Watching, listening & learning

I've been debating what (if anything) I should post about the recent events in Minneapolis (a city/area where I have lots of family) and elsewhere in the U.S.  Others -- including Cristy (here and here), Noemi, Jjiraffe, Ana, Sue, and Mrs. Spit -- have already posted about this, far more eloquently & sensitively than I fear I can.  

One point I can add to the conversation:  a lot of Canadians like to think that we're better than the U.S. when it comes to racism. But we really don't have anything to brag about.  We have our own less-than-stellar history, most notably in terms of the indigenous population, but also with black people and other people of colour too. (Read about Viola Desmond, or Africville in Halifax, for starters.) (This piece, from this weekend's Globe & Mail, provides a fascinating perspective from a black woman who has roots in, and has lived in, both Canada & the U.S.)  

We also have our own issues with police (mis)treatment of those groups. (Here's a story about some of the most (in)famous cases in Toronto from the past three decades.) The same week that George Floyd was murdered, a woman named Regis Korchinski-Paquete fell from her 24th-floor apartment balcony while police were inside her family’s unit. Did she fall? Did she jump? Was she pushed? The details are still murky, and under investigation.  

Perhaps some Canadians think we don't have a problem with racism because they live in largely white communities where they don't know any or many people of colour, and where things are slow to change. Our cities these days are very multicultural and multiracial, but when I was growing up in small towns on the Canadian Prairies in the 1960s & 70s, it was very rare to see anything but white people (and in some places, it still is). There might have been one Asian family in town that ran a Chinese restaurant. There were just three black students among the 500 attending my high school (I knew their names, but not much else about them). 

One exception:  What we did have in abundance was indigenous peoples (or their relatives, the Metis). Back then, we called them Indians or natives.  Many lived on reservations, and their kids were bussed to school (often from some distance away). There was a residential school on the very edge of the town where we lived when I was in junior & senior high school.  It closed right around the time we moved there, in the early/mid-1970s, and is now being turned into a museum. 

I have lots of (other) memories & stories about the way things were then, about how my views were shaped, for better and for worse, and about how things have changed, or not. (I've been thinking a lot about these things over the past two weeks. And sometimes cringing.)  I will say that while I recognize that I still have a long way to go and a lot to learn, I like to think that I've made SOME progress over the years. Partly, I think, because I've spent the past 35 years living in one of the country's/world's most diverse cities;  partly because I spent 28 years working for a diverse, multinational corporation, frequently writing about diversity issues and awareness for the company newsletter and other corporate publications. 

Now that I'm outside of the corporate environment (and especially when I travel back to the largely white small towns where I grew up), I find it's startling to hear some of the racist comments (sometimes veiled, sometimes blatant) made by relatives and others. I am ashamed to admit I have not always called people out on their views. Partly because (as I commented recently on someone's blog), I am probably one of the least confrontational people you will ever meet. Partly because I'm far more articulate on paper/screen than I am verbally, on the spot. I've resolved to try to grow a spine and do better in the future. 

I'm used to being an outsider:  we moved every 3-5 years when I was growing up, so I was always "the new girl" in school;  I was "smart" and bookish in schools where sports & athleticism were the gold standard;  I was & still am one of the few/only non-Italians ("mangiacakes") to marry into my husband's Italian immigrant family. I'm a woman, in a world built by men, to benefit men.  And of course, there's nothing like losing a child, going through infertility and/or being childless to make you aware of your own "otherness" and outsider status in a pronatalist world where parenthood is the norm and it's assumed that everyone who wants a child will have one.  

BUT.  I've never been "othered" because of the colour of my skin. A childless woman of colour will still have to deal with others' perceptions of her race, on top of the same sexism & pronatalism I've had to contend with.  That's sad. And unfair. 

I'm not sure what the solution(s) is/are -- but I'm watching, listening and trying to learn. Trying to be part of the solution, and not part of the problem. I'm sure I'm going to make mistakes (I've probably made some right here).  I'll admit I'm not much for marching and waving signs and chanting slogans, even when there's NOT a pandemic on. But reading and educating ourselves about these issues is an easy first step we can all take -- and so I have bought a few books from some of the recommended reading lists I've seen, and dusted off a few more from my TBR pile (maybe this will be the kick in the butt I need to get reading again...!). I have found a few good social media accounts to follow, recommended by bloggers and Instagrammers I respect. And I am looking at some local organizations that I might want to donate to. 

