Let’s Bust Some Myths, and A Piñata!

When Resolve put out a call for bloggers to “Bust a Myth” about infertility, the immediate image that came to my mind was: what if I literally busted apart a piñata shaped as a uterus while busting some knowledge?

I think the idea came from the very satisfying scene in “Valentine’s Day” where Jennifer Garner cracks open that piñata of a heart after getting her own heart broken. My own heart has been broken by my reproductive organs. Repeatedly.

I’m an infertility survivor. And in my opinion, there are many myths that need to be busted around the subject. I am going to target ANECDOTAL EVIDENCE, which is the cause of much personal misery to those going through infertility. Since the public doesn’t know the facts about infertility, or the STATISTICAL EVIDENCE, they trot out stories: about distant friends, relatives, frankly, mythical people, who “overcame” infertility through Tahitian vacations.

One of the things big corporations used to pay me for was to write FAQs, to answer “Frequently Answered Questions.” I think it’s time I wrote one to scatter some infertility anecdotes into the wind. Feel free to share my video and this post with your relatives and friends when they start with the stories. Let’s fight myths with facts.

MY TOP THREE MYTHS ABOUT INFERTILITY

1. Isn’t it true that if you relax, you’re more likely to get pregnant?

The latest evidence suggests otherwise. A large-scale review of fourteen studies, which followed 3,583 women who were diagnosed as infertile and were going through a cycle of fertility treatment, concluded that emotional distress (defined as stress and tension) did NOT affect whether the woman became pregnant or not. (footnote 1). Many infertility problems are caused by physical, anatomical and immunological issues (like low ovarian reserve, blocked fallopian tubes, lack of ovulation, low sperm count, birth defects related to both male and female anatomy), which could not be aided by a lack of stress anyway. (footnote 2).

2. Why don’t you just adopt?

Adopting is wonderful way to add to your family. It is also much more expensive, difficult and time consuming than most people know. Domestic and international adoption can cost in excess of $30,000 and take many years. The outcome is also uncertain: birthmothers may change their minds, foreign countries could change their policies. The truth is many families don’t have the financial resources to fund an adoption (footnote 3)

3. IVF works every time!

Nope. Not even close. Depending on varying factors, the statistical chance of success in a single cycle of IVF is between 30-45%. That means the chance of FAILURE is 55-70%! (footnote 4)

For more information, please go here. For more information on “myth-busting”, go here.

The Royals And Bullying: Two Subjects Not Related?

Stupid WordPress/Blogger issues!! I asked some of my favorite bloggers to add the Name/URL function because for some reason, my WordPress identity is not accepted on Open ID even after weeks of troubleshooting with WordPress. (Blogger won’t give me the time of day.)

Unfortunately, this fix enables the anonymous function, which, as we all know, can attract unwelcome elements. I feel awful, because apparently that’s exactly what has happened to one of my favorite bloggers. And then, Mel wrote a particularly timely post today about the Internet’s nasty underbelly.

All I really have to add is: WHAT’S WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!?!?!

Now I’d like to talk about the Royal Wedding. When I lived in London, I once worked with the staff of a Brit royal (can’t say who) very, very briefly during a conference I helped publicize. I like this royal a lot.

I’m also pretty sure my former boss will be at the wedding. I feel somewhat connected to this wedding, I’m saying. Invested. I also really, really wish right now I still lived in London. I’m sure my friends who still live there are complaining about the tax dollars and acting totally blasé (which is the cool thing to do) but if I was still there, I’d probably be camping out for the best spot on the parade route. UPDATED *I actually Facebooked some of them and they are all using the national holiday to get out of town. “No one cares about the wedding,” I was told. Not too surprising. Most of the Londoners we knew thought the Royals “were for tourists.”*

This wasn’t always the case. I just watched “The King’s Speech” and it painted quite an admirable picture of King George. It was a strange thing to discover that one of the richest and most privileged men ever alive was a victim of systemic (and horrific) bullying: at one point, he admitted his nanny didn’t feed him enough for years, because she favored his older brother. I love stories about people of ordinary or sub-ordinary talents rising above them when they need to for the good of others. King George was a Neville Longbottom, a shy man with a speech impediment who had been tormented his whole life, but he was able to rouse his country when they needed it most, with his greatest weakness, his speaking ability.

