I’m having afternoon tea with my dear friend W at Bergdorf’s today……

It’s one of my favorite things to do although I don’t do it as frequently as I should….

I’m hoping that “tea” is code for “champagne” and I can almost smell the fresh baked scones as I sit here in my office.

I’m getting ready to leave and hope I’ve left myself enough time to get there because I’m taking the bus…..it’s one of the best values in NYC ($2).

I usually take a book and catch up on my reading (something else I don’t do as frequently as I should)….but maybe today I should work on an inspiring post for An Infertile Blonde……I know I owe you one.

At any rate, I must run……
Because this Infertile Blonde must go catch The Bus to Bergdorf’s….

Love much,
xob

Mine is ticking so loud I can barely sleep.

Love much,
xob

This weekend Jake told me he was ready to be a big brother.

Love much,
xob

It was touch and go for a few days…..

I’ve been distracted by work and just hadn’t made the appointment.

But all is well…..

And I got my highlights done yesterday.

I still am An Infertile Blonde…..

Off to L’s for cupcakes!

Love much,
xob

Thank you for everything.

Love much,
xob

My friend L lived in the house across from us in our old suburban neighborhood.

It still breaks my heart to think that it was just by chance that we ever met. What if she hadn’t moved in?

L and I became friends years before Jake arrived.

One of the most important things that you need to know about L is that she always had a fully stocked snack closet—-yes closet—and it included a vast assortment of candy!

Not a cabinet.

Not a drawer.

But a closet.

We lived in a “Beaver Cleaver” neighborhood so I would usually find L’s back door open and would just walk in and make myself at home. I’d grab a perfectly chilled Diet Coke from the fridge and then see what treats awaited me in the snack closet.

And then of course I would call out to L to let her know I was there.

We’d hang out, talk, drink Diet Coke and eat Diet M&Ms (L’s secret code for peanut) —

We used to have lunch together most weekdays and would email each other at 9:45 am wondering if it was too early to dive in.

There were frequent nights when I would look out the window to see if L’s lights were still on, call on the phone to check in and then run across the street in my pajamas to the snack closet for a fix.

God I miss those days.

When I moved to NYC L. gave me a monogrammed “snack bag” filled with treats.

Because she said my new neighbors might not have a snack closet.

It made me cry.

L has been known to suck the cream filling out of a Hostess cupcake with a straw……

This might be an urban legend that we just joke about……

I can’t even remember if she actually did it—but the fact is I wouldn’t put it past her!

L laughs at me for my new found health routine—no salt, no sugar and EXERCISE.

L calls me from the candy aisle in the grocery store just to check in.

L dreams of the day that Dunkin Donuts delivers to her house.

And the funniest thing is that L has the most amazing metabolism——you’d never guess she’s the original junk food junkie—she’s a perfect size 4!

So as I pack my bags for a visit to L’s house this weekend I know that I have to swing by CRUMBS for a dozen cupcakes.

Am pretty sure I would not be allowed in without them.

And I find myself dreaming of her snack closet (that has tripled in size since she moved) and the fact that I will be having cupcakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Love much,
xob

A great comment was recently made to my post of 1.23.09 “There are no rule books for this.”

And she’s absolutely right.

Short story: What happens to the “fertile” woman who gets pregnant and her “infertile” best friend disappears? Here is a link to the comment: FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN(scroll down to the last comment):
https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209109634143071364&postID=2869609585857974079

While the pregnant woman acknowledges the uncomfortableness of the situation, she is still deeply hurt that her best friend just left—-with no conversation. Nothing. And I have say I feel for her (the fertile woman) but I am not sure how to respond.

I have sat on my response for days.

There are so many things I want to say…..but where to start.

So I will do what I do best……I’m going to “wing it” .

I am not naïve. I understand that friendships don’t always last forever. But I don’t believe that they should end over the fertile/infertile issue. I believe the woman who wrote the post has every right to be severely hurt. I also agree that it would have been a very uncomfortable conversation but best friends should be able to work through that.

My friends know that I say this every day: Having children is hard—no matter how they come into this world. And we as women both infertile and fertile need to stick together and support each other for the courage and conviction it takes to make our way down our chosen road. Because in the end we are all mothers…..or godmothers…..or the best aunts ever!!!!

It’s not easy always do or say the right thing or take the high road. We’re not just talking about “biting your tongue” or telling someone you “like their haircut” we’re talking pregnancies, and infertile vs. fertile—–and for the infertile friend we’re talking about scraping the bottom of the emotional barrel. And that just plain sucks! But did the infertile friend think that you would put off getting pregnant until she had resolved her own infertility issues? Or, did she wish you to be infertile too? I cannot imagine either option to be true.

I think there are so many topics for which there never seem to be the right words: Death, Divorce, terminal illness, unemployment, bankruptcy, drugs and infertility. But why somehow does everyone manage with this list one way or another except for infertility????? This I don’t have an answer for but I sure wish I did. But I am going to do my part to change that.

I wonder why your infertile friend didn’t send you a card telling you she needed some time to find her way……I imagine it would have eased your pain? You would have understood and perhaps it would have eased you both into the uncomfortable conversation and cryfest? I speak with experience on this one.