What gives me hope is that I see others around me thinking and talking and posting about what's been going on, and what they can do to help create lasting & meaningful change. I know "hashtag activism" is cheap, and not everyone will go above and beyond the memes and #blackoutTuesday squares they've posted. But some will, and that's progress. 

I'm also encouraged by the numbers of young people I'm seeing at the protests. A young cousin of mine took it upon herself to stage a one-woman protest, holding up a "Black Lives Matter" sign at a busy intersection in her very white suburb near a large west coast U.S. city this week. She said she had a few people yelling rude things at her, but she got far more friendly waves and "thumbs up" gestures and horns honking in approval.  I'm proud of her. 

I'm also hopeful because a couple of the black activists that I've been following have said that THEY are hopeful, that something seems different to them this time around. Read this Vox interview (or listen to the podcast) with writer Ta-Nehisi Coates, for example. 

What do you think?  What (if anything) gives you hope for the future? 

Odds & ends, postscripts & followups

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! I started the day off by getting my blood pressure checked (!)(120/80, woohoo!), spent a few hours at the spa getting pampered, retrieved my brand-new Kobo e-reader from the transit lost & found (more on that further down -- there are, apparently, still honest people left in the world), & had steaks with dh for dinner at one of our favourite restaurants.

Oh yes, & dh gave me a pair of garnet & diamond earrings (garnets are my birthstone). I had hinted that I would like some birthstone jewelry for this milestone birthday, and he picked up on it. Together with the Swarovski butterfly he gave me for Christmas, he is really knocking them out of the ballpark these days...!



Saturday night, we went over to FIL's to celebrate his 82nd birthday. BIL & family were also there... and surprise! It was also a birthday celebration for me too. : ) I got to share the cake with FIL, and got some presents too. Oldest nephew's girlfriend brought me a beautiful potted orchid plant. And SIL handed me a gift bag. Inside were three smaller enclosures -- from Pandora (eek). There is a Pandora shop close to where I work & I've seen a few women wearing their bracelets, but avoided even looking there, because I knew it was pricey stuff.
BIL & SIL gave me a silver bracelet & started me off with a birthday cake charm. Oldest nephew & his girlfriend gave me an angel charm (!). And youngest nephew (a philosophy student) gave me a jolly looking miniature Buddha, lol.


I was quite floored. When I tried to say thank you, BIL said, "No, thank YOU for everything you've done for the boys." Sniffle.

*** *** ***

As mentioned above, I got a Kobo e-reader for Christmas. And promptly lost it the first time I took it with me to work. :( Dh was working late that night, so I took the train & then the bus home by myself, and was reading the Kobo on both. Slid it into its leather case as we got close to my stop, & then into the side pocket of my briefcase, which was sitting on the seat beside me.
At least, I thought it went into the briefcase. When I got home -- NO KOBO. I looked in every nook & cranny of my briefcase, retraced my steps inside the house since I got home, nothing. I was certain it was gone forever, but thought I'd try calling the lost & found the next day, just in case.
And it was there! Kind of restored my faith in humanity. : ) The only annoyance: the lost & found was located at the transit office in the next town over from ours, & office hours were 7:30-4:30, Monday to Friday. Not exactly convenient for me. So I wound up spending part of my birthday travelling there to retrieve my Kobo. Better than having to ask for time off, I guess.

*** *** ***

Adding to my dismay over losing my Kobo: wouldn't you know it? The book I was reading was this one:


(a) It was a great book, & I wanted to keep reading!!
(b) As the last thing I was reading before I lost my reader, the cover was prominently displayed on the Kobo screen. I sort of felt like a teenager trying to claim my lost box of condoms from the teacher, lol. :p ; ) Fortunately, nobody asked me to identify what I'd been reading, & nobody mentioned it when I went to pick the thing up at the lost & found.