So anonymous bullies and cowards, shut up. In the name of Neville Longbottom and King George, I command you.

Now let’s all enjoy the Royal Wedding. I can’t wait to see Princess Kate’s gown!

Reflections on Being Surrounded By Barbra Streisands

Barbra Streisand is a go-to joke in my immediate family.  My father was flown down to interview her in L.A., during her publicity rounds for “The Mirror Has Two Faces.”   My father had interviewed many famous people at that point in his career, including a President of the United States.  He loves to tell us that no one kept him waiting longer than BARBRA.

Here’s his first-hand account:

“I flew down to Beverly Hills Sunday to catch an evening screening of Streisand’s new movie, `The Mirror Has Two Faces.’ The following day I waited around until after 11 p.m., even though the interview was scheduled for 6 p.m.

There was an eight-minute video about the filming of the movie that played continually in the room where journalists slumped, awaiting the golden summons to a one-on-one with Barbra. I watched it dozens of times, committing many lines to memory, before thinking to disable the machine when no one looked.

Great consternation when the sabotage was discovered. But then we got to watch ‘Monday Night Football,’ ‘Murphy Brown,’ ‘Melrose Place’ and other diversions.”

My family is extremely WASP-y.  I can say that without being disrespectful, I hope.  I grew up believing: You never keep anyone waiting, you need to be polite, you couch your opinions carefully, you don’t hurt people’s feelings.

I’ve been watching the first season of “Glee,” and honestly, I’ve been on the fence about it.  Until the episode entitled “Sectionals.”  Rachel Berry, the Barbra Streisand-ish character on the show, described as “wanting everything too much”, sings a Barbra Streisand song.  The song is “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” Lea Michele rocks the hell out of that song.  I thought about the song, a lot, over the last couple of days.

The lyrics might as well state the opinions of most of those who surround me now: they have an incredibly different philosophy than the ethos I grew up with.  I think their philosophy might well be summed up by this song.  It’s a scrappy, life-consuming song.  Here are the lyrics:

Don’t tell me not to live,
Just sit and putter,
Life’s candy and the sun’s
A ball of butter.
Don’t bring around a cloud
To rain on my parade!
Don’t tell me not to fly–
I’ve simply got to.
If someone takes a spill,
It’s me and not you.
Who told you you’re allowed
To rain on my parade!
I’ll march my band out,
I’ll beat my drum,
And if I’m fanned out,
Your turn at bat, sir.
At least I didn’t fake it.
Hat, sir, I guess I didn’t make it!
But whether I’m the rose
Of sheer perfection,
Or freckle on the nose
Of life’s complexion,
The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye,
I gotta fly once,
I gotta try once,
Only can die once, right, sir?
Ooh, life is juicy,
Juicy, and you see
I gotta have my bite, sir!
Get ready for me, love,
cause I’m a commer,
I simply gotta march,
My heart’s a drummer.
Don’t bring around a cloud
To rain on my parade!

I’m gonna live and live now,
Get what I want–I know how,
One roll for the whole show bang,
One throw, that bell will go clang,
Eye on the target and wham
One shot, one gun shot, and BAM
Hey, Mister Armstein,
Here I am!
I’ll march my band out,
I will beat my drum,
And if I’m fanned out,
Your turn at bat, sir,
At least I didn’t fake it.
Hat, sir, I guess I didn’t make it.
Get ready for me, love,
’cause I’m a commer,
I simply gotta march,
My heart’s a drummer.
Nobody, no, nobody
Is gonna rain on my parade!

My greatest fault (I have many) is that I am a perfectionist. I don’t want to say anything unless I amaze the room.  And I never do.  I can’t imagine believing that I had the right to fly – and that I simply have to.  In order to fly, much preparation would need to take place, and many people would need to approve. But this is B.S.

This is all an excuse as to my I haven’t posted my NIAW post yet.  I want to amaze the room with my words, but the truth is: I probably won’t.  I don’t have the golden voice of Lea Michele.  I don’t have the warrior spirit of Keiko.  I have not the eloquence of Stirrup Queens.  Or Stumbling Grace.

