


In a recent conversation, Lisa and I talked about the delicate balancing act required when writing about a topic that is deeply personal — one that has
wide-ranging impact and carries the power to reshape our sense of identity and the way in which we move forward in our lives.
Further complicating matters, we don't uniformly move in the same direction at the same time. Each of us on any given day, when we reflect on it, find ourselves at different stages when
coming to terms with infertility or childlessness. The recovery is non-linear. Lisa described (and later wrote about) watching a frog swim valiantly
and hard across a pond before resting and regrouping, and how it gave it her pause to reflect on her own journey.
We're often so caught up in trying to make sense of a complex experience that we can lose sight of the progress we've made. Not long ago I came to realize that I had in every
sense survived the trauma of infertility. Over time I had climbed out of the emotional quicksand. I now view infertility as something that happened to me.My
interest today lies in exploring the legacy — what it's taught me.
In a recent New York Times Magazine article on trauma, a reporter talks to two psyshologists at the University ...
"We are a scant few steps removed from the tribes of our hunter-gatherer ancestors, and a few ...<< MORE >>
One
of my longtime blog penpals once observed that women without children after infertility are extraordinary
— in large part because we have to examine ourselves, our relationships and our place in society in a way most ordinary people don't. Furthermore, we redefine and find our happiness
at a point in life when most people, busy raising kids, are on auto-pilot.That puts us much further ahead and able to roll with the changes that life inevitably throws at us...
That's where I left off in my comment to Mali who wrote a passionate post titled, "She has no children. She has nothing," in
response to two other equally heartfelt posts, one on Simply Inconceivable and one on Real Life & Thereafter.
Each ignited conversations and comments.
And that's a good thing because the more we (and I mean that to be all inclusive) hash ...
Strong, honest and profound friendships can be hard to come by in a fast-paced world characterized by
constant interruptions, overscheduling and lives shared in 140 characters or less. Sure, we can graze all day long but we often don't feel fully satisfied.
A hearty friendship feeds your soul. This weekend I feasted.
Friday night the lights twinkled on the Bay Bridge in San Francisco as I drove down the Embarcadero. Beneath the warm light of the Ferry Building slow-walking tourists mixed with locals racing by
in running gear. Just beyond the entry of a bustling restaurant and into a noisy bar I saw a friendly face scanning the crowd. My soon-to-be dinner companion knew what I looked
like, but I was operating at a disadvantage. While I knew some of her deepest thoughts I couldn't exactly hold up "B's" blog post and say, "is this you?" Her wave in my direction clinched
it.
What followed was a 4.5 hour meal that moved effortlessly from one story to another revealing a
kaleidoscope of overlapping experiences and emotions.To anyone nearby we appeared to be longtime friends animatedly catching up over edame, wine and fusion cuisine. Laughter tumbled easily.In
truth we had ...