Just wanted to throw three links out there if you want them for your blog in order to get the word out in more places. I update the book list and peer counselor list semi-daily. So I think as long as I just add information and hit re-publish, the link will always work. People have already written me to say that they’ve gotten peer counselor questions and I don’t think there is anything cooler than a list of fellow Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters that you can turn to for instant advice on specific questions (or just to get a heads up about a specific procedure/treatment or process when you’re trying to make a decision or steel yourself the night before an appointment).

Infertility’s Common Thread Project (http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/2006/09/history-of-infertilitys-common-thread.html)

The Big List of Infertility Books (http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/2006/09/best-little-infertility-books-in-world.html)

The Peer Counselor List (http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/2006/09/peer-infertility-counselors.html)

Keep adding to the book list when you find another book you like and the peer counselor list is constantly growing.

Get it? IM? Instant Messaging? I’m? I am? It’s a pun! I think I need to take a break…

So what is the etiquette with instant message? I have to admit that I was beyond excited when JJ at Domesticated sent me an IM a few nights ago when she wanted to move her blog to a different section of the blogroll. It was my first IM. Yes, sniff, I was an IM virgin and JJ popped my cherry (you would think there was nothing left to pop down there since catheters and ultrasound wands have paved a highway).

Okay, so there was an IM-like program on my computer a few years ago that I put on when my friend was living in Ireland. We would “meet” online at a set time for a conversation because we were too cheap for phone cards. But that doesn’t really count because those IMs didn’t have the little dinging goodness of the one I received from JJ. The dinging goodness of an unexpected IM.

Though…um…I have to admit that I didn’t know what it was. I heard the ding when I was in the kitchen and my husband said, “what’s that?” It wasn’t until a while later when I returned to the computer that I saw the little box on the screen and connected that the dinging sound was my very first IM.

I know I am enthralled with IMing because it is new, and it will soon become as undesirable as answering my cell phone (I am notorious for never having on my cell phone). But until that day arrives, what is the etiquette for IMing? Is it cool to IM anyone who is appearing in my gmail sidebar or do you need to establish an IMing relationship first (by the way, anyone is free to IM me)? If I IM someone and they’re not actually at the computer (I, for instance, leave gmail up on the screen sometimes all day, even when I’m not near the computer), will it remain up on their computer until they sit down again, or will it disappear into the ether if they don’t answer it within a given amount of time? When do people use IM over an email?

There is so much to learn, so much to learn.

It’s really hard to buy into the idea that everything happens for a reason when you’re at the mouth of mourning. Or in the belly of mourning. Or even being shot out of the anus of mourning. It isn’t until years later that you can finally look back and trace all the bad experiences and make up a story of how they helped stave off something even worse from happening. Or how they brought you to your baby (or, in my friend’s case, her b’shert).

But that’s the advice everyone gives you when you’re in the middle of it–that everything happens for a reason. And I walk a thin line on the side of belief while still dipping my foot from time to time into the deep waters of disbelief. Because once you take this thought out to its ends of predestination, it begins to fall apart somewhat.

Here is the part that trips me: reason. If there is a reason, then it means there was thought behind it. And if there was thought behind it, then who is doing the thinking? A higher power? Destiny incarnate? And if it is destiny incarnate or a higher power, take this idea into another direction. Does destiny keep things balanced? Or is there a strange distribution of crap? This is where the questions of doubt begin to unravel the idea that everything happens for a reason: why are abusive parents able to conceive and carry to term easily? Why do wonderful, giving people sometimes die young while mass murderers live into their nineties? You would think if reason was behind this that the correlation between deserving and receiving would be clearer. Unless the unbalanced distribution is part of the greater plan as well.

And that’s all I have to bank on to keep me on the side of believing that there is a point to why it takes some people so long to conceive or why it takes others so long to find their b’shert. And why we endure terrible losses.

My RE warned me that the best time to try again was within a year of the twins’ birth. And we didn’t. We just gave up that opportunity by sort of avoiding the whole thing. I don’t know why. Maybe because I became a bleeding psycho of worry every time we thought about trying again. That may have had something to do with it. And I’m not kicking myself now. I’m just mindful that I gave up an opportunity. Which may have not worked regardless. But it still looks like a little shining pot of gold behind me on the path that I failed to pick up. Even if it wasn’t a realistic find at the time. I mean, how was I going to carry that big pot of gold while holding two children? And how was I supposed to know that down the road, you still needed money in this lifetime?