But, I’ve realized, that’s OK.  I don’t have to be perfect in order to take my turn at the bat. And yes, that’s a clue as to what my NIAW post will be about.

My Twitter Addiction, er, Problem

I’m having a post-vacation let-down.  Being back home, watching the kids without Darcy and restaurant meals: I ain’t gonna lie. I miss that golden family time already.  I also really enjoyed connecting with silver and golden friends, but now that I’m back, I’m reminded how isolating my day-to-day life is.

And that most of the people I see in person regularly bring me down.

Enter Twitter.

On Twitter, it’s a virtual Round Table at the Algonquin. You can try to trade quips with literary heroes and your favorite bloggers.  Of course, at this table I am the dullest, smallest piece of dust on the oaken plank.  But at least I’m there.

My silly tweet about Peggy Orenstein, whose memoir about infertility, “Waiting for Daisy” was my bible when I was going through IVF. This tweet was about “Cinderella Ate My Daughter”, which I have written about before.

…and yet I know somewhere Peggy Orenstein is shaking her head in frustration.#cinderellaatemydaughter—
Too Many Fish to Fry (@2manyfish2fry) April 23, 2011

She responds! Squee!

@2manyfish2fry About what? I try to do lots of deep-breathing, actually….—
Peggy Orenstein (@peggyorenstein) April 25, 2011

Tweets also act as a way to foster advocacy: many tweets remind others about causes like NIAW.  I think Twitter was probably the main reason PETA backed down.

Thank you, @PETA. Thank you for hearing the voice of the #infertility community.—
Keiko Zoll (@MiriamsHope) April 09, 2011

It’s also a huge time waster.

I finally watched "Inglorious Basterds" and I'm confused. Did it happen in a parallel universe? #idontgetit—
Too Many Fish to Fry (@2manyfish2fry) April 14, 2011

And procrastination vehicle extraordinaire.

Still haven't packed. Ate a bag of candy instead. #whatiswrongwithme—
Too Many Fish to Fry (@2manyfish2fry) April 20, 2011

I have a feeling that in a few years time, I may look back on my tweets as woefully as the abysmal, self-important journal I kept during my first trip to Europe. Sample entry: “The Louvre is an essential storage facility for art. But it certainly isn’t convenient as a visitor’s gallery.” *cringe* And yet, I don’t feel that way about my blog posts. I’m pretty pleased with them.

What do you think of Twitter? Friend or foe?

Blogging Awards! And, NIAW Preview

We returned from our trip to Disneyland mostly intact.  One of my favorite parts was meeting up with CookedHeads. She’s like the wisest, coolest sister I never had.  She had so many helpful pieces of advice, but I think my favorite was (and I’m paraphrasing): Life is Princess Borghese bath salts and the South Coast Plaza, but it’s also cheerios on the ground and dirty houses.  In other words, life is a beautiful mess.  I just love that.  She lives life joyfully every day, and she inspires me to let go of the negative voices that sometimes surround me and live life imperfectly, beautifully.

While I was gone, another one of my blogging heroes, Keiko from Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed awarded me a Stylish Blogger Award!  I think she has a rare gift with words, and she’s also a scrappy fighter for all of us IFers, so I am truly honored.  As part of the the “award ceremony”, I should share seven things about myself and pass on the award to fifteen other bloggers.  So prepare to be dazzled by some crazy Jjiraffe knowledge.

1. My dad was supposed to be with the press junket of reporters and government officials who went to Jonestown to investigate what was going on down there.  It was his tenth wedding anniversary, so he didn’t go.  Bad stuff happened.
2. In college I sold flowers in restaurants for one terrible night.  After going to three consecutive restaurants and being approached by the same creepy guy, I realized he was following me and I quit.  Please be nice to the ladies who approach you at your favorite cafes and ask you if you want to buy a flower. That’s a tough gig.
3. Also in college, I worked at a fancy Mexican restaurant.  They recycled the salsa.  Meaning, when your plate of partially finished salsa was taken away from your table, it was emptied into the big pot of salsa in the kitchen and served again to others.  And yes, I still eat chips and salsa in restaurants.
4. My favorite Winnie the Pooh character is Eeyore.
5. I love eating breakfast for dinner.
6. On my honeymoon, we went to Tanzania for a safari.  A leopard ate a gazelle outside our tent.
7. I once was the designated driver for a movie star’s wild night out, before he was a star.  It involved The Roxbury, the star acted like a total dorkus, and I was very unimpressed.  Now, he’s one of our very best actors.  Go figure.

