Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
What is real and what is not.
I came across this great article today on the Road Less Traveled. It is called The Blank Space in Our Family Album and deserves a read. It is a rare moment when a publication like the Times sheds some light on the subject of miscarriage and infertility. But like Loribeth, I also take issue with the authors use of the phrase "real babies." Fact is, my babies were real. They existed, if only for a short time, if only ever inside my womb. But they were real, and their loss was real.
So even a woman who has suffered loss and IF herself can mis-step. With just a slight slip of the tongue or keyboard, a single word reveals the pervasive notion of what is real and what is not. And who gets to decide? For me, this gets to the depth of what I have been going through for the last year: the pain of having to endure the loss of someone who is unmentionable. My lost embryos make people nervous. So, apparently, it is my job to keep quiet about them. I am supposed to ignore that they ever existed. I am supposed to suck it up and put on a happy face for the festering ring of pregnant women around me-- because they never knew that I felt my babies presence. That I knew they were there. That even after they were gone, my body could still trick me into believing they were still there.
Some things in the world we can not see. And other things in the world we choose not to see. Miscarriage and infertility fall into the latter. It is easy to ignore something until it envelopes, until it swallows you whole and takes you to that unmentionable place. Alone.
I feel better about being alone every day. With J. gone, I spend whole days not talking to anyone. I don't miss my fertile friends as much as I think I thought I would. It makes it easy not to see them when I know they would fumble around me. Or perhaps I am just numb to the pain of loosing them. Or perhaps I just don't care. Probably another unmentionable subject. But there it is.
So even a woman who has suffered loss and IF herself can mis-step. With just a slight slip of the tongue or keyboard, a single word reveals the pervasive notion of what is real and what is not. And who gets to decide? For me, this gets to the depth of what I have been going through for the last year: the pain of having to endure the loss of someone who is unmentionable. My lost embryos make people nervous. So, apparently, it is my job to keep quiet about them. I am supposed to ignore that they ever existed. I am supposed to suck it up and put on a happy face for the festering ring of pregnant women around me-- because they never knew that I felt my babies presence. That I knew they were there. That even after they were gone, my body could still trick me into believing they were still there.
Some things in the world we can not see. And other things in the world we choose not to see. Miscarriage and infertility fall into the latter. It is easy to ignore something until it envelopes, until it swallows you whole and takes you to that unmentionable place. Alone.
I feel better about being alone every day. With J. gone, I spend whole days not talking to anyone. I don't miss my fertile friends as much as I think I thought I would. It makes it easy not to see them when I know they would fumble around me. Or perhaps I am just numb to the pain of loosing them. Or perhaps I just don't care. Probably another unmentionable subject. But there it is.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Rounding out the year, appearing as a lazy sac-o-shit
The people at tomorrows reunion, they are J.'s friends. Just like his architecty friends, this group from undergrad were never my friends. In undergrad they were all very exclusive -- and I was never "in" with them. So regardless of our circumstances, this reunion is never a fun affair. But this year, I enter with both irritation and fear-- fear that someone will dump the "your next" or "so when are you two going to get to it" on us.
I have been avoiding social gatherings for months for this very reason. Those statements/questions are like land mines and I have no idea how to avoid them, or how to respond to them. Hence the avoidance. I am totally unprepared to deal, especially with a groups of somewhat superficial friends that I only ever see once a year.
The caveat is the A. is REALLY pregnant. Frankly, I give her serious props for coming out. And we were never close, and they started their family years ago - so somehow, for some reason, I think I am ok to see her. I just know that her swollen belly will get people glancing in my direction, even if only long enough to wonder - "why haven't those two knocked some out yet?"
I have been considering my possible rebuttals to stupid comments/questions. What I would really like to do is be able to spazz out on someone and tell them how my body is a baby killer and how they should think twice when they start inquiring about peoples person shit. Ideally this would be someone that I already have some distain for, so I can feel at least a little good about myself afterwards. I was also thinking it would be cool to have a really witty rebuttal, but I am not witty. Pamela Jeane at Coming2Terms gives a great response. "My husband and I have evolved to perfection. Clearly your family tree needs some work!" But I would totally flub the delivery. More likely is that no one will say anything at all, and I will have to live inside of my dirty, dark, shameful, scary secret for another night. A lot of them live in LA + NYC, so mostly they will want to talk about themselves-- and as long as it saves me an uncomfortable moment-- that is ok with me.