And this is the little path of “reason” that I cut for myself in order to make sense of everything. My twins needed to be IUGR and premature in order to save a future child from being IUGR. Because they monitor you much closer with a twin pregnancy, and many times, IUGR is not caught in time in a singleton and stillbirth occurs. So the IUGR was caught in my case because we were having so many sonograms. And because the twins were IUGR, the doctor told us about thrombophilia. And because I didn’t try to conceive last year, I wasn’t pregnant when I finally cleaned up the mess by my bed and found the paper on thrombophilia (after first reading about it in a book that month after pretty much forgetting the OBs warning to have myself tested–I mean, look at the strange coincidences surrounding that). So now I am getting myself tested at the end of October. And if it comes back that I do have a clotting disorder, I may have just saved my future child. Because this next pregnancy, even if it’s a singleton, I will be closely monitored regardless due to the IUGR. But perhaps even moreso due to the clotting disorder. And that’s how enduring the first round of infertility (to bring me to these children) made entering the second round of infertility a bit easier. The reason behind everything we went through to get to this place.

And it’s a rosy little way to think about things. And you can only do it when you’re pre-ovulation and filled with a lot of hope. Don’t try this during the 2 week wait.

So why did my friend need to go through this terrible break-up? Because it kept her living where she is now (she had considered moving prior to meeting this man) so she could meet a person who would connect her to her b’shert? Because it gave her deep insights into what she needed from future relationships in order to make them go smoother? Or because he got her through a rough time in life that would have been too lonely and too difficult to get through on her own?

I don’t know. And I don’t think we can even begin to see these things until years down the road. And even then, are we just seeing what we want to see? Why does believing in those connections and reasons make the situation more bearable? You’re still enduring the same loss (infertility, pregnancy loss, a break-up). How does thinking up the possible positive make the negative more tolerable?

As I was musing about the pros and cons about being out (as well as what I can do to torture my eight-year-old neighbour), one of my ladies-when-waiting called last night. Her two-year relationship is over. The one that was supposed to continue into engagement and marriage and growing old with one another. Her heart is breaking.

This was one of those terrible break-ups that took a month to complete. And in the end, it felt like a miscarriage of sorts. While this analogy may feel offensive to some, I think it is a very helpful metaphor for those who have never experienced a pregnancy loss. Sometimes people just need to have the experience connected to something within their own life to have that “a-ha” moment where they learn how to be sensitive and how to step in and help based on how they felt within their own situation. And since many more people have experienced lost love, it is the most universal analogy I can create to give those who haven’t experienced pregnancy loss a window into understanding. It is also the background you need to know so I can flagellate myself for doing EXACTLY what I hate when everyone else does it to me. And perhaps I just needed to see the situation as a reverse metaphor–from a space of infertility–to remember how relationship loss feels.

So many of the emotions experienced through relationships and infertility are the same. Our generation of women were raised to believe that anything was possible if we worked hard enough for it. Study in school and you’ll go to college. Work hard in college and you’ll get a good job. In Hebrew, we have a word that means the person you were meant to be with–your b’shert. Trying to find my b’shert was the first time that working hard meant nothing. I could do certain things that made the likelihood of finding my husband more plausible. If I had remained locked in the house, it was unlikely that I would find people to date. But I couldn’t do anything to find someone who fit me perfectly nor could I make anyone fall in love with me (I know what you’re thinking–who wouldn’t be in love with me since I’m so freakin’ adorable? But…alas…there were boys who were idiots and couldn’t see the perfection before them). And we all know this is true for children too. There are things we can do help along the process–such as having sex or doing procedures or filling out paperwork. But in the end, most paths to parenthood are out of our control.

This could become a long post about all the losers I dated, but let’s skip ahead (until I come back to certain losers from the past in my next post since this is definitely a two or three post thought) to meeting my husband. Another idea we have in Hebrew is the term “mazel” meaning “luck.” The term “mazel” is comprised of three letters: mem, zayin, and lamed. Those three letters stand for three words: ma-com (place), zeman (time), and la’asot (doing). Meaning that luck is about being in the right place at the right time and doing the right thing. It’s not about magic happening–it’s about you making it happen. But doing your job may mean that many pieces need to line up in order to make it work. Does that make sense? So that luck is (1) somewhat within your control, but (2) takes time. Luck may not happen when you want it to happen, but it will happen if you keep doing your part. Unfortunately, it becomes a bit of slogging on since you don’t know when the “right” time will occur until it happens.

I know you didn’t come here for a linguistics lesson (and I’m not even certain how reliable my aunt is when she told me the etymology of “mazel” because she also told me that 90% of English words come from Hebrew. Which doesn’t sound quite right to me….), but that’s sort of how I view hooking up with my b’shert. I made it happen and he made it happen, but we were brought together at the right place when we were in the right time to find each other because we were both looking to do the right thing. And that’s the way I had to think about infertility because it was the guiding thought that kept me sane in that process, even though I didn’t truly believe that I would be a mother. I said it kept me sane–I didn’t say I entirely believed it.

