Day Seven

It's already Friday. We are officially 39 weeks! We saw A. last night and she is looking beautiful as always. She's so calm and collected. Everything is progressing well and she simply said, "The baby will come when she's ready to come." It's almost absurd how lucky we are to have her. Even more so after hearing this week from two good friends about their recent losses after a long struggle to conceive. Even though we are about to have our baby, it still reminds me of all my losses. I can still so easily taste that devastation. Those wounds have been healing but they don't ever disappear.

TOP TEN WAYS TO PRACTICE THE ART OF BEING INFERTILE:

10. Arm Yourself with Information, But Accept the Unanswerable.

9. Find Other Infertiles.

8. Tune out the noise.

7. It's okay to be angry.

Theoretically, in the face of all the anguish and loss of infertility, you are suppose to "stay positive." I tried and tried with all my might to think "positive" and to not let myself get engulfed with bitterness. But ultimately I think it's really asking the impossible of infertiles to not be pissed off. I mean, we go through hell emotionally and physically only to get screwed over countless times? We have to watch everyone around us get what we want so easily and without effort? I really think we can all give ourselves permission to be angry. Let the inner inferno out. How do you get it out? Go see a therapist, vent to fellow infertiles, write a blog, get a punching bag, scream at the top of your lungs, close your eyes and blast some music and give the finger to all who have pissed you off.

Day Eight

Instead of waking up this morning ready to enjoy another day of waiting, I woke up to a broken tooth. I had a root canal a couple weeks ago and my stupid temporary tooth broke. In a mad rush, I found a dentist here and was able to get it fixed but he told me I really should get the permanent crown put on right away. According to his schedule, he wants me to be in his dental chair on my due date! What a perfect way to miss the delivery of my baby. Now if I were pregnant, I could easily say, "Dude, I am going to have a baby, I can't do this right now." But once again, I had to make a choice - Do I explain myself to this random dentist in a city I don't live in, or do I just walk away? So I walked away.

TEN WAYS TO PRACTICE THE ART OF BEING INFERTILE:

10. Arm Yourself with Information, But Accept the Unanswerable.

9. Find Other Infertiles.

8. Tune out the noise.

When you are dealing with infertility treatments, there is a plethora of chatter, uproar and judgments among your friends, family, and the general public. First, people will offer you idiotic advise or tell you that you just need to relax. Then when you still don't get pregnant, they might start to look at you awkwardly or with pity and say even more stupid things. Then, to add insult to injury, we, as infertiles, are part of a larger public debate that lets total ignorant strangers think they can tell you what to do with your body. Though there are certainly times we need to fight back, to talk back, to try to educate, there are also times to IGNORE. Most of the time the noise around us about infertility just exacerbates the situation. Know who in your life are the noisy ones and who are the ones that can be of true support.

Day Nine

Another lazy day of waiting. It's amazing what you can do with so much downtime. With this much time on my hands, I was able to unsubscribe from all my email junk mails. I even went on Facebook. Uh oh, things are getting dangerously boring. I must go out tomorrow.

TOP TEN WAYS TO PRACTICE THE ART OF BEING INFERTILE:


10. Arm Yourself with Information, but Accept the Unanswerable.
9. Find Other Infertiles.
Misery loves company- right? Well, it's so much more than that when you really look at the other women you have met along this journey. Until I started going on bulletin boards and blogging, I was the only one in my world who was infertile. Friends and family were popping out babies left and right and I wanted to die. When I found other women struggling, going through IVF cycles, considering all sort of crazy stuff like donor egg and surrogacy, I found a world that I belonged in. Suddenly complete strangers were hearing my most intimate thoughts. Women in New York were bold enough to ask me out for coffee. We were instantly connected. The bond runs deep.

Though the infertile club membership is not a choice, it's forced upon us, embrace it. Other infertile people know what the hell to say to you. They know how to comfort. They know the mountain of stress you are undergoing. The friends I have made through this journey are like no other. The mothers who have gone through infertility are the first people on my list I want to spend mommy time with. In a different kind of world the infertile club wouldn't be seen as the crappy coach seats while our peers lived it up in first class. It wouldn't make people feel like they have to be covert, ashamed, and ostracized. In my world, being a card carrying member of the infertiles would give you pride because the way I see it, if you are infertile than you are a survivor. Things didn't come easy to you and you fought your way through it. It represents a kind of sisterhood there should be among all women, instead of women judging women.

