Ooh, comments!! : )

Came home tonight, logged onto the Dashboard & was amazed to see how many comments had piled up in just two days to be moderated. (I actually have an audience out there?? lol) Thank you all for your kind feedback -- they should all be up now -- forgive the novice. ; ) Ahh, the power of the Internet (& Mel's wonderful blog in particular!). ; )

November's Chatelaine magazine

At home with a cold today & catching up on my reading, I picked up the November issue of Chatelaine magazine (a top Canadian women's magazine). Two pieces I particularly enjoyed: first, the cover interview with Sandra Oh. (I have never seen an episode of Grey's Anatomy, but I have seen & loved her in lots of other TV shows & movies.) Oh talks about being 36 and the last childless woman among her friends. The article says:

These days, motherhood is Hollywood's hottest accoutrement: look at Katie Holmes, Kate Hudson, Angelina Jolie. When an actress hits her thirties without children, it somehow becomes a public obsession, a la Jennifer Aniston. Why are we so fixated on the reproductive lives of our celebrities -- or, rather, our female celebrities? 

"Oh God, the definition of 'feminine' without children definitely needs to be explored. What is that? As soon as you don't have a child, there are certain stereotypes, whether it's spinster or lesbian, that always fall on you," says Oh. "I have to constantly clear that noise: 'That's not me, that's not me.' I don't necessarily know what is me, but I know what's not. That's the challenge of every artist, maybe every human being. Who are you? What are people putting on you? You've got to peel it away." ...

"I would be very willing to explore that idea of women without children within the context of our show. I mean, what I hope our show continues to explore is feminine power. I really think that's why people love it so much." 

The other item I enjoyed was a column by Katrina Onstad (who also did the interview with Sandra Oh) -- this month about egg freezing and titled Great Egg-spectations. A couple of choice quotes:

"Generally, I'm in favour of measures that increase women's reproductive options, but all these uncooked eggs make me queasy."

"For more than 30 years, men have donated sperm, and nobody blinked. But this is motherhood, always publicly debated and held up for judgment, in all shapes, in all forms. Some things, at least, never change."

Observations while home from work with a cold...

1. This is one of those days when I'm grateful that I don't children. I can wallow in my own misery, take a nap & pretty well do what I please, without having to worry about taking care of anyone else.
2. Daytime television is a wasteland. I've spent most of the day on the computer, and am counting the minutes until "Oprah" is on -- & praying she has a good guest.
3. Daytime television is full of pregnant women, babies & mommy talk, and it's very difficult to escape it. For example: on days when I'm home from work, I like to watch NBC's Today show. Yesterday morning, one of the regulars announced her pregnancy on air. I had to flip the channel. This morning, they had a maternity wear fashion show, with sultry models sporting baby bumps. Click! I need something to help me feel BETTER, not worse!!
4. This may partly be a function of the weather, but nobody seems to be at home during the day anymore.
5. Looking out the window & seeing the teenagers from the local Catholic high school meandering along in their hiked up kilts & blouses unbuttoned down to eye-popping depths is another of those moments when I'm glad I don't have kids (those adorable babies eventually turn into teenagers!!). Eeeekk!!

The Sudbury abduction case

I started writing this post a few days ago about a recent event several hundred miles to the north of where I live. Then I came across this post from Aurelia, & she's said it much better than I did. (Great minds think alike -- I was even ranting about the misuse of the term "miscarriage.")

I will add these thoughts from my original draft:

When I first heard about the baby who had disappeared from a hospital in Sudbury this past week, I started praying. Not only for the baby's safe return to its parents, but also: "Please, please, don't let it be a bereaved or infertile woman." Call it a hunch. And I was right. :(

Initially, I felt sorry for myself, and the other bereaved parents/infertile couples that I know. There is so much stigma attached to grief & infertility as it is. People go out of their way to avoid us as it is (if only because they simply don't know what to say to us). The last thing on earth bereaved parents need is having people think that we're so unhinged by our grief that we're out to steal their babies. (The Globe article emphasized that baby abductions are a very, very rare occurrence.)