In relationships and infertility, it’s out of our control. We can only do so much to make it happen. And that’s very frustrating to a woman who has been taught that if she works hard enough, she’ll achieve whatever she wants.

And then there were the times when I did achieve what I wanted through that hard work and I lost it. My friend’s relationship was a blighted ovum. It looked like a pregnancy, and the hCG rose like a pregnancy, but once it came time to look inside, she found an empty sac. Nothing. And her heart is breaking right now because she had been led to believe that she was pregnant. Her body, her heart, her relationship tricked her into believing that this was going to be forever. And that is the cruelest part of relationships and infertility–the hope that is taken away in an instant.

Now here is the self-flagellation: what do we hear when we experience a pregnancy loss? You can try again. You’ll have the child you’re meant to have. It was your body’s way of saying that it wasn’t perfect enough. It will happen for you. And these platitudes are so offensive because they completely dismiss the life that was growing inside of you. You don’t want to try again–you want to mourn this baby. This was the child you were meant to have. And who determines perfection? And no one can promise that it will happen for you.

When someone loses a spouse, no one shows up at the funeral and says, “you can date again. You’ll get married again. You’ll find another person soon.” Even if these sentiments are semi-true. Many people do remarry who lose their spouse at a young age. Some do not, but most do re-enter dating and relationships after a mourning period. We don’t remind them of these possibilities when they’re in the crushing wave of loss because we take those losses (of a friend, family member, or spouse) seriously. We give them gravity. We give the person space and time. We don’t dismiss their loss by making them focus on the future. We instead help them to mourn. And follow their timetable. And offer support.

I think Murray’s point last week that people can’t understand what they can’t see is so true. Sadly true. I don’t think we properly mourn pregnancy loss in this society. There are many who would say that it’s more difficult to lose someone you knew outside your body, that you shared your life with, or that you even once held. Speak to anyone who has experienced a stillbirth vs. an early miscarriage and they’ll say that the stillbirth was emotionally harder. But does the lessening of intensity warrant the complete detachment from recognition of its emotional importance? Is a divorce the same as a bad break-up? Well, no. It isn’t. But that doesn’t mean that a bad break-up doesn’t come with its own gravity. In the same way that an early miscarriage comes with its own gravity that does not detract from the importance of a stillbirth or the loss of a family member. Y’all know how I feel about creating a hierarchy of loss. We each process loss differently, and we need to respect each other’s process.

Which means that the bad break-up and the miscarriage deserve respect. And deserve mourning time. And deserve the supporter to follow the timetable of the mourner. And I say this because in my head, I started thinking about set-ups. And singles groups. And blind dates. And I started going through the rolodex in my head of all the new people I had met since I had last set her up (which was a disaster, okay, I can now admit that set-up was a disaster). And by doing so, I wasn’t allowing her to mourn. Because she didn’t want a relationship. She wanted that relationship. She didn’t want just any husband. She wanted that
man to be her husband. And to tell her to move on semi-immediately demeans the love she had with that man. Because she needs to mourn the loss before moving on.

One day, she will wake up and feel ready. I hope everyone gives her the space she needs and lets her focus on the present without pushing her toward the future. She will have time to try again and I will have time to help her meet her b’shert and get her into that right place at that right time. But right now she needs to mourn. And the best words we can give in the loss of a relationship: I’m so sorry; talk about it; do you want me to comment or just listen; talk about the good points; what did you learn from this–are also the ones we can use to help a person mourn a pregnancy loss: I’m so sorry; talk about it; do you want me to comment or just listen; tell me about how you felt while you were pregnant; how do you want to remember this loss; what did your RE learn from this. Instead of pushing them. Before they’re ready. To move on and try again.

Self-flagellation is over for the time being. But we had an interesting conversation last night about why things happen that deserves its own post. But right now, a huge pile of laundry awaits.

The LBWWMTDASADFFIHAOTAC was playing outside tonight with his little friends when I ran out to the food store. And…perhaps this is why people told me that G-d would make me a mother when I was “ready”…but all I could think of was just wait until Halloween. Trick or treat? You’ve got to be kidding if you think I’m giving you candy after you wouldn’t help me get rid of a cricket. There’s a box of raisins in your future, my friend.
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Added on 10/3/06: I’m taking all votes from now until Halloween night–what does the LBWWMTDASADFFIHAOTAC get in his trick-or-treating bag?

So far, we have a toothbrush, apple, and pennies. And a single walnut in the shell.