In a moment

I've been cranky lately. Maybe it's the weather change combined with things being up in the air, but my mood hasn't been the best lately. This morning on the bus wasn't much different. Hiding behind a pair of sunglasses I attempted to distract myself for all the negative, growing more agitated with all the heavy traffic and how late I was running.

After an hour I decided walking 2 miles would be faster. So off the bus I hopped, passing a long line of cars and finding myself frustrated by the number of times I had to cross the street due to construction.

Then I saw the police lights. Followed by multiple filming crews. Suddenly I found myself on a block totally devoid of traffic. Police tape wrapped around a large intersection. And then the red curtains.

People on both sides just staring.

"He's dead," someone whispered into their phone.

"Never try to outrun a semi," another said.

Just like that, getting into work didn't matter. Experimental plans could be modified. What mattered more was checking in with Grey and checking on the Beats. Because in a moment it can all be gone. Today some family has to face that.

#Microblog Mondays: Kissing Frogs

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.


On Tuesday, I found myself sitting in a small office at the medical school. On the other side of the table is the coordinator for a program I had applied for. Grabbing a box of tissues, she passes them to me before saying "I'm so sorry." And with that, we talked. We talk about the position I thought was a golden opportunity and about how the faculty who have been doing the interviews had completely cut her out of the loop. How she thinks I would be terribly bored and frustrated with the fellowship the way these faculty have been running it. I listen as she vents her frustration and anger, threatening out loud to terminate the position all together as the faculty are not meeting the criteria of the program and are treating the fellow like a slave.

Then she looks at me and confesses her confusion that someone with my background and experience would even need this type of training. "Don't get me wrong, I would love to work with you," she states, "but Cristy, you don't need this. With the postdoc you're completing now, you're more than qualified to take on the job market." And with that, we talked about options and things for me to consider. That she wants me to continue to use the resources she's generously allowed me access to these past few months and is happy to help in anyway. But it also was clear I need to start thinking outside the box as there are options I'm not even aware of yet. It's just a matter of tapping into them

And with that, I found myself in extremely scary territory: I'm officially job hunting

**********************

In a way, job hunting involves kissing a lot of frogs. You find yourself going down one path or another, trying on the different options to see if there's a fit. Some frogs seem right from the beginning only to fizzle out, while others are ones you need to check off the list with a firm "NO." Still, there are some frogs that do pan out, becoming more that what was initially expected.

Thing with all this kissing is you never know. Hence the importance of some good lip balm and a tooth brush.

***********************

For the last week, I've been putting the pieces back together and trying to figure out how to make this next step. The truth of the matter is that most PhDs are trained for an academic setting. We format our CVs to emphasize publications and who we trained with. But the rest of the world doesn't exist this way. Skills are the emphasis and the ability to show you can integrate all you've learn over the past 6-10 yrs into the real world is highly valued. The problem is we're not taught how to do this. Slowly there have been talks, panels and career fairs that allow for connections, but breaking into industry, nonprofit or government isn't as seamless as many assume it will be.

Still, I've never done well competing with hundreds of people for anything. I like thinking outside the box and working in ways most hadn't considered. Most importantly, I'm still very passionate about science education and communication. There's a need.

So I've been slowly activating my network; reaching out to those I know who are working in positions that just sound cool. I've been learning to network, looking into joining organizations and finally dusting off my Linked.In profile (feel free to contact me if you want to connect). But most importantly has been a mental shift. Of being willing to look into options for possibilities that most don't even know exist.

All of this is going to take some time. I figure about a year due to me also juggling research (one review written; hoping for at least one primary paper next year) as well as exploring all these new options. Still it's time. I've been a trainee for too long. Time to remove the training wheels and go out on my own.

Bring on the lip balm.

A journey of love: review of Julia Leigh's Avalanche: A Love Story

This post is part of Pamela's blog book tour for Avalanche: A Love Story. For more reviews and/or to participate, please go here. 

*Author's note: I've struggled with this memoir for two weeks, particularly after Rachel Cusk's poor NYT book review. My goal was to write a honest review that couples my interpretation of the emotions from going through treatment, which Julia Leigh's story brought to the surface. So in addition to my words, I'm including music in this review. A soundtrack that I've been playing over and over as I've been reflecting on this story. This interpretation is my own with no direct ties to either Ms. Leigh or the musician featured here.*

Like many medical treatments, no one decides to pursue IVF without careful consideration. The expense is something that will stop most people from even considering this an option, but add in the emotional roller coaster, fueled by altering hormones, countless injections, a drain of finances and so much uncertainty make it appear as a very unattractive gamble. Yet for those living with infertility, the opportunity to have a child drives many to pursue this path to expand their family. The promise of resolving infertility (though not curing it) through pregnancy leads so many to take this gamble, risking financial ruin, stigma and especially heartbreak along the way. After all, it is biologically engrained in humans to reproduce. To not do so would be detrimental to the species.