I most certainly cannot condone or excuse abducting babies from hospitals -- how many hundreds of women lose pregnancies every single day who would never dream of doing something like that? -- but at the same time, I can't help but feel at least a little sorry for the abductor. As a bereaved parent myself, I know how the loss of a baby can sometimes leave you teetering on the bridge of sanity. And not only did she lose a baby, the Globe & Mail also reported that she looked after her father until he died of cancer last year, and that she was diagnosed with cancer herself after his death. Dh & I had the benefit of attending a support group (as well as the Internet ) -- I can't imagine there are a lot of support groups for bereaved parents or cancer patients or caregivers in Kirkland Lake. And Lord knows, a woman is nothing without a baby in her arms or in her belly -- at least, that's what the popular culture right now is telling us, isn't it?

I imagine there is more to this story than is known or can be told right now. I'll be following the case with interest.

"Wonderful Tonight"

I love to read (although the Internet has cut substantially into my reading time over the last several years...!) & I love the Beatles. (One of my earliest movie memories is of my mother taking me as a pre-schooler to see "Help!" which, coincidentally, is just being released on DVD for the first time this week. For years afterward, I had dreams about falling through trap doors into cellars with tigers, Ringo's ring stuck on my finger.)

So I couldn't resist snatching up Pattie Boyd's new book "Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and Me" a few weeks back. Pattie, for those of you not familiar with her, was a top British model during the Swinging 60s who met George during the filming of "A Hard Day's Night." (She plays one of the schoolgirls who are thrilled to find the Beatles aboard their train to London.) George wrote the beautiful ballad "Something" about her. George's best friend, Eric Clapton, also fell for Pattie & wooed her with the passionate song "Layla." In the end, Pattie left George for Eric.

My love for all things Beatle (& my weakness for celebrity memoirs!) aside, Pattie's story intrigued me for another reason -- because I had heard that she left Clapton when she learned that another woman was pregnant with his child, after years of trying to have a baby herself. (Sadly, the child was the little boy, Conor, who died after tumbling out of the window of a 53rd-floor apartment in New York. Clapton wrote "Tears in Heaven" about him.)

"I had been trying to have a baby for twenty-one years, and this woman had slept with my husband once or twice and was carrying his child," she writes on page 246. "I thought my heart was about to disintegrate."

On the next page, she writes of hearing about the baby's birth while staying with friends in France -- two of whom were pregnant at the time. "Everyone seemed to be pregnant except me. I was thrilled for them of course, but I found it hard. I was forty-two and my marriage was on its last legs, so I had to face the unpalatable fact that I might never have a child." Later, on page 255, she writes, "I met friends for lunch and felt as though i was in a bubble, watching us eating and chatting: I had nothing in common with their world of husbands and children."

What infertile woman could not relate??

Pattie does not mention any of the many miscarriages she is rumoured to have had, and her struggles with infertility are only a small part of the book -- yet I found myself marking those few pages & going back to them over & over again. Infertility is so seldom written about, particularly as part of a person's broader life story, so it's nice to see someone being frank & open about such as sensitive topic and the impact that infertility has had on their life.

On page 166, she writes "Cooking was my thing. Having given up modeling full-time, and with no children, I needed to find some role for myself, some raison d'etre. Preparing wonderful meals for George and all the people who came to Friar Park became a passion." She later writes of the emptiness she felt when she realized her marriage was over & her chances of having children had run out. Eventually, she finds a new passion behind the lens as a photographer.

Finding a role or "raison d'etre" in life is something that all women struggle with, I think, and infertile women in particular. If I'm not going to be a mommy, then who am I and what am I going to do with our life?

