is for.' I am a natural editor. I won't post a Facebook status until I've edited it. Write an entire novel without editing? I'm fairly certain this will be my Achilles heel.
The second piece of advice I was given was to tell the world that I will be participating in NaNoWriMo. That way, you can all encourage me along the way. And, maybe even more importantly, I will feel shamed and embarrassed if I don't do it.
The goal on the site is 50,000 words in one month. So, if anyone is up for any Word Wars (I can pretty much guarantee that you will win!) or Word Sprints, I'd be thrilled with the help. The truth is, though, if I can write 25,000 new words in the month of November (considering my predilection for editing), I would consider it a success.
Anyone else signed up for NaNoWriMo? I could use some writing buddies!

Eating for (Just) Two

2012-08-22T19:40:00.000-04:00

Gabe and I went in this morning to see the gestational sac growing in my tummy (yes, that's the proper medical term). It is growing nicely and looks healthy. We could see the yolk sac within it. It's pretty neat to get to see this, as most people don't even know they are pregnant at this stage. But the truth is, it was a little anticlimactic. It just looks like a black circle. If I'm being honest, I was a little disappointed that there was only one. I sort of wish that embryos could be tagged so that I could know which one in my picture is the one that stuck. There is no way to know why the other embryo didn't stick (perhaps this one isn't a sharer?). But it would have been nice to be done with all of this. To not have to worry about putting together the finances for another cycle, when the time comes. I feel a little greedy having these thoughts, because I know that one is amazing - that I had to go through so much to get here, that Ezra will be a big brother, and we are really so thrilled. It's still hard to give up the fantasy. I became attached to that little embryo, which has since dissolved or washed out of my body. Alas, it's time to get over it, move on, and just be so happy (and tired, and sick...) that I am pregnant!

My Embaby (Gestational Sac with Yolk Sac)

Movie Reviewing

2012-08-20T17:09:00.000-04:00

Dear Readers,
As you know, I am an avid film and TV watcher. With a little push from my super intelligent husband, I've decided to begin reviewing movies (and occasionally TV shows) for my blog. The films I review will all have some infertility related content. If there are movies that you think I should review, please let me know in the comment section of this post.
Thank you so much,
Talia

To Everything There is a Season, and a Time to Every Purpose Under Heaven

2012-08-15T12:53:00.000-04:00

	a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
	a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
	a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
	a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
	a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
	a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
	a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. - Ecclesiastes/Kohelet 3-8

This is one of my favorite Biblical passages. Because even though I don't actually believe in God's active hand in our every day lives, I do believe that there is a purpose to everything. Maybe not a good one. Maybe not one that we like. But with or without God, the world is kept moving by everything within it. Societal expectations and norms, politics, beliefs, health, and everything else that makes up this world, dictate that there is a time for everything. The good, the bad, the unexpected are all part of this world and its laws. There are things we can do to move up or push back these occurrences, but in the end, there is a time for them all.

First, some background. Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (or hCG) is the pregnancy hormone. The blood test that tests for the existence of this hormone is called the beta test. Most clinics have patients come in twice for beta testing - the second time two days after the first, to confirm the results of the first, and, if positive, to make sure the beta numbers are rising and that all hormone levels look normal.

So my first beta test was Monday. The six hours between 7am when I gave blood, and 1pm when I got the phone call, were brutal. Even when you POAS ahead of time, you don't know with a certainty. It could be a false response. Or, if it was positive, it could have been a chemical pregnancy (which is essentially a VERY early miscarriage that only people using Assisted Reproductive Technology ever know about, because they are the only people who test this early). Incidentally, very low beta numbers, or dropping beta numbers, could also be indicators of a chemical pregnancy, which is another reason to go back for a second beta.

But then the call came, from my nurse Adrienne. I could hear the good news even in her "Hi Talia, how are you?" And then, of course, came "You are pregnant!" Today's test confirmed the results, and showed that the beta numbers and hormone levels are all very healthy.

So yeah, I peed. This is from Friday, August 10th.

We are obviously thrilled with the news. We also know that this announcement comes more than 2 months before most people usually announce their pregnancies. We are waiting with bated breaths until our first ultrasound next Wednesday. And we will be extra cautious for the next few months. Hoping for continued good news, health, and happiness for us and all of you!

For those of you still waiting for your happy news, just remember that the time will come. It must. There is a time to be born and a time to plant, and you will reach it.

