“The rampage of advertisements has already begun” Chamberlin calculates. Read more
The morning after last week’s election I lay on my couch, practically immobile. As it did with many, the election results struck me sideways. First, I felt all of it. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. Sadness for people on both sides of the aisle who don’t feel seen and heard by our society and are not having their needs met by this country. Disheartened that things crumbled to the point where someone who I truly believe is not an intelligent, decent well-meaning human being could be elected. Upheaval. Concern for the future – mine and everyone else’s. Numb. Violated. Discombobulated.
Wishing deep in my heart of hearts that Trump does a good job is much like wishing for a pregnancy on the heels of multiple failed fertility treatments; you want it more than anything but know on a level it’s probably not going to happen. Most of all, I was shocked that I was shocked. When one loses their children to infertility after years of trying and doing everything right only to walk out into a sea of indifference (please read the “you can have mine”, “you’re lucky”, “you can always foster or adopt” “it wasn’t meant to be” and “at least you can travel now” minimizations), one’s list of what will shock them in life from that day forward becomes severely truncated. Read more
I’ve done my share of speaking out on my trip through infertility and now involuntary childlessness. I’ve asked my family and friends for support.
I insert my truths in conversation when I’m able. I educate when I can. In doing these things I’m habitually asking people for acknowledgement and to be informed themselves. Read more
Infertility Survivorhood Meets Perimenopause
Sitting with my feet in the stirrups things were notably different from the year prior. My first visit to the gynecologist six months after we had lost our children, though preempted by good “I’m getting back to taking care of myself again” feelings, ended up being served with a big fat panic attack. Read more
My answer to the piece in today’s Huffington Post Parents, “20 Ways Motherhood Changes Your Perspective”
I try to be the better human, I really do. Today was no different as my eyes passed over the Huffington Post Parents article, “20 Ways Motherhood Changes Your Perspective.”
I fought the temptation. “Don’t read it, S. You’ve got things to do”. My (supposed) higher minded approach to rebuilding my new life I didn’t chose is to focus on myself, not on what’s going on around me.
Apparently, that goes better on some days than on others. And to be honest, my raw material in this department is pretty shabby. So I succumbed, gambling that this might be an opportunity to vent some justly earned smugness. Read more
A Satirical Fairy Tail
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, a friendly (although at times not so much) neighborhood infertile, to whom we’ll inconspicuously refer as Sarah Chamberlin, was perusing the IF blogosphere. This led her to an article in a major publication on the lifetime scars of infertility. Excited to see her tribe front and center in mainstream social media, she clicked and read. Chamberlin was at first satisfied by a worthwhile article, however her spirits rapidly dampened as she stared at the
vast cesspool of humanity comment section ahead of her. Read more
Right now, I have only one question.
Yes, normally I’m perplexed by society’s indifference to early child losses, especially when coupled with all of the mommy mania out there. I think what many might label as “serious thoughts” about the hows and whys of life, or more so lately the lack thereof. I’ve been accused of being too long winded, too divergent, too intense. I’m down with mindfulness and feeling every nook and cranny of my emotions, especially the taboo ones.
But right now, I ponder only this:
Given that I’m an involuntarily childless infertility survivor going through my second Mother’s Day without my children, at what time should I start drinking?
I don’t ask much from you, my dear readers, but I could really use your input on this. The absence of script for this kind of life is really getting to me.
So whadaya think? Noon too early?
I’ve got a nice bottle of rose champagne (a gift for my b-day back in Feb) that needs some attention. Granted, I feel anyone who has lost their children should be bathing in the shit instead, but alas I’ll be drinking it.
Yeah I get it – there are more noble things I could be doing on this not so fine day. Feeling my feelings as I did last year, reaching out to others and yada yada yada. It just so happens that not giving a shit is something I’m also able do quite well every now and then.
What about 11:00 am? Any opinions?
I leave you with my Facebook post for the day. I pretty much never post on Facebook. I’ve made no bones about the fact that avoiding humans has been one of my tickets to surviving infertility. But I might actually be peeking out from under my rock.
I said might.
So rather than re-emerge on FB (otherwise known as the fiery depths of hell in IF circles) with a benign comment about the weather, or some fake holiday oriented cordiality, as a more intelligent person would do, I threw down this instead:
On this day that is still shamelessly embalmed in the exclusion of so many, I pass on this quote:
“I believe that in the same way we need species diversity to ensure that the planet can go on, so we need this diversity of affection and diversity of family in order to strengthen the ecosphere of kindness.”
On this day I grieve.
And on this day, to all of the aunts and stepmothers, to all moms of alpha pregnancies, moms of miscarried pregnancies and stillborns, to everyone who participates in the welfare of children, child free by choice people who contribute greatly to this world, and every person without children who has relentlessly nurtured me throughout my adulthood, to people who have lost their potential children to tragic and unfortunate circumstance, to all my fellow brothers and sisters in loss and especially to every parent without children out there for whom I know all too well how hard this day is, I salute you. My infertility survivor child free not by choice family of two salutes you all.
Oh, did I mention I practically have no friends since I’m never on FB? So that whole heart outpouring was for like 13 people. I’m a genius.