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Anything But Ordinary

2012-02-05T02:41:32Z

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 out our thoughts and experiences the more we learn not only about ourselves, but about others.

This point was underscored recently during a panel discussion I attended on the campus of Stanford University called Ms. @ 40 and the Future of Feminism. Among those speaking were early editors of Ms. magazine: Marcia Ann Gillespie; Suzanne Braun Levine; and Helen Zia joined by newer feminist voices: Katherine Spillar; Miriam Zoila Perez; and Shelby Knox (perhaps best known as the subject of the Sundance award-winning film, The Education of Shelby Knox -- by all means rent it).

With this diverse set of life experiences on the dais were there differences in opinion? You bet. Have they encountered misunderstandings over time as a result of age, race, religion or sexual orientation? Uh, huh. Were there competing agendas? Hell, yes! And that, according to Ms. Braun Levine, was the nature of a Ms. magazine editorial staff meeting. Near the close of the panel, she observed that the audience had, in fact, "just witnessed an editorial meeting live."

The incongruities, all agreed, are what has kept Ms. edgy, provocative and not always in step with its readership.

Our readers often informed us, Ms. Gillespie explained, "their letters and phone calls pushed us forward."

You don't have to identify as a feminist to know that women have always found it difficult to agree. It's not just our age -- I was eight years old when the first issue of Ms. was available on the newsstands -- but our complex life experiences that shape our often differing views.

Each woman brought a unique perspective to the wide-ranging panel discussion, which prompted questions including, "How did we end up with Sarah Palin 40 years after the women's movement?" and "How do you explain the return to the extreme sexual objectification of women?"

I madly scribbled notes in the standing room only venue. (Note to self: don't wear heels and skirt to an event when you might have to sit on the floor.) During 90 minutes I enviously watched those in slacks seated around me in chairs and various floor openings while trying to write on top of a laptop wedged between the sound board/AV guy and the wall. Here are some of the comments I captured. Do any of these sentiments sound familiar?

"The stories I read made me feel less alone and more pissed off. Hearing your own pain and struggle in another woman's voice you realize you're not crazy or unreasonable. It's the world around you that is..."

"Other women's stories help us make sense of our own."

"Our tribes are necessary to define and defend who we are..."

What seemed to resonate most with me from the panel discussion and through the blog posts cited above is the obligation we all have "to bring stories to the people who are not living the experience."

That's what we in this extraordinary community, this tribe are doing with each blog post we write and share.

****
p.s. One other thing that struck me -- standing in that campus' humanities building surrounded by females ranging in age from 18-70 -- were the topics unbroached -- anything "mom." Zip. Nada. Zilch. It was amazing -- and refreshing. It was just plain nice in an era where "as a mom" seems to dominant (and, at times, divide) all conversations to feel included as a woman.

p.p.s. This post marks my blogoversary. Five years in the blogosphere, my dear Internets. And for those of you who are not familiar with Avril Lavigne's songwriting, you may find these lyrics from Anything But Ordinary particularly relevant:

To walk within the lines
Would make my life so boring
I want to know that I
Have been to the extreme
So knock me off my feet
Come on now give it to me
Anything to make me feel alive...

On Friendship and Hardship

2012-01-08T22:02:11Z

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 only exchanged blog posts and comments on and off over several years. Until that point a blinking cursor was as close as our pen pal-like relationship had gone.

Yes, we both speak English -- she from Australia and me from North America -- but we also speak another language. One that we learned in the heart of darkness, from shared hardship. There was no straining to understand, no awkward silence, no uncomfortable moments punctuating our conversation. The pauses, when they came, were thoughtful ones as we searched around, together, to find just the right word or emotion or answer. We could see into each other's heart.

We marveled at the ease with which we could laugh, ponder and reveal our secrets without fear of misunderstanding or judgment. We also talked about friendships and family ties damaged or lost along the way. The anger. The sadness. The unspoken words. The strange isolation that accompanies a loss or suffering others don't know how to interpret -- either because they lack the capacity or because they can't muster the fortitude to tread into an unknown sometimes messy territory.

We came to these conclusions: Some people, despite our nudging, simply refuse to budge from engagement at the superficial level 24/7. (That's not to say that small talk and niceties don't have their place. They do). But when there is precious time to spare, there are a set of acquaintances, friends and family, we've observed, who can't or won't visit the underbelly of our lives --even if it's a quick reference simply to underscore that which has made us who we are now. In their presence we feel unfulfilled, incomplete.

While the avoidance behavior is more often the rule than the exception, there are those who have surprised us with their depth and insights. Who are these people, you ask? Other infertiles? Not necessarily.

Reproductive organs aside, we also belong to another cohort: Those who have a genuine desire to evaluate and learn from life's suffering and hardship, to crack the oyster and find pearls. (Whereas the first group is all about burying the oysters.)

In this second cohort is where I spent time Saturday. After I completed the required instructions to combat a nagging respiratory affliction, and my friend of 20 years found a sitter for her children, we embarked on a slow-paced afternoon/evening of big girl fun. We indulged in reflexology, sampled a wine flight and managed to secure, without reservations, the last two seats in a cozy Italian restaurant where the pasta is made daily on site. Much like the night before the conversation ran the gamut.

Clearly our lives had taken very different paths, and over the years we've had some spirited discussions, at times talking past each other. But when I wasn't consumed with my own, I've watched her wrestle with a different set of demons, navigate a different set of hardships. Despite all we have experienced, together and separately, we always find the courage to hop into life's elevator and go down, deep, to explore. With flashlights in hand we uncover and share inner thoughts, question and challenge each other and come away fulfilled, validated. And we usually we see things a little more clearly and grow in the process.

Christina Gombar once addressed, this way, why some friendships lose their way:

"If you're happy being a planet orbiting around someone else's sun, good for you. But I find one-sided friendships as rewarding as unrequited love affairs, and as healthy. To me friendship is like a Siamese twin: the life blood must circulate through both bodies. When the spirit of one twin departs, the furiously working heart of the surviving twin cannot do all the work of keeping the other half alive; the joint life-force dies."

Friendships come in many shapes and sizes; the very best ones feed our souls.

Care to share when you've been starved or fed?

***

Editor's Note: A Fresh Start has received record traffic in the past month or so -- due mainly, I'm sure -- to the guest posts from New Zealand (Mali), Slovenia (Klara) and Virginia (Wendy). I'd also like to share a story from Ireland. You can read Jane's inspiring piece here.