Despite us living in an era of great medical advances, the myths and misunderstandings surrounding IVF remain. Many who have not experienced treatments or faced them as an option are flippant in their understanding of what this medical procedure entails. Though there are many stories of someone's friend's second cousin achieving pregnancy through fertility treatments, particularly IVF, these same people are unable to fill in all the details, like of the repeated losses/failed treatments, of the financial strain, the altered emotional state and physical toll caused by the fertility drug and especially the emotional trauma caused by the process. Worse yet are those who chose not to pursue treatments or end treatments after many failed rounds and find themselves not parenting. In an act of self-preservation, setting healthy boundaries and choosing to live a full life, they are often shunned, considered selfish and informed they are not parenting because "they didn't want it enough."

Equally foreign is the truth about IVF success. The reality that more often than not that these treatments fail. The statistics are often suppressed given that this is an industry that relies on selling hope. The hope of coming out the other side with the child you dreamed of expanding your family with. It is my firm belief that many who go into this business do so with the desire to help the patients involved; they want to bring that child into being. But when selling hope, there's money involved. And the truth is the good intentions often get skewed when there is money involved. And so the truth about fertility treatment success rates is often not evident so the way the statistics are performed is often not uniform and usually unclear.

Julia Leigh's memoir tackles all of these issues, with the author doing so by sharing her story. A story that starts out the way so many of us do. She falls in love, decides to expand her family and takes actions to do so. A similar start to the story of family building that many people around the world share. Unapologetically Ms. Leigh tells of her relationship with Paul, starting with their first meeting and love affair to their relationship over the years and then when they fall in love again. At this point, she is older, but she is also determined to nurture the new family she has while planning with Paul for bringing their child into the world. There are hints that time may be a factor, but there are other worries and obligations that Ms. Leigh is pursuing. Plus there is the added tales of those who successfully conceive well into their 40s. A hope of overcoming biological limitations.

It is when months of trying to conceive roll by that things begin to fall apart. Ms. Leigh details the arguments she and Paul face. A road that ultimately leads to them separating and divorcing. Promises made are not kept. And suddenly Ms. Leigh finds single and pursuing fertility treatments on her own. Combating the naysayers while pursuing the child already born in her heart.

It is with this decision that Ms. Leigh lays out in beautiful detail the conflict the average person living with infertility goes through with loved ones and family. Despite good intentions, pain is caused through lack of support and injections of judgement. All of it feeling of very intimate betrayal. Ms. Leigh guides her readers through each moment, bringing those who are open to the experience an up-close and personal view of how much these moments impacted her. Most similarly was finding the much needed support in unlikely sources. These shelters from the storm that was raging.

Ms. Leigh then goes on to share all the details on her journey through fertility treatments. From the beginning, there's a feeling of hope. The reproductive endocrinologists (REs) who she works closely with are driven to help her bring home her childling. In many moments, I found myself having flashes from my own treatment experience, with me also having a deep affection for the nurses who oversaw my care. There is also her injection regiment, where she details how she prepares and the worry of doing anything wrong, something many in the infertility community can relate with. But as Ms. Leigh goes on there's an underlying sense of ick that surfaces, from the offers of add-ons where the data of their benefit is unclear to the medical advice where they claim the decision is her own when clearly they are influencing her to the contract Ms. Leigh signs where it is disclosed that the doctors are financially benefitting from the treatments that administer. As Ms. Leigh shares the details in a way that illustrates the mindset of a fertility treatment patient, it's hard not to experience the confusion, uncertainty and lack of control caused by these mind wars.

In the end, Ms. Leigh decides to end the madness and reclaim her live. A decision that leads to grief for the loss of her childling. But also there is a reclaiming of control over the process. A claiming of limitations and setting of boundaries. Interestingly enough, while initially criticized for going this route alone, there is now pushing for her not to stop, revealing the trauma of not being allowed to properly grieve what was loss.

Ms. Leigh's book ends on a hopeful note; of choosing to love after things have fallen apart. Most impressively, she shares vignettes about her with her nieces and nephews. She shows her ability to love on the deepest of levels, especially during moments of pain. She counters all claims that those not parenting are unable to love on the deepest of levels. That this connection is not restricted solely to those who give birth.