Day Ten

The eagle has landed. I am now at my destination and must entertain myself for 10 days or longer until this baby is born. If you thought the two week wait was long, this seems like eons. A. is feeling a little more uncomfortable and her dilation and effacement are progressing but nothing signaling it's labor time. So I just have to sit back and enjoy the ride.

In order to kill time, I've decided that this ten day countdown should be a time of reflection. When starting this blog, my mission was to write about how I deal with life as an infertile. Is there a way of being infertile with a little panache, depth, perspective and humor? I still believe whole-heartedly that though it is clear there is an art to getting pregnant, there is equally an art to being infertile. So I will unveil over these finals days my:

TOP TEN WAYS TO PRACTICE THE ART OF BEING INFERTILE:

10. Arm Yourself with Information, but Accept the Unanswerable.
When I so naively started trying to conceive at age 34, I knew deep down that this could possibly not work. I was aware of age issues, but my understanding of infertility was pathetic. I truly thought there was just one test that you took that determined if you were infertile or not. Instead of going to an RE right away, I waited a year with my regular OBGYN and didn't really shop around. I think all of us veterans know now that there are so many fertility doctors and so many questions that you don't really know up from down when you start. Ask a lot of questions. Make sure all your choices are clear. But even though there are so many times we ask- WHY? WHY? WHY? - there are unfortunate people like myself who never really got any answers or concrete diagnosis from her doctors. Just like the serenity prayer says,

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
The courage to change the things that I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.

Operation Baby

Unlike most mothers-to-be that must devise a game plan for the birth of their baby, an intended mother embarks on an entire mission. The idea of going to your local hospital, give birth, and go home is laughable. Like a secret agent given a complicated, urgent, and death-defying assignment, I must execute like a finely tuned machine - synchronized and masterminded with design.

At so many points of the last 3 years, this moment could only appear to be "Mission IMPOSSIBLE." Huffing and puffing on the hamster wheel of infertility, the concept of "Mission Accomplished" seemed like it could never be. But now as I am about to step on a plane today to close out Operation Baby, I see myself as the seasoned agent, not the rookie. I know how to jump through hoops, dodge bullets, sniff out liars, strategize next steps, outsmart enemies, wield my weapons, and stay on target.

So as I begin the final 10 day countdown to our due date (Jan.29th), I have had to orchestrate quite a lot in these final weeks before the grand finale. Here is my checklist:

Decide the exact right amount of time to a book a flight to destination before delivery - A delicate balance between not being too early, but not too late so that you miss the entire delivery.

Book a hotel with a kitchen- going to be our baby's first home.

Make sure all your Pre-Birth Order legal paper work is done. When using a surrogate, a lot of states let intended parents fill out a pre-birth orders so that their names will be on the birth certificate as soon as the baby is born.

Make a list of important contact numbers and name it "Operation Baby."

Find a place near surrogate to rent a breast pump.

Take infant care and  CPR class.

Register for and pack Cord Blood kit.

Ship all baby clothes, gear and supplies to A. ahead of time so you don't have to lug it on the plane.

Pack your own bag of clothes so that at any moment if your surrogate calls and says she is in labor you can jump on a plane.

Find a meaningful gift for your surrogate.

In our case, delays in renovations to our apartment has forced us to go with an emergency back up plan after birth. Live with my parents until apartment is done. Then drive back to New York City. This means I pack for two different places I will live before I bring our baby home. Not easy, not ideal, but once again, better than infertility.

Find three pediatricians. One at home in New York City. One near A. and one near my parents.

Pack up apartment before construction begins.

Wrap up all loose administrative ends in your life.

See as many friends as you can before you get so absorbed and sleep deprived.

Go to a museum. Go hear live music. Go to a movie theater. Go to a great restaurant.


I know that change is disruptive, bumpy, and disorienting. And though nothing can truly make you fully prepared, we as humans try our best to try to think of everything we can to divert disaster. Especially if disaster has already knocked on your door two, three, four times already. It even has made me think through what I might be losing as I step into parenthood. I have over thought so much of why I want a baby, I also want to be mentally prepared to lose other things in my life because of it. In wanting a baby so much, I keep reassuring myself that I have accepted all that comes with it. It's funny to think about the life you are leaving behind when all I could ever think about before was the life I felt I couldn't have. It feels a little like we are shipping out to war as we say our good-byes and do our last hurrahs before life changes as we know it. Of course there are certain freedoms, certain luxuries, certain impulses when you are childless that I might never have again, but life is taking me in a new direction. We are literally walking out of our apartment and when we return it will be a completely new place.