It used to be that I could go to these things and I would feel great about myself. I would respond the the standard bevy of question with answers like: "I am finishing grad school" or "I was just awarded a show in Ireland" or "I am applying for tenure track jobs." But this year, the honest answer is something like: "I had two miserable miscarriages, a surgery to resect my uterine septum and all that has taking a pretty serious bite out of any plans that I ever had for myself. Our chance of having children is still somewhat dicey." WHO WANTS TO HEAR THAT AND WHO IS ACTUALLY PREPARED TO RESPOND IN ANY MEANINGFUL WAY? I know I wouldn't be able to respond to that if I was in their semi-friend shoes. So I have to suck it up and pretend like I was busy being lazy instead of getting violated by the dildo-cam and an acupuncturist on a pretty regular basis. Getting your junk in order is a full-time job. Between the scheduling and the inordinate amount of internet research required to advocate for yourself as a patient - I am not sure how I got anything done at all this year.
So basically, I got nothin'. I got no kid, no fabulous job, no exciting news of travels to far off places. Instead, I got a crash course in uterine anomalies and I got real used to having a magic wand jammed up my hoo-haa.
But no one knows that, or will know that. So I just look like a lazy sac-o-shit...
I have been avoiding social gatherings for months for this very reason. Those statements/questions are like land mines and I have no idea how to avoid them, or how to respond to them. Hence the avoidance. I am totally unprepared to deal, especially with a groups of somewhat superficial friends that I only ever see once a year.
The caveat is the A. is REALLY pregnant. Frankly, I give her serious props for coming out. And we were never close, and they started their family years ago - so somehow, for some reason, I think I am ok to see her. I just know that her swollen belly will get people glancing in my direction, even if only long enough to wonder - "why haven't those two knocked some out yet?"
I have been considering my possible rebuttals to stupid comments/questions. What I would really like to do is be able to spazz out on someone and tell them how my body is a baby killer and how they should think twice when they start inquiring about peoples person shit. Ideally this would be someone that I already have some distain for, so I can feel at least a little good about myself afterwards. I was also thinking it would be cool to have a really witty rebuttal, but I am not witty. Pamela Jeane at Coming2Terms gives a great response. "My husband and I have evolved to perfection. Clearly your family tree needs some work!" But I would totally flub the delivery. More likely is that no one will say anything at all, and I will have to live inside of my dirty, dark, shameful, scary secret for another night. A lot of them live in LA + NYC, so mostly they will want to talk about themselves-- and as long as it saves me an uncomfortable moment-- that is ok with me.
It used to be that I could go to these things and I would feel great about myself. I would respond the the standard bevy of question with answers like: "I am finishing grad school" or "I was just awarded a show in Ireland" or "I am applying for tenure track jobs." But this year, the honest answer is something like: "I had two miserable miscarriages, a surgery to resect my uterine septum and all that has taking a pretty serious bite out of any plans that I ever had for myself. Our chance of having children is still somewhat dicey." WHO WANTS TO HEAR THAT AND WHO IS ACTUALLY PREPARED TO RESPOND IN ANY MEANINGFUL WAY? I know I wouldn't be able to respond to that if I was in their semi-friend shoes. So I have to suck it up and pretend like I was busy being lazy instead of getting violated by the dildo-cam and an acupuncturist on a pretty regular basis. Getting your junk in order is a full-time job. Between the scheduling and the inordinate amount of internet research required to advocate for yourself as a patient - I am not sure how I got anything done at all this year.
So basically, I got nothin'. I got no kid, no fabulous job, no exciting news of travels to far off places. Instead, I got a crash course in uterine anomalies and I got real used to having a magic wand jammed up my hoo-haa.
But no one knows that, or will know that. So I just look like a lazy sac-o-shit...
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Managing My Spoiled Identity
I have begun investigating pregnancy failure through reading. “Motherhood Lost: a feminist account of pregnancy loss in America” by Linda Layne has been a great resource. To name just a few subjects I am particularly drawn to: the umentionable or “culturally sanctioned non-existence” of pregnancy loss, the assumption of the “natural” process of pregnancy and birth, and how societies frame “womanhood” around reproduction (or production).
Layne speaks very directly to this notion of "spoiled identity." This term seems to so clearly sum up what I have been going through in the past year-- attempting, though often failing, to understand who I am if children are not part of my future. When your vision of yourself is so tightly wrapped around this one thing, who are you when that very thing starts to fail?