An All Too Familiar “Waiting Game” Pays Off

2012-01-03T20:37:24Z

Editor's Note: A new year brings new beginnings, something we particularly relish here at A Fresh Start. One of the silver linings that accompanies infertility is the ability to redefine life on our own terms. As a result of our unrequited efforts we also learn to practice patience, accept ambiguity, and develop a keen sense of what makes us unique in a society that often overlooks those whose lives don’t conform. We develop and contribute our talents, gifts and contributions without mainstream adulation. Along the way, we also find that life holds many happy surprises -- something our latest guest blog contributor, Wendy, 39, makes abundantly clear.

I found Silent Sorority when I needed it most -- a few years ago when I struggled with my diagnosis of Premature Ovarian Failure/Primary Ovarian Insufficiency (POF/POI). I kept the book at my bedside for over six months before I read it. When I did, there were all my thoughts and feelings -- once a mash-up in my brain -- in black and white in Pamela’s book. I kept thinking, how did she sneak into my brain??? I had always wanted a child, always imagined myself as a mother. I couldn’t get past the feelings of brokenness, emptiness, and inadequacy. Yet her words validated everything I had been struggling with, and showed me that there is life after infertility…

Fast forward three years to December 2011, and I found myself immersed in the “waiting game”. Oh, it was so agonizing! My future could change depending on the answer. My daily routine, relationships with family and friends, my definition of self, could all be impacted in ways I could not envision. I was an answer away from knowing if one of my life’s goals might be achieved. The waiting was driving me crazy, and I felt almost immobilized – how could I commit to anything else, or even make plans, if I didn’t know the answer? My husband’s fate would also be determined by the answer; would he get what he’s wanted? Would he be 100% supportive, or worried at how this might change our lives? All this waiting, the months of doing all I can, then to have no success, only to try again. How did it get to this?

Then, I got the answer I’ve been dreaming of for the past seven months – YES!!!! I feel such success! I feel validated! I can finally put all those years of experience as a child development specialist to use. There is so much to do, so many things to prepare. All my work, all my sacrifice, it is paying off…. CONGRATULATIONS TO US!!!!

No, we are not having a child.

Funny how this is everyone’s first or second thought when someone announces they have good news to share, or they just found out something exciting, etc.

No, my husband and I have made the shift from seeing ourselves as childless, to childless by circumstance, to childfree by circumstance. I cannot say we are childfree by choice as we feel there was no choice to make. If we could have chosen, we would be parents, but fate intervened. We learned to accept fate.

Why do I say childfree vs. childless? Because childless implies I am incomplete, missing something, “less than” compared to others. Circumstance led us to be childfree -- without our own children living under our roof -- free to focus on who we are and what we want to do (for ourselves, for others) without the complications and responsibility a child might bring

This was NOT an easy journey. It was full of emotional potholes, with people along the way who tried to sabotage our journey to peace, with complications both real and brought to us by imaginary insecurities. I read Two Is Enough: A Couple's Guide to Living Childless by Choice by Laura S. Scott to learn more about those who made the choice to be childfree. I sought out people who were supportive. I found new friends in the childfree by choice community who helped us see the positives of changing our expectations of the future.

Over the past four years, I channeled my energies away from mourning my infertility into another love of mine – international education development, and traveling. Rather than taking on the responsibilities of specific children under my own roof, I decided to take on the responsibilities of improving access to and quality of education for any and all children.
I have been able to work in five countries in the past four years as a consultant, often leaving with a few weeks’ notice, without being encumbered by school schedules, dance lessons, sports games, etc.

So what has me so excited now? I know this coming year I will have a positive impact on countless children and their parents. I reached my goal and won a staff position with an international education organization. The waiting game led to the offer. It is a one year position, but it is another step upward in the right direction for me. My husband is thrilled, and can’t wait to go with me. Are we nervous about the insecurity a year from now? Yes, but it is lessened since we have fewer responsibilities than parents.

My message is this: it may take longer to get to your destination, but as long you continue in the direction you want to go, you will get there.

p.s. If, like Wendy, you have you a story you'd like to share here on A Fresh Start, email Pamela ptsigdinos(@)yahoo (dot) com.

The Best Gift: Rediscovering Zest

2011-12-24T21:45:48Z

I realize I'm a bit premature talking up the New Year when 2012 is still a week away. We got a head start by celebrating the winter solstice December 21 with champagne. How can you not look ahead and start making plans with the days getting longer?

That's not all. I've had a series of odd dreams. In one I was a candidate for a new position -- for what exactly wasn't clear, but I awoke with a clear message: something different is waiting for me to find it.

I've also had some time to reflect and reconnect the past few weeks -- laughing more than I have in a long time. During one free afternoon, I all but bounded down a town street, carefree, with a dear old friend. We engaged in an animated conversation, the two of us bursting with energy, positively impish as we egged each other on with our harebrained ideas.

It is invigorating to know, in my late 40s, that I can feel that sort of enthusiastic. Not unlike when I was a slip of a thing on a birthday eve -- finding it all but impossible to fall asleep -- for all the excitement I anticipated turning ... say 10. Or when I was facing my last day of school in sixth grade. I knew that the summer awaited, with day camp, a Lake Michigan vacation with my family, and long, hot nights spent playing with my friends until the street lights came on. Or when I arrived at college, eagerly choosing classes and wondering what new adventures lay ahead on campus. Each new day came full of promise.

That zest for living, that sense of gusto and anticipation has been rekindled. It's the best gift of all. This is what has me excited about 2012.

I'm not the only one who has rediscovered zest. I recently received another inspiring guest blog post. (You will have to wait until just after the new year to read her story.) Meanwhile, I'll have the honor of meeting another wonderful woman, a longtime blog pal from Australia, who will be visiting San Francisco in early January after an adventure through Columbia and Costa Rica.

And romance! There's a new dimension of zing for Mr. T. and me. We've never been in such great shape physically. We are hatching plans, sketching out new adventures -- from a trip to South America that might lead us to take a samba dance class to exploring parts of the U.S. long on our list of places to see. Whoever said kids have all the fun simply wasn't looking hard enough for it.

Happy, Merry, one and all!

The Next 15,000 Days

2011-12-13T16:36:43Z

It isn't often that you meet someone and instantly feel a bond. Our next guest blog contributor and I found each other across many miles. We have corresponded as penpals for several years, but only met face to face a few months ago in a heavenly place called Bled, Slovenia. It was like meeting an old friend for the first time. Our shared six-foot height aside, she and I have seen eye to eye and heart to heart from the beginning. Fortunately, for those of us who don't speak Slovenian, Klara speaks English (as well as Italian and German) with ease. She agreed to share her story in English. Here it is:

The last few years were really hard. We had 10 failed IVF treatments in five clinics in three countries. We had our hearts broken for a million times. We were so sad for all of our embies who didn't have enough strength to live more than a few days.

