My mother bought my kids a new book called Little Quack’s Bedtime and we were reading it at dinner tonight for the first time. It’s about a mother telling her five ducks to go to sleep. It’s a simple tale of ducks being scared of the dark, but of course, if you think as I do, you can see infertility references in everything. The ducks point out all the things that are scaring them about the dark and the mother reassures them.

And then that last duck…goddamn Little Quack…had to twist his figurative knife into my literal heart.

Puddle shut his eyes and went to sleep.
But Little Quack was still awake.
Little Quack looked. Little Quack listened.
All around was dark dark dark.

“Mama!” he cried. “Why, oh, why is the night so dark?”

Mama snuggled close, and then she said,
“So the stars can shine their twinkling light.
That’s why the night is, oh, so dark.”

And I bawled.

Here I am, sticking to my convictions 🙂

I feel pretty strongly that it’s fine to have opinions, but it’s not always fine to express them (ha–coming from inside a blog that is nothing but opinions). I found the whole Tom Cruise thing interesting because he still feels the need to express his opinion on something that apparently has nothing to do with him–neither Brooke Shields nor depression itself. He isn’t saying that taking vitamins worked for him or that he has ever suffered from depression and tried non-drug therapies. And I always wonder the purpose of those opinions.

I’m trying to figure out how Brooke Shield’s taking antidepressants affects anyone other than Brooke Shields. You could make an argument that it affects her family. But you can’t really tell me that Tom Cruise is affected by the personal actions of Brooke Shields to treat her depression. Not in any significant way.

And I feel the same way about everyone else’s medical choices. They may not be the same choices I would make, but everyone is entitled to their own personal choices as long as your actions to not negatively impact another person. You may choose to take antibiotics at the drop of a hat, and I may choose never to take antibiotics if I can help it. And I don’t need to tell you my feelings on antibiotics. It doesn’t serve any purpose–especially after you’ve taken the antibiotics. What is the purpose of Tom Cruise expressing his opinion about Brooke Shields after the fact? To keep her away from antidepressants? She’s already done that. I think it’s just to make her feel like shit. Not intentionally, but if he took a moment to consider his words and their purpose, I think he would see that these opinions (like many of the ones we receive daily in regards to infertility) do not actually serve their intended purpose, but they do make the receiver feel like crap.

Which brings us to the third topic in the stigma trifecta. After depression and infertility, the third taboo topic that garners no respect and a lot of opinions…bariatric surgery and obesity. Does this sound familiar? You could go on a diet. You could exercise more. It’s a matter of willpower. Join Weight Watchers. Join Jenny Craig. My friend’s sister lost 200 pounds by eating only grapefruit three times a day.

It sounds familiar because it’s very similar to the lame advice we’re given about infertility. Does the speaker actually believe other ideas weren’t tested before turning to bariatric surgery? Does the speaker actually believe I haven’t tried all of their ideas before I turned towards fertility treatments? And can’t they accept that if the person makes this choice that it is the best choice for that person? Just as A.R.T. was the best choice for me. It may not be the best choice for you–either due to your own opinions or the advice of your doctor. But it was the best choice for me. And in reality, it doesn’t affect you. It only affects my husband and my children. And no one else.

So it makes me angry when people suggest that I didn’t try enough other things before turning towards the extreme. Or I didn’t try the right things. I did what was best for me. What was best for my family. What the doctor believed would work the best. What was financially feasible.

Last night, I was reading the letter-to-the-editor section of People while trying to enjoy a spinach burrito when I read this comment on a family who had undergone gastric bypass surgery:

“While I applaud the Sheltons for choosing to change their lifestyle, I balk at the extremes they took to get there,” writes Jennifer May of Stockton, California.

Balk?

Truly?

To be honest, I didn’t even know I was suppose to form an opinion on gastric bypass surgery. I had been under the impression that it was something I knew nothing about, therefore, I should probably not form an opinion on it. And beyond that, I was under the impression that people made decisions that fit them best and therefore if they utilized gastric bypass, it was the best choice for them. Not that I blindly follow the advice of doctors without doing a bit of my own personal research, but I am paying for health care and their professional opinion. Therefore, if a doctor recommended gastric bypass, I would have to say that it’s probably an option that should be strongly considered.

The next comment could have applied to infertility as well:

Adds Jennifer Christiansen of Sussex, Wisconsin: “Instead of spending $11,000 per person on gastric surgery, how about [hiring] a personal trainer and nutritionist?”

If I had $11,000, I would certainly turn it over to Jennifer Christiansen because she has great ideas on how to spend health care dollars. I trust her even more than my doctors. I mean, my doctors only went to medical school for four years and then completed years of residency programs or additional training. Jennifer Christiansen probably went through that much training–IF NOT MORE–in order to form her opinions on gastric bypass surgery. Of course, all mental health decisions will be turned over to Tom Cruise.