I would like to summarize some of the text's writing about the “fetal subject,” as I think it helps to frame an explanation of why women have such a profound sense of loss from miscarriage, no matter how early it occurs. The book looks specifically at new reproductive technologies that have developed in the last 25 years and how those technologies impact the construction of fetal personhood. The author summarizes that these technologies, that provide us with visual and aural experiences during pregnancy, have altered the way in which we think about, bond to and experience the embryo/fetus. Specifically, bonds begin earlier and earlier, and the assignment of personhood, by others and ourselves, on the embryo/fetus has shifted. Additionally, with the introduction of in vitro fertilization, social construction of the “baby” may even begin prior to implantation. We gather information about these liminal being throughout pregnancy. Each step takes us closer to, not the self of the embryo/fetus, but the “personhood” we construct – an image, an amniocentesis, hearing the heart, learning the sex. There certainly are unmediated experiences, in particular, movement of the fetus, but I just wanted to raise some of these questions about the fetal subject and our mediated experience. I think they shed light on how and why it is that woman are so deeply impacted by loss. A fetus or embryo represents not just a mere cluster of cells, but the beginnings of a life-long relationship with an individual we have yet to even know. With technology, we have access to detailed information about the progress of our unborn child, earlier and earlier-- making that unborn child "known" or "real" earlier and earlier in its development. {This is not a criticism, just an observation}
The text also acknowledges the interplay of the Judeo-Christian, American narrative of progress and (re)production - "the ethic of meritocracy." If you work hard enough, you can do anything! These normalized, idealized narratives, when applied to other goals are often valuable and even true. But when self-imposed upon the issue of fertility, the author refers to this as the "management of a spoiled identity." In many cases, working hard has nothing to do with carrying a successful pregnancy. So when we think about self, and identity, we must consider that some people are "naturally" incapable of fullfilling the one thing which is socially considered a "natural" characteristic of their gender. In some cases, woman can not give birth. And because of that natural fact, the sound of a fetal heartbeat, the sight of a swollen belly, is a mere reminder of the moment they learned of their own failure, again, through mediation (the absence of a heartbeat) or worse yet, through a catastrophic late term loss.
And last, a quote that speaks directly to the taboo that surround both loss and infertility, summing up why some days, I wish I had never told anyone but my husband of our problems:
“The liminality of women who do not complete wished-for pregnancies and superliminality of the dead embryos/fetuses they bear helps to explain why pregnancy loss is a tabooed subject in our society…. Taboo is defined as a “prohibition put upon certain people, things, or acts which make them untouchable, unmentionable, etc”…. Since the mid-1970’s, American women who experience pregnancy loss have found themselves at the nexus of two set of strong, opposing cultural forces. On the one hand, they are subject the taboo surrounding the dead fetuses, and the interdiction on death and any other unpleasant topic that challenges the myth of perpetual linear progress. On the other hand, women’s experience of pregnancy and pregnancy loss is influenced by the increasing prominence of the fetal subject in the public imagery in the last 25 years."
There is little that brings comfort after a pregnancy loss. It is unmentionable, unacknowledged, un-mourned, misunderstood, misconceived, brushed aside, real to you, but rarely to others. Peggy Orenstein's Essay "Mourning My Miscarriage" really helped me at a time when I could not understand most of what I was going through.
Layne speaks very directly to this notion of "spoiled identity." This term seems to so clearly sum up what I have been going through in the past year-- attempting, though often failing, to understand who I am if children are not part of my future. When your vision of yourself is so tightly wrapped around this one thing, who are you when that very thing starts to fail?
I would like to summarize some of the text's writing about the “fetal subject,” as I think it helps to frame an explanation of why women have such a profound sense of loss from miscarriage, no matter how early it occurs. The book looks specifically at new reproductive technologies that have developed in the last 25 years and how those technologies impact the construction of fetal personhood. The author summarizes that these technologies, that provide us with visual and aural experiences during pregnancy, have altered the way in which we think about, bond to and experience the embryo/fetus. Specifically, bonds begin earlier and earlier, and the assignment of personhood, by others and ourselves, on the embryo/fetus has shifted. Additionally, with the introduction of in vitro fertilization, social construction of the “baby” may even begin prior to implantation. We gather information about these liminal being throughout pregnancy. Each step takes us closer to, not the self of the embryo/fetus, but the “personhood” we construct – an image, an amniocentesis, hearing the heart, learning the sex. There certainly are unmediated experiences, in particular, movement of the fetus, but I just wanted to raise some of these questions about the fetal subject and our mediated experience. I think they shed light on how and why it is that woman are so deeply impacted by loss. A fetus or embryo represents not just a mere cluster of cells, but the beginnings of a life-long relationship with an individual we have yet to even know. With technology, we have access to detailed information about the progress of our unborn child, earlier and earlier-- making that unborn child "known" or "real" earlier and earlier in its development. {This is not a criticism, just an observation}
The text also acknowledges the interplay of the Judeo-Christian, American narrative of progress and (re)production - "the ethic of meritocracy." If you work hard enough, you can do anything! These normalized, idealized narratives, when applied to other goals are often valuable and even true. But when self-imposed upon the issue of fertility, the author refers to this as the "management of a spoiled identity." In many cases, working hard has nothing to do with carrying a successful pregnancy. So when we think about self, and identity, we must consider that some people are "naturally" incapable of fullfilling the one thing which is socially considered a "natural" characteristic of their gender. In some cases, woman can not give birth. And because of that natural fact, the sound of a fetal heartbeat, the sight of a swollen belly, is a mere reminder of the moment they learned of their own failure, again, through mediation (the absence of a heartbeat) or worse yet, through a catastrophic late term loss.