I cannot thank all of you enough for staying with me through this journey. Please join me for my ten day countdown. Like all countdowns, our hearts pump a little faster with every descending number, knowing that whatever is about to launch will change our lives forever.

Okay, I think I can do this...

Everyone knows that you don't have to be a rocket scientist to know how to take care of a baby. It does generally fall under the common sense category of your brain. But perhaps all this infertility has made me a little insecure about my care taking ability - like since I am missing the fertile gene, maybe I am missing the baby care gene. So I signed up for an infant care class to boost some confidence.

My husband couldn't make it to class so I invited another intended mother to come along for the ride. Safety always in numbers. Who wants to be in a class full of huge pregnant women and not only be alone, but on top of that, not even pregnant. I could only imagine the guessing games in people's minds when looking at me - "Maybe she is training to be a nanny?" "Maybe she is adopting?" "Maybe she is a single women going to use donor sperm?" "Maybe she is in the wrong class?"

It felt much more fun to have another intended mother with me to up the ante. "Maybe they are lesbians adopting?" But once the class began and we all got our dolls, the jig was up. We had to ask for another baby doll for my friend, explaining we are both expecting and our husbands couldn't make it. "Oh!" I heard whispered under breaths. No one asked further about why neither of us are pregnant. We'll assume they don't care, or they settled on the adoption conclusion.

The nurse then slid in a DVD which began talking about post mother care. Obviously this was a snooze-fest for me. I don't need to know what oozes out of you after a baby is born. That's not something I will ever experience. So my mind wandered, waiting for more relevant information to present itself on the TV screen.

I focused on my doll. He/She is suppose to be newborn size so I was taken aback by the size. The doll seemed quite large, or at least larger than I thought. I stared at her for a while. I moved her arms and legs. I started playing with her rubbery toes and fingers. I looked into the doll's slightly creepy eyes. I stuck the thumb in the mouth. I held her in my arms. All in all, my doll and I bonded.

It then started to get fun. It started to feel not so scary. I covered her with a towel. I sponged bathed her eyes, face, chest, legs, arms. I changed the diaper and put a fresh one on. I put the onsie on correctly and then added the stretchie PJs. I picked her up and cradled her. I burped her. There wasn't much hesitation in doing any of these tasks. Granted this is not a live baby crying, squirming, or pooping. But there was something a little hard-wired about what I was physically doing to this doll.

I was never a kid who played with dolls all that much. My thing was stuffed animals. I never saw myself as a woman who from day one dreamed of being a mom. I believed I was a late bloomer on this front, not wanting this until in my 30s. But in this short period of time with the baby doll, I remembered moments as a child pretending to be a mom. I can remember a plastic baby bottle that had fake milk in it that bubbled when turned toward the mouth. I remember even dressing my teddy bear in baby clothes. There was indeed an early piece of me that had this desire. Like every little girl, I was told that this would be part of my future.

The Great Surrogacy Quilt of 2010

As I ended 2009 amidst all the recent noise in the world over surrogacy, I quietly settled into one of the greatest craft traditions of quilting. Imagine me in a log cabin with a peaceful blanket of winter snow outside the window. A fire is burning. The skeletal trees sway  against the gray sky as speckles of snowflakes glisten and dance. The sound of my nieces and nephews laughter hum from the basement below. A mug of hot tea sits next to my sewing machine, steam swirling above it. My sister and sister-in-law pick up a thread and needle to pitch in. A picturesque scene. A framed memory that you want to extend as long as you can because in that moment you are in the blissful state of knowing something good is coming.

What I love about quilting is how it becomes another form of story-telling. Either the quilt squares narrate something or the fabrics come from a long history of clothing and scraps and family woven together to make something new.

This is precisely how I am living my life. I have to take all the scraps of the pass 3 years of infertility and make them into something new. I need to start 2010 with only one voice in my head, my own. Despite all the public debate, criticisms, and concerns about what my husband and I have embarked upon, I know that what is happening is a beautiful thing- I am finally making my family. I have pieced together a certain clarity and hope through the mess of loss and pain. Now more than ever I know that the thread that held this all together was surrogacy.

As I thought about gifts I would like to give A. after she delivers our baby girl, it dawned on me that a quilt telling her history of surrogacy would be the perfect project. Being able to document the babies she has brought to life felt absolutely right.