Let’s all try this one from The Stirrup Queen’s Little Instruction Calendar: September 5, 2006: you don’t need to express your opinion on any medical procedures that do not directly affect you or a close loved one. Let’s leave the opinions on the validity of a medical procedure to an expert. Let’s trust that other people make decisions that are best for them and their family. At the same time, pass along information and opinions that you have directly experienced.

My mother has a desk calendar that’s called Life’s Little Instruction Calendar. Today’s “instruction”: offer no apologies for your convictions.

Really?

Not even when your convictions are highly offensive? I can think of a few former dictators who held some pretty strong opinions that led to a few genocides. Are you sure they shouldn’t apologize?

This comes on the same day that my mother handed me a clipping from the Washington Post about the apology Tom Cruise gave to Brooke Shields:

He came over to my house, and he gave me a heartfelt apology, and he apologized for bringing me into the whole thing and for everything that happened. And
through it all, I was so impressed with how heartfelt it was. And I didn’t feel at any time that I had to defend myself, nor did I feel that he was trying to
convince me of anything other than the fact that he was deeply sorry. And I
accepted it.”
— Brooke Shields on “The Tonight Show” Friday, describing Tom Cruise’s apology for his criticism of her use of antidepressants.

In another article on the topic, Cruise’s spokesperson, Arnold Robinson added their camp’s opinion on the apology. “It is true that his friendship with Ms. Shields has been mended.
(But) he has not changed his position about anti-depressants, which as evidenced by the black label warnings issued by the FDA on these types of drugs, are unhealthy.”

Looks like someone over in Hollywood has my mother’s Life’s Little Instruction Calendar.

Because in the end, he’s standing by his convictions. He still knows more about postpartum depression and vitamins than Brooke Shields, but he apologized for using her name during his rant and bringing her into the fallout from his comments. It’s sort of like slapping someone and telling them that you’re sorry that it hurts. You’re not sorry that you hit the person, but you’re sorry that they’re feeling pain from it. If only you could hit them and not have their skin smart.

And it all goes back to two things: (1) why I actually care about his opinion (yes, you read that correctly)–when he shouldn’t be expressing an opinion at all and (2) he forgot that even celebrities can’t unring bells.

Last week, we were talking about celebrities and being out about infertility. And people defended their right to privacy. And I’m all for their right to privacy–they are a private citizen first and foremost. But what about when their quest for selective privacy (and I’m talking about celebrities who pick and choose what they share–not celebrities who are notorious about protecting their privacy) is creating a skewed view of reality? The seemingly hyper-fertility of Hollywood creating a lower sense of self-worth in women who are struggling to conceive? They have great hair, great abs, great skin, AND easy breeding? It creates a fine layer of bright astroturf on land that may not truly be greener. As someone said in the comments, they may have the money to pay for treatments, but if they’re going through infertility, they’re experiencing the same emotional pain. So come stand by your sisters.

Which brings us to both points with Tom Cruise. I care about what he says not because I think he has any clue, but because I know other people are listening to him and it’s shaping their views (in the same way other people are listening to these seemingly hyper-fertile celebrities and forming ideas about infertility based on their withholding or lying). Someone who had no opinion on PPD now has an opinion on PPD, and it’s not a very sound opinion. Think back how often you’ve parroted something you heard when you didn’t have a strong conviction in place already. The times you said a restaurant sucked when you had never had a meal within its walls (but you had heard about it from a review or through a friend). The times you’ve argued with your spouse about which brand is the better brand–even when you had yet to try the product!

And you can’t unring a bell.

He can apologize and try to do a little P.R. spin on the whole incident, but his words shaped opinions and you can’t undo that damage with an apology. And he did a huge disservice to women everywhere because…well…united we stand, divided we fall. Never say never–PPD can strike on the first pregnancy or the second pregnancy or the third. It can strike women who adopt or women who do fertility treatments. In fact, women who do fertility treatments are MORE likely to experience PPD (4 times more likely according to a study in Fertility and Sterility). Even if you have not currently experience PPD, you have an obligation to support other women who have PPD because you never know when it may be you on the other side of that line.

Which brings us back to Life’s Little Instruction Calendar. How about this for a little instruction: if you hold a conviction, take it out every once in a while and examine it. Make sure you understand why you hold it. Make sure your internal argument is sound. Especially before you speak it. Since you can’t unring the bell.

Shhhhhhhhh…can you hear that? It’s the sound of untouched computers while people enjoy this last vacation before summer semi-officially ends. All is quiet in the blog world. But here are some wonderful thoughts I found this week.