And last, a quote that speaks directly to the taboo that surround both loss and infertility, summing up why some days, I wish I had never told anyone but my husband of our problems:
“The liminality of women who do not complete wished-for pregnancies and superliminality of the dead embryos/fetuses they bear helps to explain why pregnancy loss is a tabooed subject in our society…. Taboo is defined as a “prohibition put upon certain people, things, or acts which make them untouchable, unmentionable, etc”…. Since the mid-1970’s, American women who experience pregnancy loss have found themselves at the nexus of two set of strong, opposing cultural forces. On the one hand, they are subject the taboo surrounding the dead fetuses, and the interdiction on death and any other unpleasant topic that challenges the myth of perpetual linear progress. On the other hand, women’s experience of pregnancy and pregnancy loss is influenced by the increasing prominence of the fetal subject in the public imagery in the last 25 years."
There is little that brings comfort after a pregnancy loss. It is unmentionable, unacknowledged, un-mourned, misunderstood, misconceived, brushed aside, real to you, but rarely to others. Peggy Orenstein's Essay "Mourning My Miscarriage" really helped me at a time when I could not understand most of what I was going through.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
How do you define infertility?
I can get pregnant.
In four months time I was twice pregnant.
But I lost them both.
And I still don't know if my U. will ever work well enough not to reject an embryo.
So if you are a woman who gets pregnant but can not carry that pregnancy to term, are you infertile?
Or are you just someone who suffers from Recurrent loss?
Are there rules to this?
In four months time I was twice pregnant.
But I lost them both.
And I still don't know if my U. will ever work well enough not to reject an embryo.
So if you are a woman who gets pregnant but can not carry that pregnancy to term, are you infertile?
Or are you just someone who suffers from Recurrent loss?
Are there rules to this?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Beers in the afternoon and the epidemic of pregnancy
Yesterday was rough. And since all of my friends are either knocked up, new parents or lame, I decided to treat myself to a burger and a buzz after teaching my morning class (no worries, I did not have to go back to teach:)
MMMMM, Guiness os so good. It sustains me in the winter. I am not a huge beer fan, but the dark stuff is so smooth and delicious. So I had a great lunch, alone-- which I seldom do, but always enjoy. After, I stopped in at a few local boutiuqes and picked up a few x-mas gifts.
One store is a DIY place, handmade stuff and the like. Now that I have decided to ditch all my friends (ill, I hate myself) I have become slightly more gregarious. Even with that, I am still pretty introverted. Regardless, I struck up a conversation with the co-owner of this store. Turns out that we live VERY close to each other and she lives across from this woman that I know, but never really got to cultivate a friendship with. I was siked. Yeah me, some new neighbors, our age without kids! So I asked about M. (the woman we both know) and she says, "Aw, she's great. She just had a baby, like a month ago." And I say, "Wow, I guess I haven't seen her in a while. That is soooo great. Umm, I better go."
It is a freaking epidemic. I have been ambushed. I am totally surrounded. Not only my friends, but my potential friends are already all dirtied up with baby talk. Am going to have to start hanging out with 20 year olds? What does a girl have to do to score some DINK friends?
(DINK = Duel Income, No Kids)
MMMMM, Guiness os so good. It sustains me in the winter. I am not a huge beer fan, but the dark stuff is so smooth and delicious. So I had a great lunch, alone-- which I seldom do, but always enjoy. After, I stopped in at a few local boutiuqes and picked up a few x-mas gifts.
One store is a DIY place, handmade stuff and the like. Now that I have decided to ditch all my friends (ill, I hate myself) I have become slightly more gregarious. Even with that, I am still pretty introverted. Regardless, I struck up a conversation with the co-owner of this store. Turns out that we live VERY close to each other and she lives across from this woman that I know, but never really got to cultivate a friendship with. I was siked. Yeah me, some new neighbors, our age without kids! So I asked about M. (the woman we both know) and she says, "Aw, she's great. She just had a baby, like a month ago." And I say, "Wow, I guess I haven't seen her in a while. That is soooo great. Umm, I better go."