We had the last treatment in autumn and it was the hardest because of all the increased drugs the doctors prescribed me. I had so many horrible side effects that I made a promise to myself: if the side effects go away I will never ever take any infertility drug again. Luckily, the side effects went away after two months, and I am sticking to the promise I made myself.

I know one may ask, why so many treatments?

The explanation is simple. For me, till now, it was always easiser to endure all the physical pain compared to the pain I had to go through when I faced the decision to stop trying and to embrace a childfree life. In my country (Slovenia) we have six IVF treatments completely free of charge. So, many women just jump from one treatment to another without even taking a break or thinking of the side effects that all the drugs can leave.

With the help of our computer I was playing with numbers a bit. Just a few days before Christmas we will celebrate 3,000 days since our wedding day. Our first 3,000 days were mainly sad. Of course, there were also lots of great things. The greatest was that I realized I married the love of my life; all the pain brought us even closer together. If we are lucky, another 15,000 days are waiting for us. So, we decided to start living a new, happy life. We lost, already, enough days being sad. We just don't want to lose another day.

Christmas is coming, and for the first time in years I am actually looking forward to it. Our capital, Ljubljana, is already in Christmas lights. It is beautiful! And Winter solstice is nearing -- when the night is the longest and the darkest. After it ... the dark gets shorter and the day gets longer.

I like this symbolism a lot.

I began a list of all the positive things that my new decision brings. Some are important, some are small ... but everything helps.

I don't have to save money for the next treatment. This December I enjoy spending money. For books on BookDepository. For movies with my husband. For enjoying delicious cakes in cozy coffee shops with my friends.
I don't have to save free days at work for future treatments. I have 10 days off from work around Christmas and New Year. For the first time since we married we are spending New Year's Eve abroad. Can't wait!
They are downsizing in the company where I work. It will be clear within weeks if me and my coworkers will be made redundant or not. Coworkers with kids worry so much. But I do not. I am not responsible for anybody else so I can afford not to earn anything for a while. And I don't mind finding another job even if far away from home. Being childfree gives me flexibility.
It is our busy season at work now. My coworkers with kids are always so nervouse at four, the high time, when they leave the office and pick up their kids in kindergarden. I realized it is quite nice -- always to be able to finish work without the pressure of time.
We started to dream about our next holidays. Our favorites so far are: Malaysia; Japan; Australia; USA; Canada. We love traveling so much!

What was (or is) on your list of positive things for the period when you started a New Life? All ideas welcome! They will help me and the others who read Pamela's blog. Lots of love from sLOVEnia, Klara

Editor's note: I found Klara's depiction of looking beyond the darkness inspiring. The idea that many thousands of days await us makes me all the more committed to living each day better than the last.
p.s. One of the other many things I learned from Klara -- as her signature above demonstrates --is that Slovenia is the only country with the word "love" in it. If this beautiful "Ex-Yu" country is not on your list of destinations, it should be.

The Secret to Happiness is...

2011-12-07T01:36:10Z

...not having what you want, but wanting what you have.