Over at Jesus Was Not a Republican, not only did Erin get back the DNA report with her name spelled wrong, but she got pictures of her new daughter, Azucena, and Azucena’s birth mother that were taken at the DNA test. Erin is adopting from Guatemala and her post on getting the phone call (and the first pictures) was very emotional. In this new round of photos, the birth mother (referred to as S) is holding the baby, though Erin blocked out her face to maintain her privacy. But I thought it was beautiful–two women forever connected by this child and Erin trying to imagine what was happening in her head as these photos were taken. And I think that’s one of the most beautiful parts about adoption and third-party reproduction–the ties it creates between people who would have never been joined together in this life.

Vee, over in Australia, has gone from living the Sweet Life to the Tired Life. She has hit the wall–entered that bone-draining tiredness that suffocates you during infertility. She puts it so eloquently, the exhaustion that accompanies this high-level of stress. And it’s not a tiredness you can sleep away or recover from with a good vacation. It’s a tiredness born out of heartache. So I’m sending good thoughts her way. Because I’ve been there. And it’s terrible to have your day stretch ahead of you and just feel so tired. Infertility makes you feel like you’ve been dropped into a pit with very high, slippery stone walls and no one to help you get out. I wish I could send you a ladder, Sweet Vee.

And speaking of support, if you haven’t read Stella and/or Ben this week, their second IVF cycle was cancelled due to lack of fertilization. And she needs some support right now and a shoulder to cry on because she is right now in–as she says–her own personal hell. I’m sorry, sweetie. Please head on over there and let her know that you’re thinking of her.

On a happier note (as if there is a happier note in infertility), if you haven’t found Offsprung yet, head over there because it is written from the elusive male point-of-view (shhhh, approach slowly with your head slightly bent. No sudden movements. You don’t want to scare him off). He has joined the ranks of Dynamo Dad, DI Dad, End of My Line and a Dad Someday (amongst others) to start a blog about infertility from the male point-of-view. Go support him–and let me know if you know of other infertility blogs written by men.

And speaking of men, head over to Richard at End of My Line? and offer him a big fat congratulations because on Tuesday, four pee sticks came back with lines lines lines. By which I mean two lines. But since they took four tests, they have lines lines lines.

Katty over at Going it Alone has a very amusing post this week about the gas we pass when we’re pregnant. Congratulations are also in order because she had her first vomit. And that pretty much sums up pregnancy after infertility–rather than bitch about the morning sickness, we wish our bodies would bring it on so we know the pregnancy is okay. And rather than discreetly ignore the gas and wax poetic about the beauty of pregnancy, we know way too much about our bodies (and have lost any sense of modesty) and are smart enough to pass along any information we have so others can be prepared. Because infertile chickies take a page out of the old Boy Scount handbook and be prepared. So, congratulations Katty–may the twins be healthy and grow. And make you belch.

This is a tribute to my last great vagina posse. And by “last” I mean my third one. There were my chickies from Baby Center who all got pregnant and moved on without me. Then there were my chickies over here in D.C. who all got pregnant and moved on without me. And then there were my chickies over on the RESOLVE boards. And this is a tribute to them.

Because I was the one who moved away. I stopped posting as often and then I stopped visiting as often. And finally I just dropped away. As these things happen. And I think about these women sometimes–Betsy, Chickenpig, APKim (short for Anti-Pineapple Kim), Seher. And I wonder if they ever built their families. Or if they’re still on the road. I know that they’re still in the Land of If because we’re all still on this island. So I hope to run into them at the post office. Not the literal post office. The imaginary Land of If post office. Just to be clear that none of these women probably live in my town…And that I’m talking about real women and imaginary places. This is beginning to sound a bit like Mr. Roger’s Neighbourhood.

So this is a tribute to the best advice I ever got from a fellow Stirrup Queen. I had come to the RESOLVE board crying over a comment that a coworker made to me about how she had gotten pregnant accidentally when she knew that we had been trying for a while and doing fertility treatments. And this is the advice that Seher gave me that I now pass along to you. You need to adopt a Southern accent, which may throw off the listener a bit. You know, going from your normal accent to a Southern accent (unless you’re from the South. And I assume this will be even more obvious if you’re from somewhere like France and you switch to an American Southern accent, but it is necessary. Say it aloud pretending you’re Reese Witherspoon and you’ll see exactly what she means). But when I use her words, scrunching up my nose and tilting my head just so, I imagine myself sipping sweet tea and being a sassy Southern woman rather than a crabby Mid-Atlantic woman.

Did she tell you what sexual position she used to get pregnant “accidentally”? Just wondering how on earth one could get so personal at work. But I know exactly how things get personal because I am the Mouth Of The South. Here in Mississippi, we can say, “Oh, how nice” in the most sing-songy kind of way – but what we really mean is “Go (expletive deletive) Yourself.” I don’t know where you live, but let’s practice together . . . “Oh How Niiiice”. But smile like you mean it. Then remember what it really means and maybe it’ll perk you up. –Seher

Thank you, Seher. “Oh, how nice” has saved me from saying what I’m really thinking many times.