If a card is not your style you could try the following:

Take the highest road possible, suck it up and be truly happy and supportive for your pregnant friend (because you really are) and let her enjoy being pregnancy—-she deserves to.
If the highest road is not possible (and it might not be—because it IS REALLY HARD) then do something to COMMUNICATE—-but do not disappear.

Leave a voicemail that you are so happy for her but in deep pain over your own issues. Let her know that your reaction is about you and not intended to detract from her happiness.
Send an email with a similar message

Send a smoke signal—ANYTHING—-JUST COMMUNICATE with your friend. Somehow you MUST let them know that you need space. That you love them and can’t wait to be an aunt—-but you are hurting.

My guess is that if addressed, this situation can bring friends even closer.

I also speak from the experience of having my heart stabbed with a fork (not literally).

I have had the mis-fortune to walk in both sets of shoes. I was pregnant (via IVF — three times/three miscarriages) and I had a very close friend who went through many unsuccessful infertility treatments and was resigned to not having children.

When I first told her I was pregnant (2003) she said that she was “happy” for me but it was forced (that part was clear). And then she told me that if I ever wanted to come visit WITHOUT my child that I would be more than welcome in her house.

It was at that moment our friendship ended.

When she heard I miscarried she came back into my life like nothing had happened and I couldn’t believe it—-I think she was actually happy that I was “back in her boat”.

When my friend did get pregnant in the summer of 2005 she emailed me the news. I never had the courage to address the situation because I really to this day cannot believe the conversation really happened and I can not believe that after all we’d been through she didn’t have the courage to pick up the phone.

But the conversation did happen. And she did send me the “announcement” email.

And I did not communicate.

And we are no longer friends.

One of the “big picture” objectives of Helpusadopt.org is to get the world comfortable with and talking about infertility and everything that is connected to it—like adoption—in the hopes that history doesn’t repeat itself down the road and that maybe, just maybe a few friendships will be saved.

Love much,
xob

January 2005

It was time to become parents.

We were terrified.

We felt all alone.

Even those who loved us most couldn’t help us or make this any easier.

There were so many uncertainties and no guarantees.

We could only feel secure in knowing that the lawyer we chose was quite capable, an adoptive parent himself who had been doing this for over 20 years.

Our adoption was going to cost approximately (including travel etc..) $40,000 (after tax dollars).

Costs:
Our lawyer, home study, social worker visits, birthmother’s lawyer, birthmother’s monthly expenses, birthmother’s medical expenses, birthmother’s counseling, airline tickets (at a moments notice), hotel, car rental.

We spent the next 75 days doing paperwork: financial paperwork, criminal background check, child abuse clearance, a full day seminar with a home study group, a social worker visited our house several times, we both had physicals, and we assembled our profile “book” to be sent out to birth mothers.

April 1 our book started going out.
One week no calls.
Two weeks go by no calls, three, four, five, six…
Every time the phone rings we jump.
At nine weeks a birth mother chose us. We had a conference call. We liked her. We decided to move forward with the match. She went to the doctor, heard the heart beat again and changed her mind.

Two weeks later another birthmother chose us. We had a conference call. We decided to move forward. Then we were given some additional information about the situation and decided not to pursue this situation.

We kept waiting. On September 14th we got the call. You’ve been chosen and her due date is November 7th—Kipp’s birthday. The sign we’d been wanting. She was having a boy and was due in 6 weeks.

We had the conference call.
We arranged to go meet the birthmother two weeks later.
We met her.
We liked her. She liked us.
We created a nursery.
We found nurses for when we came home—neither of us took a maternity/paternity leave since we knew we would have to be away for 2-3 weeks.
We stayed in touch with the birthmother.
We packed our bags.
We got the call the morning of October 29th.
We were able to get on a flight that left Philadelphia in 2 ½ hours.
A friend gave us a ride to the airport.
We arrived and rented a car.
We drove an hour to the hospital.
I was in the delivery room.
Our son was born.
We called the baby store and had them ship up the car seat and porta crib—the thought of traveling with these items and no baby yet was more than we could bear.
We stayed in the hospital for two nights.
The birth mother had 48 hours after his birth to change her mind.
We were all discharged and went to our hotel with Jake.
We lived in this hotel for three weeks while the legal work for both Maine and Pennsylvania was completed.
We couldn’t leave state lines for three weeks.
We rented our car for three weeks.
We had a dog sitter at home for three weeks.
We did laundry in communal coin-operated machines for three weeks.
Kipp’s company gave him three weeks leave with pay.
My clients were very kind while I was away.
We got a call one November afternoon telling us that we could come home.
We called the airline and were on a flight 1 ½ hours later.
We flew back to Philadelphia and we were home.

It took 46 months to have our first child.

Love much.
xob

It arrived the first week of December.

A hand-me-down from a friend.

It was so nice of her to think of me.

And we both knew the timing was terrible but she was moving.

I had the option to say no but didn’t.

And most of the time it doesn’t bother me.

But when people come over I see the “hopefulness” in their eyes and I have to explain.

I have to explain that just because there is a bassinet in the dining room there is no baby news.

And then I make them laugh because the bassinet has become a wonderful filing cabinet and is overflowing with files and mailing supplies for Helpusadopt.org.

We share an awkward laugh knowing the reality of the situation…….

And I say a silent prayer that someday……hopefully soon…..it will hold a sleeping baby.

Love much,
xob