To Pee or Not to Pee

2012-08-10T11:07:00.000-04:00

That is the Question

A Very Faint Line, 14dpHCG / 7dp5dt from cycle #3 (EZRA, NOT THIS CYCLE)

Home pregnancy testing, or peeing on a stick (POAS) as we in-the-know call it, is actually a bit of a science in itself. The hormone in the urine that shows up on the stick for a positive pregnancy is called the hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin). This is the same hormone that I gave myself a double shot of in my bruised tummy 36 hours before my egg retrieval (called the trigger shot, because it triggers ovulation). So, if I test too soon, I will get a false positive from the drug still being in my system. But if I test at the wrong time, there is also a strong chance of a false negative, since there is a down time after the hormone from my shot disappears, and before the hormone from a pregnancy will show up. Avoiding a false reading is very important for obvious emotional reasons. Some people test every day from a given time after transfer, and that way they can see definitively whether or not they are pregnant, without risking false hope or despair. During my first two cycles, I never seriously considered POAS. I think this is because I felt pretty certain that my cycles were unsuccessful and that I was not pregnant. But something changed in my 3rd cycle. My body felt different. I felt different. I thought, for sure, I was pregnant. And I wanted to know right away. Experts agree that the hCG hormone stays in the system for 8-10 days after the trigger shot. In fact, it is super unlikely to get an accurate test result until 11 days after the trigger shot is given. This means don't test until at least 4 days post a Day 5 transfer (4dp5dt) or 6 days post a Day 3 transfer (6dp3dt). Last cycle, the only time I actually tested, I was 11 days post hCG, and 6dp5dt, and I got a very faint positive. The next day, I got a stronger one. So, in order to save myself from a self-induced heart attack, I would not test myself until 5 or 6 days after my Day 6 transfer.

Well, today is that day for me. So the question is, if this cycle didn't work, if life is about to get a little more complicated and a lot sadder, do I want to delay the inevitable for just a few days longer, or do I want to pull off the bandaid now? Or, what if it worked? What if I am pregnant? What if Ezra is going to be a big brother? Don't I want that information right away?

So, here I am. To pee, or not to pee, that is indeed the question...

Transfer Complete

2012-08-05T18:28:00.000-04:00

We were at the clinic at 6:45 this morning for my embryo transfer. We had no news since Wednesday, and weren't told ahead of time how many embryos there were left, just that we were on for the transfer.

When the doctor came in to speak to us, he showed us our 2 beautiful embies for transfer today! One of them already began hatching - which is why it looks so much larger and different than the other one. The doctor said that given another couple of hours, and the other would be hatched as well. Both are great. So this is very good news.

My 2 Embies

Bed rest and soapy TV all day, and now begins the Two Week Wait (2WW), which is what we term the seemingly endless wait until I can test for the pregnancy hormone.

Retrieval and Fertilization Report

2012-07-31T21:41:00.001-04:00

My egg retrieval was Monday morning. We went in at 8:30. I had to go under general anasthesia for the procedure. And then we were out at 12. We had an amazing number - 20 eggs retrieved! That's huge. You may recall, though, that last time, after 18 were retrieved, only 7 were successfully fertilized, and on day 5, only 1 was left living. Still, yesterday was all about grogginess, cramping, and optimism.
Then, I got the call from the nurse today with the fertilization report. Four embryos. Out of 20 eggs, only 4 fertilized. That's a pretty huge drop. Not good. So, optimism is gone, replaced by a pit in my stomach. I'm trying to force myself to think positively, because part of me knows that it could help....and also because there still is a chance that things will work out. But in reality, I'm feeling kind of devastated.
Now I just have to trust that the embryologists know what they are doing (which I do know to be true), and that at least one of my four little embies is strong and healthy enough for my transfer on Sunday. Desperately hoping that one of those mass of cells is my baby.
This is that time that I just want to curl up in bed, gorge on Ben & Jerry's (AmeriCone Dream, Late Night Snack, Coffee Heath Bar Brunch, doesn't matter), and watch Veronica Mars all day long.
Thanks to everyone for your continued love and support.

UPDATE: My nurse called me this morning and said that one more embryo fertilized over night, so now I have a total of 5. Still not amazing, but at least it's in the right direction. Now they won't update me until Saturday when they call to let me know if I'm coming in on Sunday for my transfer. Even if I do get scheduled for a Day 6 transfer, I still won't know how many embryos are still living until I show up there.
I also have a mild case of OHSS (ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome). Not a bad case, so I don't need to go to the hospital. It mostly means that I still have bad cramps and am still really bloated from the meds and the oversized ovaries (possibly with some additional fluids floating around as well).

When Hope Sinks

2012-07-29T17:40:00.000-04:00

As I prepare for my retrieval tomorrow, I have a piece of advice for those starting out: Think positively, but also realistically. So much of the infertility game is a balancing act, and this is just one more way. Be hopeful. But not too hopeful. Having a good attitude helps you relax and keep sane. But it can also make the fall so much harder.

When I was first diagnosed with endometriosis, I was so relieved. I had a diagnosis. We created a game plan. I was set. On my way to finally making a baby. In my mind, it was simple. The doctor gives me the medication, I have my blood tested daily to tweak the dosages of the meds. My ovaries grow eggs, the doctor physically fertilizes the eggs with my husband's sperm, and inserts them directly into my uterus. What could possibly go wrong? How could that not work? It seemed so clear to me - IVF meant that I was going suffer through a couple of rough weeks, but that I was going to be a mommy. End of story.