In no particular order, here’s my Order of the Stylish Bloggers:

Bodega Bliss
Stumbling Gracefully
Second Hand Happiness
CookedHeads
Invisible Mother
As Good As It Gets
Somewhat Lower
Mommy Odyssey
Colours of Cattitz
Adventures of a Dam Engineer
Things Get If’fy
Chasing Rainbows
Write Mind, Open Heart
Fertility Challenged in Florida
Bloodsigns

Finally, I am trying to prepare something special for NIAW, and it’s going to be a big push.  I’ll give you the hint: I will be exercising skills I formerly used in my pre-children career.

Unoriginal Thoughts on Disney, Part One

So, Disneyland. The last time I was here I drove from my college on a free day, on a whim. I was twenty. Things have changed…

It really is a magical place. The level of detail is astounding. We took a train ride around the place to chill out from the rides, and one of the tunnels re-enacts the land of the dinosaurs! You can’t escape the magic.

The cast members were straight out of diva-land. I loved them. They had their own shuttle, hang-out areas and were in their element. Overheard phone conversation: “Did he not like the bird? I can lose the bird.”

It does seem to be the land of the fertile. One woman at the Best Western asked me, “Do you want four kids?” Her kids were misbehaving, you see. Can we ban that joke, like, forever?

I read “Cinderella Ate My Daughter” and agreed with so many of Peggy Orenstein’s points. I don’t encourage the princess phase, in fact, my daughter has never heard of Cinderella. (She kept asking me who she was, she’s quite prominent in the land of Walt.) I do like “Alice in Wonderland” and she wore her Alice costume to the park. She’s never been so noticed and many adults and children approached and told her she was beautiful, which made me both anxious and proud.

There is something so wholesome about Disneyland. You see these guys with shaved heads, fully tattooed, gently lifting their sons into the Dumbo flying ride, and I witnessed a hard-faced, downtrodden- looking teen smile with pure joy as she got into the Indiana Jones jeep. The park appeals to our better angels. I love that.

Are you a fan of the Disney resorts? What do you like and dislike about them?

What’s Happening, Now: The Herb Caen Edition

People from the Bay Area may remember the late, great columnist Herb Caen. He was a colleague of my Dad’s and a San Francisco institution.  He would write about news, gossip, fun facts and lively happenings in a dot dot dot style. So, here is my unworthy tribute to him:

Spent the morning with the delightful Esperanza, of Stumbling Gracefully fame. She and her adorable daughter joined us for bagels, lox and Diet Coke. Esperanza’s new blog, about her year of buying only second-hand goods, is sure to mesmerize readers. Follow her journey as she attempts to live a life of Second Hand Happiness…Have you ever wondered about the monetary costs of adoption and infertility treatments? Lavender Luz and Baby Smiling in the Backseat are hosting an enlightening series of articles, called the “Dollars and $ense of Family Building”. The series features first-hand accounts of the monetary pains of the ALI community from many different viewpoints: foster-to-adopt, surrogacy, open adoption, IVF (both in the US and abroad) and foreign adoption. These articles opened my eyes to the high costs of fertility treatments in the US, and the low cost of treatments in countries like France…Obama, Big Insurance, can you help us out, here?…The elusive male point of view on infertility just got a lot less so, thanks to Hope To Be Daddy. Please read this post, it’s very illuminating.

Also Happening: Bodega Bliss’s upcoming trip to Brazil sounds fab (take photos, please!)…Colours of Cattiz is beginning her funded cycle (wish her luck!)…Bloodsigns wrote something worthy of The New Yorker (no surprise, if you’ve read her before)…Julie scared the crap out of everyone with her round-up of disturbing illustrations in books for children…A bunch of important bloggers went to a conference in New Orleans that sounded totally awesome (I was jealous)…NIAW is coming up. What are you going to do (or not do) about it?…On a somber note, Project Baby is having a very difficult time, please send hugs her way.