That's just one of the many lessons our latest guest contributor has gleaned over the course of 49 years. Mali, a New Zealand-based blogger -- a self-described kiwi -- writes on a variety of topics. Here, in her words, is how she arrived at her fresh start.

~~~

I didn’t always want children. I know that’s not the typical confession from someone who has dealt with infertility, but I married young, and resisted and resented the almost immediate pressure I felt to have children. I was in a new exciting world where women had a choice. I was insulted by the inference that my biology would decide my place in the world, not my own thoughts, decisions, and talents. My husband was a little more traditional, but he also knew who he had married -- that I could only have children when I was ready. I spent many years brushing off unwanted questions about when we were going to have children, building up a persona of the career woman who wasn’t interested in having children.

It wasn’t just about the career though.

I thought it was important to have children when I was ready, and not before. I wanted to be a mother who was fully present for her children, not resentful of her stolen youth. I also wanted to feel the maternal urge. So I waited. At times I wasn’t sure it was going to arrive, but it ambled up to me in my mid-30s. By the time I first conceived, I was in its full grip. Whether it was simply biology (hormones and that ticking clock), my own natural wishes at the right time, or peer pressure … I don’t know and will never know.

But I do know I genuinely wanted to be a mother.

Of course, as is obvious now, it is not that easy. A long story short: after two ectopic pregnancies and later, two failed IVFs, I knew I would never have children. I got the news on my 41st birthday. I’ve had better birthdays.

Coming to terms with the news was not easy. In retrospect, the persona I’d built up in the early years of my marriage – that I didn’t want children – protected me as I dealt with the realisation that I would never be a mother. But still, it was hard. At first, the truth of my situation hit more and more deeply. Each time I thought “when I have a baby” or “my children will ...” the pain hit anew.

I wouldn’t be having a baby. My children would never ... And this got worse before it got better, like punching a bruise that is already tender. But it did get better. Gradually I realised that punching the bruise was pointless. My brain trained itself not to think about the babies I didn’t have, would never have. My brain stopped me thinking of myself as a mother.

This took time. But the good minutes, then hours, then days, then weeks, came more frequently. At times I fought against it, feeling guilty that – on the good days – I was not grieving enough. I wondered, if I didn’t continue to grieve and mourn the life I thought I would have, then maybe that meant I didn’t really ever want it ... or if it meant I was upset simply because I didn’t get what I thought I wanted. I wondered if my pain was fake. I wondered if I didn’t really have permission to feel pain ... if, in fact, I deserved what had happened.

Of course, now I look back and know my grief and pain was legitimate. But still, the recovery process itself made me feel guilty.

Back in the early days, immediately after my ectopic losses, I felt the power of joy, even with something as simple as a joke on a sit-com, or the warmth of the sun on my back, a favourite song, or sitting looking out at the sea and a blue sky. Grasping joy as it came, even when it was fleeting, was what healed me.

Healing is a gradual process. I gradually realised that endless sadness would not serve me well.

I realized, too, that feeling happy was not a betrayal, either of my lost babies, or of mine and my husband’s dreams. Feeling happy with my life did not mean I didn’t want children enough, or that I didn’t grieve enough.

In fact, I felt strongly that I needed to be happy, to live well, in order to honour my losses, my pain. I still do. And so I guess I made the choice to be happy.

I didn’t come to this insight over night. It took time. I read books written by those who had gone before me, and – on an internet forum I frequented (and that had saved my soul in my darkest days of loss) I, in turn, shared my experiences with those who came after me. Helping them, responding to their raw grief, even whilst I was still healing myself, showed me how far I had come, and gave me insight into my own healing. Learning to find happiness, and value, out of what I had been through helped me make sense of my loss. Over a couple of years, I was able to let go of the guilt.

Letting go of guilt opened up the world to me. I was able to take joy in the aspects of my life that wouldn’t be possible if I had children. I was able to read (and believe) research that promised that those of us without children would be able to have a happy life, and a happier old age. I realised that I may not have got what I wanted, but that’s not always a bad thing. I learned the secret of happiness is not to have what you want, but to want what you have.

And I am happy. I have a good life. No, a great life! I’m still basking in the memories of six weeks in Turkey and Europe. I couldn’t have done that with kids. I’m so much more in touch with myself now, my emotions, my talents and yes, even my flaws. I suspect age has something to do with that. But I also think that my infertility and loss has tempered me, forged me into who I am today, someone who is wiser, kinder, more compassionate, more realistic, and yet more optimistic too; someone who is contented, happy. Someone I like.

* * *

You can read more about Mali's life without children on her blog No Kidding in NZ. She also blogs on A Separate Life (http://aseparatelife.wordpress.com) and Travelalphablog(http://atozoftravel.wordpress.com).

What's Your Litmus Test?

2011-12-01T17:00:42Z

The "why" didn't fully dawn on me until I was in the final burst of packing for a Thanksgiving family visit.

Our direct flight was just under an hour and half. The destination: a picturesque part of the country, home to the world's largest international independent film festival, a former winter Olympic site, and some of most breathtaking national parks on the planet. Our relatives, peers in age and interests and genuinely warm and lovely people, had lived there since 1998.

There was only one reason why it had taken us 13 years to arrange a proper visit. The why was so large and obvious as to be the elephant in the room.

Our trip would involve spending several days in one of the largest child-centered cultures in the U.S. -- the greater Salt Lake City region.

How did it go? Surprisingly well. In fact, I'm chuffed to say that I didn't break a sweat or find my dander rise even when the local hotel where we'd book a room, with its complimentary breakfast, was over-run with toddlers cooing over waffles, or when two new BFFs earnestly set up a Candy Land board game at the base of the one and only coffee station, or when I found myself in the midst of parents swapping stories about the upcoming holidays and plans to entertain their kids. If this was some sort of test, I passed it with flying colors.

Rather than feeling like I had to mask what has always felt like the equivalent of an "I" tattooed on my forward, I was at ease. As our trip came to a close, I found myself looking forward to a future visit -- one where we could indulge in new discoveries in and around the area.

It's not as though I achieved any sort of superhuman feat, but it did in some ways feel like I'd successfully arrived at the end of a marathon. Along the way I put some former infertility demons in their proper place -- the past.

Now, what's your litmus test?

Gratitude Inventory: Freedom, Romance and Much More

2011-11-20T18:07:04Z

The leaves on our trees have reached crimson in their last best performance before taking their inevitable fall. Holiday ads are proliferating. I've just gathered all the canned goods and non-perishables we're not going to consume any time soon for the local food drive. The days are growing ever shorter. The Detroit Lions (yes, I remain a hometown fan) are gearing up for their annual Thanksgiving Day football match.

It seemed only right and proper to partake in a gratitude inventory. In no particular order, here are just some of the many, many things I'm thankful for...

Sleep -- the really good, uninterrupted, restful kind
Living in a country where girls can grow up to realize their full potential
Jon Stewart and The Daily Show
Coffee
Watching the Michigan Wolverines with my best guy
Spontaneity and the freedom to move in new directions
Documentary film producers, along with the writers, production teams and performers at HBO, Showtime, AMC who continually turn out great original programming
Good health (yikes, now I know I'm well into middle age -- I didn't much notice my health in earlier years)
High thread count sheets