Running into an old acquaintance near the end of the book, Pattie introduces herself, saying, "I used to be Pattie Boyd," and the friend responds, "You still are!" It is so easy to become defined by labels -- "George's wife" -- "Katie's mommy" -- "Senior Manager of Widget Production" -- and lose touch with the essence of who we are. For many women, the role of mother is all-consuming -- but once the children are grown up and have left home or carved out their independence, they find themselves struggling with questions of who they are and what they want to do with their lives now. Those of us who thought we were going to be mothers but never did just have to answer those same questions at an earlier stage in our lives.

Personally, I am still fumbling my way toward the answers -- but I've always believed -- had to believe -- that a meaningful life without children is possible -- and that my life has value, regardless of whether I can procreate.

Clapton has written his own autobiography, which I also just purchased, but haven't read yet. It will be interesting to see how his version of events stacks up against hers.

Am I childLESS or childFREE?

This is a subject of endless debate on every relevant board or site I've visited. 

I understand the power of words and desire to put a positive spin on things. Perhaps childLESS does sound a little pathetic or forlorn (and if there's one thing I hate, it's being the object of pity). I may be "less" or lacking a child, but I don't believe that means my life is any less interesting or valuable or valid than a parent's. It's just different. 

But to me, childFREE isn't quite right either, because it implies that we are happy to be "free" of children, as though we consider them a burden, when nothing could be further from the truth. It does not reflect the battle we went through to try to have a very much wanted child, or our struggle in trying to decide when enough was enough and when we should stop treatment, or the struggle we've had to find new meaning in our life since then. If I am FREE of anything, it is the burden of infertility treatment!! 

The term childFREE is also widely used by people who do not want to have children, & I think it creates a lot of confusion in the eyes of the fertile community. Some childfree by choice sites can be extremely anti-child. Nevertheless, I do enjoy visiting some of them. We have a lot in common, in the way we are viewed by society & the situations we find ourselves in (including having to explain and sometimes defend ourselves) -- and the women (& men) on these sites are extremely clear about the advantages of not having children. Sometimes, that's a message we need to hear! 

One of the best such sites/blogs I've found is Purple Women -- lots of thoughtful, reasoned commentary on living without children (albeit by choice) in a world geared to parents & kids. I'm not sure I can call myself a "Purple Woman" by their definition. Lavender, perhaps?? Anyway, my solution, until something better comes along, is usually to use the term "childless/(slash) free" in my writing. 

And of course, I am actually not childless/free at all. I am a mother -- Katie's mother -- but that's another post for another day...

November: The cruellest month

T.S. Eliot wrote that "April is the cruellest month." Now, for me, February has always been my least favourite month -- cold & dreary, and right in the middle of that loooonnngggg stretch between Christmas & Easter with no long weekends to break up the monotony (although Ontario's new Family Day holiday may now help in that regard!).

But when I think of "the cruellest month," for me, it has to be November. November was always my second-least-favourite month -- cold and grey and dead -- redeemed somewhat by the Remembrance Day bank holiday and the promise of Christmas to look forward to -- although tempered by the mad year-end rush at my workplace (fiscal year end October 31st, year end results released late November/early December, followed by annual report, annual meeting in March, etc. -- all of which involve me.).

Back in 1998, I had something to look forward to in November. I was 37 years old, married 13 years and, after some 2.5 years of trying to conceive, finally pregnant! & due November 14th (later revised to November 20th, & then 25th). I fantasized about being able to watch the Toronto Santa Claus Parade from the window of my hospital room with my baby in my arms. But when November finally came around, there was no baby. Our daughter, Katie, was stillborn in August when I was 26 weeks along. I went back to work in October (even though I could have stayed off until December -- long story) and so, instead of enjoying the first few days of motherhood & maternity leave (thus escaping the year-end hell at the office), I found myself back at my desk, trying to focus on my work instead of what had just happened to me, & resenting every minute of it.

Now, nine years later, I still feel twinges of sadness instead of joy when the Santa Claus Parade is on TV -- and as I run around at work & try to squeeze in some Christmas planning, I keep thinking that I should be planning a little girl's birthday party too. Life is unfair. :( And November is a month that I am glad to see go by quickly.