*** *** ***

I did not think e-readers would be for me -- & I can't see myself giving up "real" books entirely (especially when I have PILES of unread ones lying around the house, erk...!), but I am rather enjoying mine. "I'm Taking My Eggs" is the first book I've downloaded (& I hope to have a review shortly), although the Kobo comes pre-loaded with 100 classic titles. I got one for me & one for dh, with a particular eye to reducing our excess luggage weight when we travel. We normally bring along at least two or three books each for a one week vacation -- often hardcovers -- & they can really add to the weight -- & the airlines are getting stickier all the time about excess poundage.

*** *** ***

Kobo incident aside, one more signal that I'm aging &/or losing my mind: on Friday, in a rush to leave the house (as usual), I grabbed the top pair of black shoes in the pile on the closet floor & stuffed them into my briefcase. When I got to work, I unpacked my briefcase, put on my shoes & started walking to the water cooler to fill my water bottle.
Something about my shoes felt weird. I looked down. They were dh's shoes!! I guess he had tossed them on top of my pile when he got in the night before, & I just grabbed them without looking. Serves me right, I guess.
I dined out on that story for the rest of the day. (I posted it on Facebook, & stepSIL told me she read it on her cellphone at 3 a.m. & cracked up.) They weren't a bad fit, but I spent most of my time at my desk in stocking feet, lol. It was either that or wear my snow boots all day -- and I HATE wearing my snow boots indoors any longer than I have to.

*** *** ***

In my hurry to post my thoughts about the diversity & inclusion workshop I attended recently, I managed to leave out the most important part: the end. The facilitator wrapped up an already-thought-provoking session by telling us his personal story & why he does the work he does -- & there was a flurry of Kleenex by the time he finished speaking. There is a video clip on his personal website.
One thing he said to us which he didn't say on the video was how his mother used to tell him, "You're a tall tree, and tall trees can withstand strong winds." And he added that the tall trees shelter the smaller trees, until they grow strong enough to withstand the winds on their own.
I thought about it again after reading the transcript of President Obama's speech in Tucson this past week -- particularly the part where he said, "Let us use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each other more carefully, to sharpen our instincts for empathy, and remind ourselves of all the ways our hopes and dreams are bound together.... We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another is entirely up to us."
It made me think of Melissa, & the work she does to bring our ALI community together, and Kumbaya. : )

*** *** ***

Craig Kielburger -- who became an activist & founded an organization called Free the Children when he was all of TWELVE YEARS OLD and has appeared on Oprah -- was the special guest speaker at a company-sponsored event on Friday at lunchtime. He was an amazing speaker -- still isn't even 30 yet. Made me feel that I have accomplished absolutely nothing worthwhile in my life to date, lol... but I digress.
He talked about how companies like mine are recognizing the fact that we are not just employees, that our life is not just our work at the office, that we are members of broader communities. "You're a mother, a father," he said.
And then he added, "You're an aunt, an uncle."
I could have hugged the guy for going beyond the obvious appeal to parents. Thanks, Craig. : )

Bridges: Choosing to live childfree... for whatever reason

This is my first submission to the new Bridges site (which I wrote about earlier this weekend).

My husband & I set off down the road of childless/free living in the summer of 2001, after several years of trying to to conceive, both on our own & through fertility treatments, one surprise pregnancy that ended at 26 weeks in stillbirth, several rounds of Clomid, three IUI cycles using ever-increasing doses of Puregon & Gonal-F, and a prescription for Ativan to combat a sudden onset of anxiety attacks.

Blogs were practically unheard of back then -- but I did find a message board for women who were living without children, not as a first choice, that became my lifeline. The board opened my eyes to a whole new world of women who, like me, had once hoped and assumed they would be mothers, but found their lives heading in a much different direction. Together, we struggled to make sense of the new life we found ourselves leading.

There were women who, like me, had experienced infertility, loss, and even failed attempts to adopt before calling it quits and trying to move on to a different chapter in their lives.

There were some who had medical conditions that made it difficult, dangerous, or impossible for them to attempt or sustain a pregnancy, and also made them less desirable candidates as adoptive parents.