Avalanche, in the end, is a love story in its truest form. A story of love that so many have experienced. Its the story of someone who sacrificed so much to bring her son/daughter into the world. One that anyone who is parenting or has ever desired to parent can relate with. The difference is that Ms. Leigh finds herself grieving the dead of this child. While others will go on to encounter milestone after milestone, she is burying her baby. That's not selfish and uncaring, but a love most dear. Evidence to refute all the myths and misconceptions surrounding those who are not parenting. That instead of being shallow and weak, these individuals are filled with strength, love and compassion. That they know how to love on levels and in ways that many fail to understand.

And maybe that's the lesson we're all meant to understand: that love comes in many forms. No better and no worse.

#MicroblogMondays: why we need to talk about infertility

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Sitting on the bus back to campus, I finished the last page of Julia Leigh's Avalanche: A Love Story and felt like I had been stunned. The emotions welling up in me, combined with my own memories of fertility treatments, reveal a tangled web that still requires more picking. 

In an attempt to make sense of the emotions, I do a web-search looking to see what others have to say about Julia's book. One of the first hits reveals a review from the New York Times by Rachel Cusk. As I read, the numbness is replacing by hot anger. 

This week, Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos is hosting a blog book tour for Avalanche. Already some have asked why this is necessary. For those who wonder, I invite you to read Ms. Cusk's review as she illustrates beautifully how much we need to be talking openly about infertility. Ms. Cusk opens her review by drawing a comparison between those who want to be successful writers and those who undergo fertility treatments, stating early on that the chance of success is extremely low and both parties are knowingly setting themselves up for heartache. That somehow we are asking for pain upon pain in the pursuit to grow our families. The utter lack of empathy is clear from the first paragraph.

The sad part is most people share Ms. Cusk's opinion. Most see infertility as something we brought on ourselves. Be if we waited too long or that we aren't deserving or that parenting isn't part of a higher-power's plan for us or maybe that we did something to cause all of this. We absolutely deserve this in their eyes. 

Infertility isn't the first disease to face such stigma. 100 yrs ago, the American Cancer Society was founded during a period when a similar mindset was inflicted those diagnosed with cancer. It was through public education and stories, both of survivors and family, that changed how we view cancer today. But this only came because stories were shared, like Julia's memoir, Belle Bogg's recent book The Art of Waiting as well as many other books (Pamela's Silent Sororty, etc), this community of bloggers/tweeters/etc and even those who've chosen to share their journey, no matter the stage. The truth is, we need to talk about infertility and what it does to a person, a couple, a family and even a community. 

#MicroblogMondays: Walden

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cur a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner and reduce it to its lowest terms."

~ Henry David Thoreau. Walden

#MicroblogMondays: finding the good

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

It's amazingly easy to focus on the bad. From a young age we're taught to find anything that's wrong as focusing on the good is seen as bragging or acting self-important. Be it the weather, the looming deadlines, disappointments or changes big or small, the negative is always weighed over the positive.

Years ago, while in an infertility support group, the leader assigned an exercise to counter the negative. Given every member was in limbo and preparing for treatment, it was simply too easy. So we were challenged to find 5 good things each day and to share them with our partners. Those 5 things had to be shared prior to diving in to all the other stuff.

It surprised me how hard doing this exercise was. The urge to dump and vent following a rough day. And yet, by doing so, I found that my attitude shifted. Sure things were still painful and there were many moments where the hurt consumed. But finding those good things were reminders of why life was still worth living.

This past week was a hard one. Between the emotional landmine followed by an insane vet bill (both Jaxson and Daisy are healthy, which was the burn) followed by a trip to urgent care as the whole family has been sick, it was easy to find things to complain about.

But despite all of that, there was also the good moments. Like how the mornings have become cooler, leading to pleasant wake-ups. And the peaceful naps. Of the trip back from urgent care where we took the long way home and got a chance to explore the city. Of a morning spent with the Beats playing with their building blocks. The peaceful moments I got alone with a book.

And the promise of a Monday that this is a new week with new potential opportunity. A reminder that even when it seems hard, finding the good can fuel you to overcome.

The sorting game

Sunday night, Grey and I had a long conversation with my uncle and aunt. Passing the phone back and forth to one another, even though it was on speaker, we talked with both of them about the condo (we fired our management company!!!!; more on that soon), Cyrol drama, updating them about the Beats (both kids were so excited to talk with them) and about how we were doing in general. The conversation was an easy one and when it was time to say good-night, both Grey and I were feeling good.

Given all the drama from this past weekend, I've been reflecting on why my interactions with my uncle and aunt are so seamless in comparison. What is it about this relationship that leaves both Grey and me feeling safe to interact independently? Grey and I talked about it yesterday, reflecting on it all. Trying to work out what we can do to get there with the rest of family.