RIP, Mr. Caen. You are missed.

A Weighty Issue

I’ve recently discovered a unique fashion blog that I really love. It’s written by a fellow IF vet, and it’s called Danimezza.

I have, like most women, a complicated history with body image. I have very small bones, and am tall, which are ingredients for a body type passable for fashion. My hips are a bit wide, which is a problem area I attempt to mask. I went through a phase senior year of high school when I ate two things: light yogurt and a salad. I worked out every day for two hours. I weighed 110 pounds (at 5’8″), and was exhausted every day: it’s a miracle I got into university. My clique of friends all dieted extensively. At the senior cruise, one of friends almost died. She had become so thin that her blood pressure plummeted dangerously.

Once that happened, I decided to chuck the starvation plan. I ate normally but continued to work out. I gained ten pounds, but was still passably thin. Being skinny stopped being an obsession.  This lasted throughout my twenties, with a brief foray into dieting for my wedding day. (Which was stupid and unnecessary: I look too thin in the photos. My dress was a Vera Wang: I used to make a decent amount of money, and this was my one splurge on myself. I thought I had to be thin for the dress, because it was FASHION.)

When I started to go through infertility, the drugs I took added weight. I got into the high 130s. My friend, on a shopping trip, told me, “It’s OK! You’re not thin anymore, you’re just normal.” Ouch.  That day, nothing fit me well and my love for fashion died a bit.

I’ve always had mad love for fashion. In high school, I would cut out ads and editorials from Vogue and try to piece together my own version of a signature style: at that time it was California girl meets Bridgette Bardot. It was a bit weird: cut-offs with fancy flats, French twists with jeans and dressed-up t-shirts. Denimn shirts tied at the midriff with a polka dotted skirt.

Photo credit: By loungefrog (claudia) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Karl Lagerfeld once said: “Fashion is the best reason to diet.” Unfortunately, that stupid stereotype has remained with me, however: I thought fashion looked best on the thin.

In your thirties, I think most people have to work hard to be thin. Where once it was OK to work out regularly, now you have to also have to monitor your calories to stay within a range. With a few exceptions: the women trotted out as the “naturally thin”.  I just discovered that one of the “naturally thin” women I know eats a chocolate bar, then skips eating for two days.  She has help with her children.  If I attempted to watch the twins without eating food, very, very bad things would occur.

I have deplored the fact already that our bodies are supposed to be ornamental, not functional.  I am not advocating obesity or unhealthy eating habits, but I would like to wean society at large away from the actress moms who are supposed to be our body role models.  They don’t eat much, have help so they don’t have to do the heavy lifting of childcare and work out excessively.  Their job is to be thin.

Photo credit: By Captain Catan from Frankfurt am Main, Germany (ParisDay5 roll1 268) [CC-BY-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

As a SAHM, my job is NOT to be thin. It’s to be at the very top physical condition I can be in so I can do the physical tasks, discipline, food preparation, cleaning, reading, and being engaged in play.  Surprisingly, none of these things keep you thin.  So, I have given up the dream of being a skinny minny.

Back to Danimezza: what’s so inspirational and eye-opening about her blog, is that she is incredibly stylish and fashion-forward. She knows what fits and flatters her body, and she looks unbelievably put-together and fashionable. It’s a revelation: you can love fashion at any size, and look good in it.

So take that, Lagerfeld.

Do you agree that we don’t have to be thin for clothes to look good? Can all sizes look good with the right cuts and styles? Why are young women pressured to look like Jessica Biel and mothers pressured to look like the Gwyneth Paltrows of the world?  Is this all a bunch of nonsense because I am terrified about wearing a bathing suit in 3 days, in front of my friend who represents SELF magazine?

What Are Blogs For?

Darcy had a chat today with one of the big thinkers in the blogosphere about what blogging is and where it is going.

This guru said it is two things:

1. It’s a way of connecting with a like-minded community.
2. It’s a way to become an advocate or influencer about a topic you are passionate about.