A really good effortless hair day
Slovenia, and my online bloggie pal (now BFF), who made visiting this gem of a country earlier in the year an unforgettable, delightful adventure
Whoever invented meatloaf
The therapeutic effects of a deep belly laugh
Friends and family who not only enrich my life but patiently put up with my idiosyncrasies
Romantic, cozy wine bars
The Internet and the way it opens up new ideas and new connections around the world

Now, your turn...

Someday, We’ll Look Back on This, Laugh Nervously, and Change the Subject

2011-11-09T18:28:03Z

You might think this blog title was my response after a recent mainstream media interview that led to the headline, Infertile and Proud ...

But, there's some part of me that doesn't want to change the subject. What I'd like instead is to get beyond the nervous, uncomfortable awkwardness, the sense of being accountable somehow for why I don't have children. As I said in the article, there are many shades of gray when it comes to a person's family status. Just for kicks, imagine with me what it would be like if parents regularly faced the question "why do you have children?" Wouldn't it be a hoot to see how that conversation would go down?

You might say we've been inoculated against the idea that there's more than one hunky dory way for life to unfold. Since we're inundated with glowing messages about motherhood and fatherhood, encouraged to conform, to go with the herd, it's not surprising that we're scrutinized when we don't. Fortunately, there are those willing share their stories and expand the universe of thinking. They'll come in a series of guest posts from around the world -- all the better to illuminate the many paths where life can take us. The first comes from Jody in London.

***

Jody Day is the Founder of Gateway Women (UK): an organization to support, inspire and empower childless & childfree women to live fertile, passionate, meaningful lives. If you're anywhere close to London you can join her Nov 16 at a session called, Forty, Single & Childless, Dammit! Now happily post-fertile, and having made the bumpy transition from ‘childless’ to ‘childfree’ (and definitely not a weirdo!) she will share her own experience, and encourage you to explore yours.

She's given permission to share, in this guest post, some of her recent thoughts.

Have you ever stopped to question why you want (or wanted) a baby so much?

Do you find the question shocking? Taboo even?

Well, I didn’t question it. And because I avoided this level of deep introspection, I failed to realise that I spent fifteen years of my life chasing a dream based partly on the premise that someone or something would make me feel fulfilled, content, satisfied, real, right, good… I thought a baby, a family, a home, what Zorba the Greek calls ‘the full catastrophe’ – was going to make me feel whole dammit! Yes, I loved my husband insanely-much and the idea of a little bundle of our combined DNA made me go weak at the knees, but there was more going on than that…

But god forbid anyone who tried to tell me! I just didn’t want to know. Stuck my fingers in my ears and sang la la la. I stayed in the tunnel and put off thinking about ‘why’ I’d chosen to made the nuclear family my own personal holy grail. Refused to accept ‘what is’, as Bert Hellinger says.

Yes, there was a biological clock, and boy did it tick. But would I really have heard it quite so loudly had I been listening to my soul instead?

What would things have been like for me if instead of neglecting my dreams, my passions, my friends, my work, my finances (and, quite often, my common sense) during that time I’d focused on creating a life without children, whilst still remaining open and excited about the possibility that one day I might become a mother? Why did I get stuck on this one outcome, mostly out of my control, rather than take a saner, broader view of things?

Because even as the facts continued to pile up against me, the fantasy endured. And let’s face it, as a woman with long-term unexplained infertility issues, just out of the wreckage of sixteen-year marriage and watching 40 recede gently in the rear-view mirror, things were not promising in the maternity stakes!

But no. Common sense is no match for denial. And if a bit of reality ever did threaten to break through, my girlfriends usually closed it down fast with a quick, “Don’t worry. You’ll be OK. Stay positive! You’ll meet the right man / have IVF / get pregnant without even realizing it”… etc, etc. And then there were the miracle baby stories… at least I had company in my denial! Some of these stories made the stork sounds positively rational! It seemed that collectively, none of my female friends wanted me to face up to my situation.

When I started to break the taboo and began talking about the possibility that it might not work out for me, that I might not have children, it was as if I’d let off a fart bomb… women took a step back. Somehow, my honesty stank, as if my fate, my childlessness, might actually be catching…

These days, having fully come to terms with the fact that I’ll never have a child, I can see that one of the reasons I didn’t even want to entertain the possibility that I might not have a family was that it would also have meant facing up to an absence of a viable Plan B. I’d stopped dreaming my life into being. The words of a friend who was one of the first to have a baby used to ring in my ear: “Since I had her, I don’t have to wonder what my life’s about anymore.” That sounded pretty good to me; an existential get-out-of-jail-free card. These days, I’m not so sure she’s right, and I imagine that perhaps in another decade or so when the children have all grown up, she, and other parents, may find that such thoughts are waiting for them on the other side.

With the benefit of hindsight, I can see that I got very vague about my life goals in my 30s as a response to my ex-husband’s sad spiral down into addiction – and that I chose to blame some of that unhappiness and confusion on my biological clock. Somehow, because I couldn’t look into the future and see, with certainty, that I would be a mother (living with an addict, you can’t predict what’s going to happen by teatime) I decided I had a 100% cast-iron guaranteed reason to ditz around in my life and wait for a baby to come and clear this whole mess up. I took my foot off the gas. I got lost.

Now, at 47 and having made peace with my destiny and got back into the driving seat of my life, I often meet single women around the age of 40, still hopeful of having a family, and yet strangely unwilling to talk about their own dreams, their own lives. Intelligent, educated, hard-working, emotionally intelligent women – yet they seem to be living like wombs-in-waiting – a vacancy where their ambition and passion used to be. Now, I’m not for a minute saying that wanting to be a mother is NOT an ambition, not a dream… but where has the rest of them gone?

I wonder if these women feel, unconsciously, that allowing themselves to dream their non-family related dreams is somehow going to put the kibosh on having a family?

But ask yourself this, if you were a man, and you met a single, vibrant woman in her late-30s following her passion for taming sloths, writing poetry, singing, designing mazes, running for office, meditation, raising hawks, rescuing dogs, car-boot sales, running marathons, keeping bees, sky-diving, blogging, tap-dancing, saving the planet, coding, writing detective fiction, growing petunias, fencing or thrash metal… wouldn’t you prefer to spend an evening with her than with a falsely-cheerful, dolled-up ‘date’ who drinks ever-so-slightly too quickly and needs to know your views on starting a family by the second date?

There’s nothing as attractive as someone who respects their dreams enough to follow them. Children are indeed a blessing, but they are here to fulfill their dreams, not ours.

Free To Be You and Me

2011-09-23T02:36:12Z

I'm not sure what possessed me to write it. Was it my cumulative annoyance at People magazine for devoting so much editorial real estate (for instance every week!) to celebrating all aspects of parenthood (hey - how about some equal time, People editors)? Was it the veiled tone of pity, the whiff of judgment, or the implication that there is only one happy ending to the infertility story?

But write I did, and I'm glad for what came next...

Dispatch from "hell:" It's not all bad became an Open Salon Editor's Pick and made the "cover" for two days, with thousands of views and nearly a 100 Facebook Likes at last count.

Speaking of Facebook, the Silent Sorority Facebook page also generated a good response -- and some nurturing comments, along with more of the same on another password protected site. Here's an excerpt from that forum:

"I found it really refreshing to read something that is about celebrating and affirming life, after one has been forced to reconsider how to live it. I love that you rejected labels and divisiveness. What I took from your blog post was the idea that we all have our own unique paths, and no one choice can make you a "hero" or a "goat." It is up to each of us as people to dig deep and come out of this experience better, stronger and more compassionate."

YES! Bingo! That's exactly the message I wanted readers to take away. The essay also prompted an email exchange between me and my mother who had this to say:

"I've never understood why people automatically think that because a couple doesn't have a child of their own, they will, of course, adopt. It's like expecting a man or woman who never married to become a priest or a nun. Becoming an adoptive parent is a calling, just like the religious life. Not every unmarried person is drawn to religious life, nor does every woman without her own child want to adopt. I don't mean to equate the religious life with being an adoptive parent; just that adoption should not be considered the default position for everyone. It was good that you pointed out that there is another side."

Well said, Mom, (and thanks, as always for your support -- and for taking the time to reflect with me).

I also found this comment on Open Salon refreshingly honest:

"As the father of an in vitro child, I can relate to the pain of infertility. As the father of an in vitro child who is now a stay-at-home 23 yr-old, I can also attest that parenthood is no bed of roses either. Parenthood, like marriage, is far-too romanticized in our culture. Baby's -- from a distance -- are irresistible, and I suspect that was part of God's plan for peopling this planet. And no doubt it is a great pleasure watching your child grow -- up to a point. But as I've said here many times, if the second ten years came first, there would be no second children."

Perhaps, though, what I found most encouraging (and, yes, surprising) was the willingness exhibited by all who engaged in various discussion to be open-minded, supportive and non-hostile. This may be the first time I've witnessed such good behavior on a topic that usually devolves into name-calling and second-guessing. Have we reached a new level of civility? I sure hope so!

Vive la difference!

Two Movies, One Gets it Right

2011-08-28T21:11:05Z

Much has been written about The Help -- the book and the movie.

The book contents remain locked in my iPad; I downloaded it several months ago but lacked the urgency to tap it open. The movie prompted a different response. I made a point of carving out 146 minutes to lose myself in the film after the August 10 opening sparked new debates about character authenticity and raised questions about who is best equipped to tell the complex stories of women living in a turbulent and racially charged time in American history.

Among the many commentaries I read about the film was this assessment by Chicago attorney and writer Kimberly Egonmwan. She makes a strong closing statement:

"We want to be seen as we are: women who are at the foreground of our own lives, and not in the background of someone else’s."

Imagine my surprise when, after the depiction of societal oppression and civil rights struggles that brought me into the theater, I walked out identifying most directly with a background character.

Celia Foote is a young woman lost in a society that values everything she is not. She lived in a time when well-bred Southern white women were expected to marry well and have babies -- lots of them -- raised by "the Help." Celia is not well bred, but she does have a heart of gold and unexpectedly marries well when she gets pregnant. In time we learn that Celia carries a painful secret -- an inability to stay pregnant -- something she initially hides from everyone, including her husband.

Among the many scenes in this well-acted film that brought tears to my eyes was the one where Celia is openly shunned by vicious white women who refuse to allow her into their living room and their society. They leave her on the porch, as she describes "like a vacuum cleaner salesman."

While her infertility wasn't the reason she was left on the outside looking in, I felt her alienation viscerally.

I was also struck by the fact that, in the end, Celia had the only marriage that was genuinely happy.

Infertility in the 1960s was only a footnote in The Help, but it jumped off the screen for me, as it usually does. Not surprisingly, it's one of many lenses through which I see society -- past, present and future.

Coincidentally, earlier in the weekend, the film, Immediate Family, concerning a subject I know intimately, came to our TV screen. Made at the end of the 1980s, this film offered a weirder view -- bad hair and all -- of infertility. It was produced by Lawrence Kasdan of The Big Chill acclaim, which is, no doubt, how it made it into our Netflix queue in the first place.

The movie certainly put infertility front and center ... but something about the inauthenticity of the protagonists, the melodrama, and the clunky bias of the times led us to fire the film midway into our viewing. I learned afterward that the Immediate Family screenplay wasn't written by a woman who experienced infertility. It was penned by someone who was "struck that so many of her friends who had waited until their mid-3Os to have children were encountering difficulties."

Curious that two different films shot in two different eras could portray a timeless experience in such startlingly different tones, but it was the film where infertility played a cameo role that hit the mark.

Happy T(w)ogether, Thank You Very Much

2011-08-07T17:32:49Z

In the category of inflammatory headlines posed as a question here's one from a self-described "journalist, mother, thinker" that begs a response: Are Childless Couples Headed Toward Divorce?

The short answer from my field research is an emphatic: Hell No!

The link to the provocative Huffington Post blog headline first came from a longtime pen pal who wrote me with this observation:

"[this] absurd article rambles and makes no particular point. Is it saying that more non-childed couples divorce than childed couples do BECAUSE they are childless or because, if they realize things aren't working they don't have to stay together 'for the children'? Is it saying that childed couples are happier (or not) than unchilded couples? Is it saying that couples who 'wait too long' to have children tend to divorce because of infertility struggles?"

Next in my inbox was this assessment from Christina:

"I think this is just another Mom pumping up her world view again. I know so many people who got married just to have a baby, suffered terrible marriages -- some divorced, some are still together in misery. I think it makes them feel better to imagine that childless couples are worse off, but we're not. If you have to convince yourself that your lifestyle is the way to go, and have nothing better to do than broadcast social theories to this affect, 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much.' "

Those who have followed my story will know that my husband and I fit into the group of couples who pursued parenthood early and often with dogged determination (in other words, we are not -- to use the term in this piece -- "postponers"). We instead are part of the large and often silent population of couples who, despite not being "too old" and following repeated fertility treatment, found out that biology and science don't always lead to successful pregnancy and delivery.

Did our infertility experience test our marriage? Damn right it did, but it also made our relationship stronger, not unlike this quote: "the strongest steel is forged by the fires of hell."

Readers of the HuffPo piece would never arrive at the conclusion that couples who have weathered infertility -- and don't go on to parent -- could have happy, fulfilled marriages. Rather the takeaway from this piece is that the majority of couples who face infertility trials part ways as a matter of course. Infertility + Marriage = Divorce.

Are there some marriages that falter in the wake of infertility? Yes, but it is not the sole reason why the relationship ended. To the contrary, I've seen couples who were unhappy before becoming parents have children as a way to glue together a relationship that was doomed to failure. In the end, they divorced despite having children together.

My experience tells me that life after infertility treatment purgatory can result in a deeper devotion. And I'm far from alone. The past few years, online and in person, I've come to know hundreds of loving couples around the world who are not raising children.

The past two weeks, in particular, traveling thousands of miles across three countries offered still more firsthand evidence that couples without children share a deep connection with each other. The common denominator of the couples joining my husband and me -- hailing from the pragmatic metropolis of Stuttgart, Germany, the glittering city of Zurich and a medieval town in Slovenia -- was a relationship marked by playfulness, romance and commitment.