It is a freaking epidemic. I have been ambushed. I am totally surrounded. Not only my friends, but my potential friends are already all dirtied up with baby talk. Am going to have to start hanging out with 20 year olds? What does a girl have to do to score some DINK friends?
(DINK = Duel Income, No Kids)
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
To all of you out there with Perfect Uteri
Just to get it straight - I AM NOT INFERTILE. Well, not really, I think. If it were 1852, I would be infertile. But today we can poke little holes in people and root around with a camera. We can also insert tiny, little scissors into a woman's uterus and snip away the wall that divides it in two, making for a remodeled, and hopefully functioning, unit. I hope it works for me. Right now, it is too soon to tell. So I can get pregnant, repeatedly, but my body is a babykiller.
But here is the point.
I have, since May 2007 to present, suffered 2 miscarriages due to my septate uterus while all of my friends (and I really do mean that) have gotten pregnant on near the first try and taken that pregnancy to term. I am surrounded by a festering ring of fertility. I am the statistic. Girls, stay close. You wanna have a kid, stick with me. I am the percentage, the one you hope you are not. I got the shitty end of the stick - so you go ahead and grab the good end. I can take it.
Problem is that people who have kids, and pregnant people, are really bad at talking to people like me. They say really dumb shit. They call their pregnancy a failure because they developed gestational diabetes (the same friend is currently holding her self-incubated son.) Another friend contacted me all upset because she was turned down by a midwifery practice. They will not take her as a patient because she has epilepsy. She is all pissed because now she will have to delivery her kid in a hospital (safety first!) Ummm, guess what. I can't really deal with this. Fact is, your experience will ultimately end in bliss. Mine, repeated tragedy. I don't mean to minimize anyones feelings, but I can only be so generous. Remember who you are talking to, and be sensitive to that. Because, frankly, it hurts like hell-- and in the grand scheme of things, I have had a pretty easy go at it.
So I just stumbled on this today and want to share it with all of you out there with perfect uteri. Here are some really helpful hints on how to deal with people like me (I edited it a smidge). I found it on RESOLVE - which is a national association for Infertility.
If you can have children with ease and have never suffered a miscarriage you can never, ever understand what it is like to be me. That is all there is too it.
But here is the point.
I have, since May 2007 to present, suffered 2 miscarriages due to my septate uterus while all of my friends (and I really do mean that) have gotten pregnant on near the first try and taken that pregnancy to term. I am surrounded by a festering ring of fertility. I am the statistic. Girls, stay close. You wanna have a kid, stick with me. I am the percentage, the one you hope you are not. I got the shitty end of the stick - so you go ahead and grab the good end. I can take it.
Problem is that people who have kids, and pregnant people, are really bad at talking to people like me. They say really dumb shit. They call their pregnancy a failure because they developed gestational diabetes (the same friend is currently holding her self-incubated son.) Another friend contacted me all upset because she was turned down by a midwifery practice. They will not take her as a patient because she has epilepsy. She is all pissed because now she will have to delivery her kid in a hospital (safety first!) Ummm, guess what. I can't really deal with this. Fact is, your experience will ultimately end in bliss. Mine, repeated tragedy. I don't mean to minimize anyones feelings, but I can only be so generous. Remember who you are talking to, and be sensitive to that. Because, frankly, it hurts like hell-- and in the grand scheme of things, I have had a pretty easy go at it.
So I just stumbled on this today and want to share it with all of you out there with perfect uteri. Here are some really helpful hints on how to deal with people like me (I edited it a smidge). I found it on RESOLVE - which is a national association for Infertility.
- Don't Tell Them to Relax - no amount of relaxing would have dissolved my septum. Nor will it help other people who are struggling with various known and unknown cases of infertility.
- Don't Minimize the Problem - Talking about all the petty benefits to being childless is a sucky thing to do. (sleeping in, not getting barfed on, going out for beers)
- Don't Say There Are Worse Things That Could Happen - Great. I already feel shitty, now you are reminding me to feel guilty about my own pain...
- Don't Say They Aren't Meant to Be Parents - I don't believe this crap anyhow.
- Don't Complain About Your Pregnancy - This is the motherload. If I have to explain why, then you may possibly be too insensitive to be anyone's friend. Hope your kid loves you, because you are a piece!
If you can have children with ease and have never suffered a miscarriage you can never, ever understand what it is like to be me. That is all there is too it.
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