I got the shivers when he told me this, as obviously the second point is one I have been pondering in depth.

But let me begin with the first point. In my boring, conformist suburban life, it’s doubtful I would have ever “met”:

1. A cool girl from Maine, who rocks the romantic look so hard, Rachel Zoe should be taking notes.  Girl is seriously stylish.
2. A yoga model, whose crow pose in the snow is crazy amazing.  Vote for her!
3. A children’s writer and illustrator, whose goal to not buy anything new for a year (except for necessities) rivals projects like “No Impact Man”.
4. A woman who in the last few months has met the President of the United States and published a best-selling book.
5. A local-food enthusiast who lives her activism by supporting local CSA farms and cooking drool-worthy healthy chow.
6. A stylish and clever SoCal lady who can walk in 5-inch heels on the hilly streets of San Francisco and writes like nobody’s business.
7. An acerbic, funny Canadian whose tart take on infertility should land her a book deal.
8. An Israeli filmmaker and writer of hilarious criticisms on the endless remakes in Hollywood.
9. A modern-day heroine taking on the Goliaths of infertility on our behalf: public ignorance, unfair insurance policies and the local and federal laws which don’t support us.
10. An advocate for children and champion of the bullied.
11. An Indian woman whose lofty career led her to meet top dignitaries in her country.

And then there’s Calliope, who I haven’t “met” but I just found out that she was in the music video for one of my favorite songs.

How cool are all of you? (And that list is cursory: everyone I’ve met seems to have an important and unique story.)

But beyond the “cool” factor, y’all GET IT. Like no one in my real life did.

So, deep, deep breath, it’s time to address the second reason people blog: advocacy and influence. I’m not a fighter like Keiko or an influential politico like Mel. I’m just little mousy me. Like so many people, I love the Harry Potter books. My favorite character is actually Neville Longbottom. J. K. Rowling makes a big, anvil-shaped point about the importance of bravery in the series. But Neville is a shy, awkward boy with none of the skills of Harry, brains of Hermione or guts of Ron.

Yet, spoiler alert, Neville too makes a significant contribution to knocking off Lord Voldemort.

I don’t mean to be grandiose, and I certainly respect those who don’t want to or can’t give their voices to the NIAW campaign (I agree with Mel: those who don’t speak are to be just as respected as those who do.) I am in a place many are not: I have children, thanks to infertility treatments. I finally feel up to facing those who don’t understand the pain and suffering the ALI community endure.

Darcy and I had a long discussion tonight: why do I care so much about infertility? Why am I not off bonding with the “mommy bloggers”? Why do I connect so much to the ALI community? The honest answer is “I don’t know.” But I do. So I’ve decided to lend my voice to the Resolve “Bust a Myth” campaign. I really hope not to get the “don’t repopulate the earth, you barren misfit, adoption-shunning jerk” comments. They will hurt, a lot. But if I do, I do. I’ll try to think of Neville, when he heard the Death Eaters belittling his poor parents, who were driven mad by their evil. But mostly of the brave, strong women and men who are unable to lend their unique voices, who are enduring hell on earth.

I’ll do it, because this community is so important to me. And we can fight and win. And so I’ll help, as best as I can.

Do you agree with the guru about what blogs are for? Why do you write your blog? Is the advocacy angle necessary to blogging?

Dang, THAT’S Neville?  He aged well.

Blogger/Blogspot Users: I Need Your Help!

If you are a blogger using Blogger or Blogspot and you’ve noticed that I’ve not posted on your blog, I’m so sorry. It’s not because I don’t want to.

Turns out, Blogger really doesn’t like my WordPress account. In fact, they get along about as well as Courtney Love and Billy Corgan. Or Courtney Love and a lot of people.

There is a way to fix it, but it has to be done by Blogger users. And I’m sorry to have to ask.

Can y’all add the “Name/URL” option on your comment box? Short of deleting this blog, seems to be my only answer.

Justine (A Half-Baked Life), Hope (Invisible Mother), A Dusty Uterus, and many others: there’s so much I want to say! I miss you guys

Thanks, and please let me know if you have any questions