There were some whose husbands seemed agreeable to having children at first but, when the time came, suddenly announced that they did not want to have kids after all, sending the marriage into a tailspin. Or the husbands were clear from the start that they did not want any more children, which the wife accepted at first, and then (as her biological clock started winding down) gradually realized that she really did want one of her own. Their wives were then faced with a decision: do I stay in this marriage (which might still be pretty good in other respects), and try to accept never having children of my own? Or do I leave my husband and, in the few short years of fertility that are left to me, try to find a new partner who is willing to try to have children with me (assuming that we can)? Or do I attempt to become a single mother?

There were some who found themselves stepmothers to their husbands' children from previous marriages. Some of these husbands did not want any more children. Sometimes, the husbands were willing, but had vasectomies that could not be successfully reversed.

There were some who assumed they would be mothers whose lives were thrown into turmoil when their husbands suddenly left them, sometimes in the midst of infertility treatments.

There was another board for women who had made a deliberate choice to live childfree (with an emphasis on the FREE). (Our boards would refer people back & forth to each other, as appropriate.) Some of these women did NOT like children, and were not afraid to let people know about it. Others liked children a lot -- just so long as they were somebody else's. For whatever reason, they did not want to assume the responsibility of parenthood.

I already knew there were people like this (my own sister, for one). I grew up during the 1970s & 80s, when the feminist movement was in full flower and all sorts of choices seemed possible. I didn't think it was odd or wrong that some women might not want to have children. Heck, if you don't want children, then don't have them -- spare the poor kids. I actually have a great deal of respect for people who have thought these things through carefully and made an informed decision about their ability to be a good parent. I know far too many people who got pregnant, accidentally or mindlessly or far before they were emotionally or financially mature enough to handle the responsibilities of parenthood. Some of them even admitted that if they had to do it again, they wouldn't have children. (That was part of my reason for delaying pregnancy. I wanted children someday -- but only when I was sure I was good & "ready" for them.)

So there are many, many complex reasons why a woman might not be a mother. You would think that people would realize that -- but it quickly became obvious to me that childless/free (for whatever reason) people are a minority (in a society that currently seems crazy for all things pregnancy and baby-related) -- albeit a growing one -- and are susceptible to some of the same sorts of assumptions, misconceptions and mislabelling that other minority groups have experienced before us. And that it's very difficult to some people to think beyond the boundaries of their own experiences.

As I read the posts by childfree by choice women, I realized that, although we have come to this life from very different places, we actually have a lot in common -- certainly in the way we are viewed by the rest of the world (parents in particular) and pressured to produce children -- something we're either incapable or unwilling to do.

Many people assume that if you don't have kids, you don't want them (because of course, anyone can be a parent these days, with those miracle fertility treatments or through adoption!!) . If you actually didn't want children, it can be equally aggravating to have people think that it must be because there's "something wrong" with you (physically -- or maybe mentally). If you tell people you can't have children, it's sometimes assumed to be your "fault," because you "waited too long" or "put your career first." The word "selfish" is often used to describe childless/free couples, no matter what their story is or why they haven't reproduced.

There's a tendency in our "instant message" society to look for the simple explanation, the neat pigeonhole. If there's anything the last 10 years or so have taught me, it's that there's no such thing. I've learned not to make hasty judgments, at least until I've walked a mile in the other person's moccasins. I've learned that life is not always a black and white thing -- that there are endless shades of grey.

I've learned that life is a journey -- & you never know the twists & turns the road is going to take.

And I've learned that sometimes you have to make a hard choice -- and you find yourself wandering down the road less travelled.

Vacation, all I ever wanted...

(cue The Go-Gos, lol)

Even my boss said, "You've earned it" as I walked out the office door tonight & into two weeks of vacation. My feet have been pedicured, my hair has been cut, and I feel the burden of work lifting from my shoulders. Woohoo!! Soon I'll be flying home to the comforts of my parents' house. Even at age 47, I still like being spoiled by my mommy & daddy. ; )

At the same time, my feelings are mixed, because we're rapidly approaching the 10-year "anniversary" of Katie's stillbirth, next week. (Vacation?? Mmmm, not quite...) I don't feel prepared. (But are we ever prepared?) I've been working madly on a few "anniversary" posts to publish next week (which is one reason why my commenting activities have been sadly lacking lately). Most of the material is "repurposed" from some old postings to an e-mail support group I once belonged to, but I've still been finding it difficult, editing, embellishing, and digging up those memories all over again.