Oh how naive, and ill-informed, I was. The secret truth about IVF is that it is a voodoo science. There is so much experimentation, and guess-work, and luck involved. There is no method that works across the board. Every single case is completely different. Some are simple. Some are complicated. Some are fraught with hidden problems around every corner. And no two doctors are alike - I mean that in terms of philosophy, practice, expertise, and knowledge. You will get a different combination of all of these with each doctor you see.

It didn't occur to me that after the eggs fertilized, the number of viable embryos would decrease daily as their development stunted to a halt and they just died. Each day, I received a report on the status of my embies, and each day, I had a smaller and smaller pool.

Our 2 Fragmented Embryos from Cycle 1

When I went in on the day of my first transfer, the doctors showed me the pictures of the 2 remaining embryos they would be transferring. This was the first time I had even heard the term fragmentation. My embryos were riddled with fragmentation. This, I learned quickly, was not good. Chances of success were not high. I was crushed. I had literally no idea that embryo quality was even a concern, no less a concern for me. I went in that morning on such a high - believing so strongly that this was it, that now nothing stood in my way. And I left later that day knowing that it would not work.

The 10 days of injections, the retrieval, and the most painful transfer in the history of transfers, did not compare to the pure and utter crappiness of the next couple of weeks. Do you know what it is like to know with a certainty that this life-altering procedure failed, and yet still trick your mind into believing there is hope? To know without a doubt that your body has failed you once again, and then analyze every stomach ache, every sore nipple, every back pain, and think....well, maybe....? And then, after two weeks of this internal war, taking the blood test in the office, waiting, an anxious, nervous wreck, for that call, and receiving confirmation. "I'm sorry, but your beta came back negative." And then, having to go back in two days later to confirm. And then, having that phone call all over again. "I'm sorry, but your beta came back negative." No shit.

Anger. Heart break. Loss. Of hope. Of happiness. Of belief. Of trust.

So how do we allow ourselves to hope, just the right amount of hope - not too much, not too little? I have no idea. But somehow, we must.

But You're So Young!

2012-07-27T12:31:00.000-04:00

and other things you shouldn't say to an infertile

Leaving out obvious ones like Maybe this is God's way of saying you shouldn't be parents, or, This could be nature's population control, here is a list of things well-intentioned people say, but shouldn't.

1. I know so many people who get pregnant after adopting. There are so many reasons that this is the wrong thing to say. For starters, a child is not a pawn in some grand scheme to trick your body into giving you a biological child. Adoption is many things - a major commitment that must be done for the right reasons; a beautiful gift to both child and parents. But no one adopts and thinks, this will lead to what I really want. Not to mention that the implication here is that adoption is just so simple. The time, emotional stress, and money that adoption takes is not trivial at all. But perhaps most significantly, statistically, infertiles who adopt are no more likely to achieve a natural pregnancy than those who don't. It's just a load of BS.

2. You could always adopt. Financial restrictions aside, adoption is a decision that people have to come to on their own, in the right time. The dream of biological children, of being pregnant, of offspring with your spouse's genes, is not one that can easily be dismissed. This does not mean that people won't eventually choose this option, but they must first mourn the loss of their other options before coming to this decision.

3. I have a friend who was trying for months, and as soon as they stopped trying, it happened. Covered here. But a short recap: Relaxation does not cure a medical diagnosis. When there is something wrong with your body (a blocked tube, husband is shooting blanks, ovaries are covered in cysts, anovulation, etc.), going on vacation and taking a warm bubble bath will not get you pregnant.

4. You're so young! As a statement of disbelief, this is okay to say. It is difficult to understand how infertility can so effect people in their twenties. But as a statement of comfort, think again. First of all, I know how old I am, and you pointing it out doesn't help anything. While it is true that statistically, the younger you are, the better your chances of conceiving, every woman, and every condition is unique. A 25 year old can have a much more difficult time conceiving than a 40 year old, even when the two have the same condition. And regardless of age, infertility is painful. Attempting to minimize the pain in this way only serves to minimize the problem, and it is not comforting.

5. Enjoy your sleep while you can get it! or At least you get to travel! Pointing out that infertiles have different lifestyles than couples with children is both tactless and useless. Trust me, we know that we can sleep in on Sunday mornings and consistently get a full 8 hours of sleep. And we know that we can take a road trip for the weekend whenever we want. We know that we don't have to deal with a constant barrage of poop and spit-up and projectile vomiting. And we know that you have stretch marks in places you never imagined and that your body will never be the same again. We know that running around after toddlers is exhausting, and that your sex life has changed, and that we have seen Italy and Spain and Israel and France while you were puking and dealing with sciatica. But know this - we would trade Spain and weekends away and a full night of sleep, for poop and vomit and stretch marks and constant exhaustion, any day.

But here's the rub - some of these rules (2 and 4, for example) mostly only apply to fertiles. Or, sometimes, even to people with "less severe" infertility as well. Often, the same advice or words of support coming from someone who knows what it's like, who has been through it all, can have a very different meaning, and don't come across as insensitive. So if you hear someone with infertility trying to comfort someone else with infertility, those words are likely not going to have the same impact coming from someone else.

Have any other favorites you think should be added to the list? Comment below!