My relationship with all of Grey's family has been strained for several years now. Part of this was due to wariness from the start. Prior to us dating, Grey had been in a relationship with a woman where she actively tried to separate him from his family. Being young and in love, combined with some additional factors of inclusion into a new group of people who were incredibly supportive of his choices to follow in their footsteps, he found himself slowly drawing away from them. Luckily he didn't marry this woman, ultimately cutting all ties with these people (even though they still stalk him to this day), but the unspoken hurt has remained that no one has really addressed. So from the beginning they were suspicious. Would I do the same thing, separating him from them? To counteract that, I made an extra effort to show that I wouldn't. I called my MIL regularly, made a point of pushing for us to spend holidays with the family, ganged up on Grey when his sister chose to marry a guy who seemed way too interested in promoting his values over SILs, would go on to knit baby blankets for the then niece and nephews and even flew out with Grey to support his brother Lucas after his twins were born and they were in crisis.

Then infertility hit. And I struggled. I struggled as my MIL would talk on and on about her grandbabies during our conversations, knowing full well about our diagnosis. I struggled as holidays were being spent with the in-laws gathering on a different coast with the expectation that if we wanted to be included we had to fly out. I struggled greatly with this news. And this incident. So a wall went up as I didn't feel safe expressing how much I hurt. Even when I did with David's encouragement, it felt like it all fell short. Resolution never happened.

The wall didn't go away. During my whole pregnancy, I bucked a lot of the bonding my MIL wanted to do over the pending arrival of the Beats. We only saw them once while I was pregnant, with me finding ways to spend as little time with them. An offer of a baby shower by Grey's sister was immediately dismissed, largely due to my fear that doing so would jinx the pregnancy. The Sip & See proposed for later lead was ultimately a complete disaster. But the kicker came the day I was admitted to Chateau L&D. Grey's mother had also booked plane tickets out to see her other grandchildren. Calling to insist that she would cancel the trip, Grey reassured her that it wasn't necessary as we would likely be going home. But I knew he was in denial. As I watched the doctors and nurses, I knew the Beats would be making an early arrival. When she talked to me, I told her to go; to take that trip out to see her other grandchildren. And with that she not only missed their birth but was also kept away for almost a month as they were in NICU.

Over the past three years, there's been slow attempts to heal. Appreciation for gifts received was always made known and I tried resuming conversations with MIL. I even wrote Lucas a brief email apologizing for my past behavior and thanking him and his wife for all the clothes they were sending us. But during that first year, my uncle and aunt became very involved with helping us with the Beats. Weekly visits happened, with them giving us some much needed relief (usually in the form of sleep for me) and company while also helping with housework and providing meals. It was with my uncle and aunt that the Beats grew into toddlers, hitting those first milestones under their care and support. And though my in-laws were never actively excluded, the distance meant they missed all of that while they were aware that the Beats had gained another set of grandparents.

There's another level, though. One that I've struggled with. Lucas's wife is a woman who is easily described as a sweetheart. Getting pregnant for them always only took a month of trying (they have conceived their twins on their honeymoon) and they made a point of requesting MIL's help since the beginning. As much as I hate myself for this, there has been jealousy. Even after the Beats arrived and despite Grey's countering, I've felt that I've been tolerated while this woman has been embraced as part of the family. I'm outside looking in.

Over the past few days, following all the scars hurting and this new knowledge about MIL's confession, I've been reflecting on what I want moving forward. Knowing now that we're at a point where conversations have to start happening and things need to be hashed out. Because I'm tired of feeling like I fall short all the time. That somehow I'm less and am trying to keep Grey from them. Granted I have my role to play in all of this. But just as they have had their reasons, I've had mine. I had to protect my heart and my sanity.

The irony of all of this is I've witnessed what happens when complex issues like this go unresolved. My mother has an older sister who is estranged from the family. Years upon years of feuding and old hurts where they can't be in the same room as one another. The last time was at my grandfather's funeral. Watching all of them interact, never addressing the hurts directly but instead playing their respective roles, I truly wondered if I was witnessing a soap opera being filmed. More to the point, as angry as my aunt with every person in that room (24 total), it was me that she did well with. Me because I confronted her, made it clear that I would respect her as long as she respected me and actually took an interest in some of the things her husband was working on. Those witnessed interactions between this estranged aunt and I have become family legend with them all clueless as to why she did so well with me. The idea that this aunt was lashing out because she was hurting and that maybe, just maybe, peace could come through empathy, has been so profoundly foreign to all of them.

All this said, I still have no idea how to proceed forward. Mainly because this is still Grey's family and I don't want to push him into doing something he doesn't agree with. But also because with how complex all of this is, I'm still trying to figure it all out. A sorting game if you will. Emotions are high at the moment. Any misstep is likely to set off so many bombs. And I'm terribly afraid. But, like with my parents, it's time. So we play the game.

Any suggested moves would be greatly appreciated.