Perhaps it's appropriate that Stirrup Queen Mel's latest blogging venture is kicking off this week. Following up on the foundations laid at the BlogHer conference earlier this month, Mel has created a site called Bridges to help build greater awareness and understanding among various blogging communities -- not just infertility & loss-related, but also including topics such as cancer, parenting special needs children, addictions, allergies and mental health. She describes it as "a consortium of compassionate bloggers who are looking to use writing to educate, tell a story, bring awareness, and build community." Go over, have a look, and add your blog to the community blogroll.

The site will include a Living Childfree After Infertility & Loss section, and I'm thrilled that Mel has asked me to be a contributing editor, alongside of Pamela Jeanne. She & I will be contributing our own posts -- but we're also looking to share posts from others that lend some insight into childfree living -- so please let us know if you spot any that fit the bill!

Building bridges

Mel's BlogHer column this week dealt with issues arising from last weekend's BlogHer conference, including the matter of building bridges between mommybloggers & those of us in the infertility community. She posed five questions to us on this topic. Here are my answers:

We are all complex human beings with multiple interests. I could just as easily ended up with a vegetarian blog or a twin-parenting blog or a Jewish blog. Why did I end up with an infertility blog? What is the overriding theme of your blog and why? This question, of course, can be answered by any type of blogger in order to start this conversation.

My blog is about living childless/free after stillbirth and infertility.

Why did I wind up with this kind of blog (vs another topic)? Infertility & loss have cast a huge shadow over my life over the past 10 years and continue to be an issue. Even though my dh & I are no longer ttc, we still continue to deal with the fallout, & with the struggle to live without children in a pronatalist world.

What do you hope to achieve personally and externally with your blog?

My blog is first & foremost for me. I've always found writing to be cathartic, & I started blogging to help me work out some of the memories & feelings as I have as I approach the 10-year "anniversary" of my daughter's stillbirth, and the ongoing difficulty of living without children in a world gone mad for pregnant women & babies (at least, that's how it seems…!). I also wanted to take part in Mel's online book club! : )

I also noticed, when I went looking for blogs written by other women who are childless but not by choice, that there's not a lot of us out there (or resources of any kind for this group, for that matter). I'm happy to add my voice to strengthen the choir. : ) Cultivating an audience is not among my specific goals or priorities -- but if my blog happens to touch or speak to other women dealing with the same life issues as I have/am, & promote dialogue on the issues arising from childless/free living, that can only be a good thing.

Do you think a bridge needs to be built between communities in the larger blogosphere in order to foster understanding (in other words, between infertility blogger and mommy bloggers or two other groups)?

I do. But I wonder, if you asked a typical (non-infertile) parent this question, what their response would be. I doubt they have given the topic very much thought, unless someone close to them has been dealing with infertility (& perhaps not even then).

How do you go about building these bridges? If we build bridges, will people cross them?

I'm not sure. I guess that first (as above), we need to demonstrate that there is a chasm. Some people might have to be led there. : ) As I said before, I'm not sure it's occurred to some fertile people that a problem exists.

Then they need to hear the "what's in it for me?" angle -- why it's in their interest/how it will benefit them & their families to help build & cross the bridge. I do think that, once people become aware that there is an issue, most of them will give us a respectful hearing.

What do you think is gained and lost by opening up a community (making it more accessible, inviting outsiders to comment, explaining the shorthand abbreviations)? If you aren't a member of a community, would you feel comfortable crossing a bridge that was placed in front of you?

What is gained: hopefully a greater understanding and awareness of what our lives are like and the issues we face as infertile women, and greater sensitivity to our them.

What is lost: building bridges opens us up to the possibility of greater understanding & awareness -- but also to the greater possibility of being hurt, whether intentionally or unintentionally, from people who don't understand our perspective and judge our decisions without having walked a mile in our moccasins.