Too often childless couples are held up as deficient, and this HuffPo piece only serves to reinforce that stereotype. There are many couples who elect early and decisively not to have children. But for those who experience infertility, society's prejudice -- that parenting is absolutely essential to self-actualization -- does nothing to ease the transition from attempting to have children to moving forward in life as a family of two.

A research paper, "Does Having Children Create Happiness?," highlights several studies that reinforce the prejudice and stigma associated with childlessness:

"Couples without children have been looked down upon by their counterparts for
years. Childless couples are often seen as unfortunate and unhappy. Ali, L. 2008"

Less publicized, however, is the conclusion of the author's paper:

"Children do not increase life satisfaction for their parents, and in fact serve to hamper parental happiness. While the positive implications regarding having children hold true, there exist positive implications for those who remain childless as well."

Unlike in some relationships where the focus is squarely on the children -- to the exclusion of all else -- we families of two can focus on our mutual needs and happiness.

Editor's Note: If you'd like to get a richer insight into the experiences of couples without children, please check of my better half's vivid, lively and well-told tale of our trip to Slovenia. It's a part of the world most know little to nothing about, but should. After you read this essay you'll add a new country to your list of places to visit.

Good Times Where You Least Expect Them

2011-07-09T16:46:51Z

"It was like going to a party you're terrified of, and finding out to your amazement that you're having a good time."

That's how Betty Ford, who passed away today at 93, described her life in the White House during one of the most turbulent times in U.S. history. I was only 10 years old when she became First Lady. I didn't fully appreciate, until I was older, how much she influenced my life. She didn't shy away from her struggles, she talked openly about them.

As I read some of the coverage about her life this morning I realized we shared a few things in common: both of us were born in Michigan; both had dreams of lives that didn't quite turn out the way we hoped; both of us talked openly about taboo topics (breast cancer and infertility, respectively).

She shocked many with her candor, but she also didn't pretend to be something she was not. She championed women's rights and encouraged others to overcome their personal demons. Her life story is teaching me one more thing -- the lesson of authenticity.

As I alluded to in a previous post it's not easy to be different, to not conform to what society expects us to be. My, how things have changed since Betty Ford was my age. Where she once had to stand up for the under-appreciated role of motherhood, we now live in a world where MOM has become the favored go-to descriptor or modifier.

It seemed to take hold with "soccer mom." This now prevalent turn of phrase has since become the defacto way to describe or even define women (where applicable). Just search the word "mom" on the ABC News website and here's what you'll find: "Atlanta mom," "Tot Mom," "Botox Mom," "Tiger Mom."

It's enough to drive a woman to ... well, fortunately, Betty Ford also taught us how to overcome that tendency, too.

The pendulum continues to swing, so I trust by the time I'm 93 we'll once again celebrate and describe women for the multitude of roles or interests they possess, and not just the one that's in vogue today.

Meanwhile, having been socialized to assume that my life will not be fulfilling or valued in a world where I'm not a mom, like Betty, it's with some amazement that I find I'm having a really good time.

A Mind Feast - Part II

2011-06-22T15:55:54Z

I clearly recall 10 years ago feeling wary and apprehensive about what my life would be like a decade later if I didn't succeed in conceiving. When the nagging worries of an unknown (and surely unfulfilled) life took hold during a frantic last engagement with a team of reproductive endocrinologists at Stanford University Medical Center I pushed them out of my head. Not gonna go there.

I was the Elder Price of infertility treatment. (Elder Price being the protagonist in The Book of Mormon who had an intractable view of the way life had to be.) Like Elder Price I had a rosy-colored one-dimensional outlook on what would bring me happiness. It was only when it all didn't turn out as I had dreamed that I came to realize there was much more waiting for me. Better still, I was on the verge of meeting some amazing women whom I otherwise would not have come to know.

Marni, for instance, a doctoral student whose dissertation topic is Living Without Children After Infertility. We met on a warm night at a lively restaurant in her Manhattan neighborhood accompanied by our significant others. Marni simply radiates peace. You can't help but feel calm in her presence. Over a series of appetizers and small plates Marni and I shared more than good food. Seated next to each other in a u-shaped booth, we shared a deep, instant connection that allowed us to leap from bashful first greetings into a series of "you, too?" moments, reliving our awakenings while the guys conversed about topics, well, more guy friendly. The evening rushed by.

The next afternoon, Christina and I met after a business conference. Seated at an outdoor table in a restaurant humming with happy hour patrons we caught up on our lives since our last get together a year ago. We talked enthusiastically about our new dreams, confidently looking ahead to still more reinvention with new projects and new plans. Christina's petite size makes her expansive enthusiasm pack a powerful punch. She is fearless and draws you into world of possibilities.

From there I had the musical The Book of Mormon to look forward to. Soaring music, energetic choreography and a story that can't help but make you think propelled us into a hot and humid Time Square with a swell of tourists on a Friday night. Every fiber in me felt alive and joyful.

So it was not surprising when Marni shared this kindred spirit observation in a follow up email, "if you want to change something, it has to be associated with joy. Joy gets people to move. Fear makes them stuck."

I wish I could go back to the woman consumed with fear 10 years ago and assure her that joy would be in her future -- that everything would turn out more than just fine.

A Mind Feast - Part I

2011-06-20T14:36:49Z

There's real value in being jolted out of the day-to-day routine. In the past week or more there's been very little in the way of the familiar -- either in ideas or surroundings.

The combination of Jon Ronson's new book, The Psychopath Test, a few days caught up in the vastness of New York City, stimulating conversations with compelling companions, and holding a golden ticket to the irreverent and, at times, gasp-inducing musical, The Book Mormon, followed by a few stories in Sunday's New York Times provided a supermarket of thoughts, a mind feast.

Since this is a blog after all, I'm giving myself permission to take a leisurely bite out of each over the coming days. Let's start with Mr. Ronson.

Contained in his book, subtitled "A Journey Through the Madness Industry," were these observations by a renowned psychiatrist Dr. Allen Frances: "there's a societal push for conformity in all ways. There's less tolerance of difference."

Hang on, I thought. Clearly, this can't be right. Don't we live in a time of unprecedented expression?

And yet, the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that we may be living -- bolstered by Tweets and Facebook updates -- with a comfortable illusion of anything goes.

Ronson's discussion with Dr. Frances concerned the proliferation of new psychiatric diagnoses contained in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Dr. Frances, as I learned in doing more research, has come to the conclusion that "in making diseases out of everyday suffering" we're "padding the bottom lines of drug companies" and creating "terrible consequences."

Let's chew on that a bit...

This, That and Another Thing

2011-06-04T18:00:22Z

Seasons of Change. It's fast approaching that time of year when I bid farewell to one age and greet another. As of June 12, I'll formally turn (gasp) 48. I know, right? How did this happen? Ah well, it certainly beats the alternative. I've been trying my new age on for size the past couple of weeks. Not aloud, mind you. I've decided it's cheeky and voluptuous, and not 50. That said, I'm going to own 48 and celebrate it -- starting in New York. I'll be speaking at a business conference, visiting friends, and taking in the acclaimed Broadway musical, The Book of Mormon. Looking forward to visiting a great city.

Record breaking in a way that I could do without. It's June 4 and it's pouring rain in the San Francisco Bay area. I'm not accustomed to whining about the weather, but it's not just today that the grey skies have opened up. It's been doing this rain thing (normally seen only in the winter) for the past few months -- more on than off -- accompanied by unseasonably cool temps. Temperatures have been running 10 to 20 degrees below normal this year. Since this girl is solar-powered all this abnormal weather makes me grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. This is not why I moved to California. The Mediterranean climate is what makes paying ridiculously high taxes and housing prices easier to stomach. Not much relief in sight. Here's what the San Francisco Chronicle has to say about this history-making weather:

"The last time it rained this much in June, the Summer of Love was just beginning. And it might even be as wet as it was 127 years ago when residents were driving horse-and-buggies and the big social phenomenon of the moment was the Industrial Revolution."

Speaking of days gone by...

Midnight in Paris. If you haven't seen it, run don't walk to the movie theater. It's a film to be savored. It beguiles and amuses and sends your imagination soaring. The sights and sounds of Paris in any age are intoxicating, but the film is also chock full of insights. Among them: embrace the life you have; make your own golden age (an idea that will make more sense after you see the movie). Later, sharing a bottle of Italian Barbera wine over dinner, the film contents provided me and Alex with the fuel to stoke our own dreams--including getting more serious about a trip we'd like to take in February 2012 to South Africa and Pilanesberg, a national park set in the crater of a long extinct volcano. More on that topic for another day. Meanwhile, here are a few photos of our April 2008 visit to Paris, which I revisited this morning after awakening with images of the city and of the magic we experienced there.

Now, see the movie and let me know what it inspires in you...

The New Normal

2011-05-27T16:56:58Z

Fifteen years ago this weekend I packed up all my belongings, waved goodbye to Michigan and the life I knew, and headed west to San Jose, California.

I was truly a stranger in a strange new land. I knew two people in the Bay area: my brother who lived an hour north in the East Bay, and a long-distance friend who also lived an hour from my new home. I didn't know the lingo -- Silicon Valley buzzwords and acronyms filled a notebook I kept to try to make sense of it all. I got lost driving to the grocery store and dry cleaner (this was pre-SatNav mind you). I struggled to find my footing.

Gradually, with some trial and error -- some of it quite embarrassing and awkward -- I got into a good new groove and found a way to fit in. Today, I identify as a Californian.

I share this because it parallels a transition to another "new normal" -- the one I write about here: pursuing a fresh start when nothing seems to fit, when the future looks murky, when life feels unfamiliar. It's never easy to find a new normal when you're in the midst of major change. It's chronically exhausting and emotionally trying, but slowly, slowly you find your way. Before too long wounds heal and you're back on your feet striding forward with confidence and purpose you never thought you'd find again.

I am reminded of how important it is to capture the full story of change -- from the isolation and pain to the place of acceptance and peace -- when I hear from Silent Sorority readers who only are beginning to understand the scope of the experience contained within it. You'll see what I mean when you read this review posted yesterday on Amazon.com from the mother of a daughter struggling with infertility:

"I am deeply grateful to the author for writing this book. My stomach turned when I read some of the stupid comments made to encourage and give hope, the insensitive things said in ignorance or impatience, because I was guilty of saying them myself to my own daughter. I have a much better understanding of what she is experiencing. I have felt puzzled and helpless when I have seen her lose it with pregnant friends and family members, but knowing that every blasted 28 days she receives another reminder of loss and failure really brings it into focus. This is a cross no one should have to bear. It is more pain than anyone should have to endure. I now notice all the constant reminders that are all around us every day, all the time. A ceaseless reminder of the one thing she desires so much being beyond her reach. But the hope that Pam gives for finding her way out of the pain is beautiful. There is no recovery from this. How can one recover? It isn't possible. I am going to send a copy to a family member who has been especially insensitive. She should have to go through the Twilight Zone."

My heart goes out to the reviewer's daughter and to the reviewer herself for recognizing how she can make the experience less isolating. In the words contained above I was transported back to the angst I once felt. Some memories will always prompt a deep emotional response and leave an indelible mark.

Fifteen years later when I drive by my old neighborhood and the dry cleaner that was once hard to find I still recall how it felt to sit crying inside my car because I felt so lost and alone in a strange new place.

Sometimes we roll the dice on a new life, and sometimes life rolls the dice for us. There can be great tension and anguish while we wait for those dice to fall. Either way, you can still come out a winner.

Take Back Your Power and Identity

2011-05-14T23:44:00Z

I've always admired those who grow and give back after a life-changing experience.

Take Lisa Manterfield, for instance. She's channeled her talent and energy into writing and community building for women who are unintentionally childless. I had the pleasure of meeting her in person in February. She expressed "a single-minded vision to help women like herself who have struggled through infertility and come out the other side." Her latest endeavor kicks off in southern California next month -- June 26 to be exact.

Lisa, whose smile is as big as her heart, has teamed up with a friend who is a therapist specializing in loss and grief. Together they've developed a series of workshops aimed at coming to terms with unplanned childlessness and all that goes along with it. The series is called Healing Through Creativity and the first workshop will be Finding Your Identity After Infertility - a topic she feels very strongly about, saying, "I'm really excited about the idea and I think it's going to fill a niche and hopefully provide a valuable resource, that I don't think is currently there."

Among the items on the workshop program will be interactive exercises designed to shift your thinking and help you reconnect with your inner self. You can expect to:

• Acknowledge your loss
• Identify the attitudes, beliefs and behaviors that are preventing you from healing
• Connect with your own passion and purpose
• Take back your power and identity
• Gain support from a community of like-minded women
• Find the courage to take the next step

You can learn more and sign up for the workshop here.

Who Shapes History? We Do

2011-05-08T16:11:00Z

Is it already the second Sunday in May?

It may be that I've simply been too busy to notice, or that I've reached a new state of zen. Either way, I thought it was important to take a moment from my packing to highlight a story that my better half had waiting next to my cup of coffee this morning. (Alex and I are heading off shortly for several days of R&R.)

The San Jose Mercury News print edition contained a story titled,"Taking Mother's Day Back." In it, the reporter shares the genesis of this day -- an antiwar protest -- and asked how it was that we'd gotten so far aware from its original intent.

She reminds us that one of the early champions of the day "spent every last penny of her fortune to stop what she perceived as the crass commercialization of the occasion."

What really struck me most about the piece, though, was this message: do not lose control of the narrative. The reporter quotes Katie Orenstein, founder of New York's OpEd Project:

"It's about who tells the story. That's who shapes our history. Women do not tell the stories. Whoever controls the story controls the central conversations of our age. That's who narrates the world. That's who assigns meaning to our lives. That's who has a voice."

Let's not lose sight of the inspiring narratives of the many warm, nurturing and wonderful women (not just those who call themselves mother) who enrich our lives every day. Our stories matter.

p.s. I'll be sitting down today and toasting all of the nurturing women I've come to know through this blog and through Silent Sorority. Cheers to you!