Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Guest Post: Top Ten Causes of infertility

andrew-head-22-2By The One Hand Man 

Let me preface this post by stating that thousands of men are affected by infertility, in a variety of ways. I am a true believer in laughter being the best medicine, and whilst I do not dismiss my fertility issues as being unimportant, I have come to terms with it, and accepted it for what it is. It has never been healthy to take things too seriously.

I suspect many men will share this view, so don’t pity us or feel sorry for us, support us by laughing along, and sharing this with others – It’s okay, you have my permission.

This top ten list was put together in its entirety with little or no research, it is a by-product of my imagination, with a dash of experience thrown in to explain the big words; I am not arrogant enough to tell you the biggest causes of male infertility, so don’t tell me I am wrong – do your own list.

10 – Exposure to radiation. This one is a double-edged sword. Fellas who have been exposed to radiation treatment have been so, probably to combat cancer. This of course, is not the case for Radiation Man from Superman 4. He may well be able to fly and shoot fire from his eyes. But that is the only shooting he will be doing. That might be why he is so angry, his ill-fated sperm are so illuminated by radiation poisoning, it looks like superman has put some glow sticks down his pants.

9 – Stress. The irony is not lost on me here. The stress of not being able to get your wife pregnant is the very cause of it. It’s okay though, some cretin will tell you to ‘just try and relax’ Thanks Captain Obvious, very helpful.

8 – Alcohol. Now I just don’t believe this. All those teenage pregnancies across the western world didn’t happen because their PlayStation broke. The horny little oiks got liquored up and pounced on the nearest willing participant. Cynical and bitter I may be, but tell me I am wrong.

7 – Cigarettes. Sperm motility and morphology are affected by smoking apparently, this means they are slow and ugly. Your little sperm may think they are looking cool, but just remember, half way up the urethra; they have to stop for a breather.

6 – Fat. If you are a bit tubby, tread carefully – obesity can have an effect on your hormones, so if you find yourself crying at Love Actually, like I do, get yourself down the clinic….. oh…..

Half way through the list now and you can see that a healthy lifestyle is key here, so if you are a fat alcoholic, who smokes 40 a day, you may as well just cut your sack off.

5 – Very frequent intercourse. Your guess is as good as mine as to what this means, but if you can find the time to do it 18 times a day, I say, go for it.

4 – Laptops. Proof that technology is moving forward at a pace that our own testicles cannot cope with. Experts will tell you it is the heat from the laptop radiating your bits, but I think it is that your junk simply cannot put up with you using the laptop to scour the internet for grot – here we go again boys.

3 – Too much exercise. Again, certain hormones get over stimulated with excessive intense exercise. When the doctor asked me if I exercised too much, he was met with barrel laughter from both my wife and myself.

2 – Trauma. I cannot remember a specific time my brother kicked me in the nuts, so the finger of blame cannot be pointed at him. I have played plenty of sports during my childhood though – just think: one unfortunate ball in the groin may have your mates bent double in laughter, but you could well pay for it later.

1 – Bad Luck. Yes this is a cop out; topping my list is that of lady luck, but I believe it to be true. Whether you believe in fate or not, I am convinced that pure fortune has played its part in my fertility. I may sound bitter and twisted at times, but I can assure you I am not. I have many things to be grateful for, and if infertility is the challenge I have to face throughout my life, I know the hand I have been dealt, is without doubt, a winning one.

I would implore any men having fertility problems to do whatever you can to improve your fertility; if you smoke – stop, if you are fat, try losing a bit of timber, cut down on the booze and definitely don’t get kicked in the balls, but don’t, under any circumstances, let infertility consume you, I am pretty sure that is not what we are here for.

The One Hand Man: Married in 07, sperm test in 08, IVF in 09, another sperm test in 10, adoption started in 11 – still going through the adoption process. Not had any recent sperm tests. Read more at: www.theonehandman.co.uk

Whiny Wednesday: Keeping my Mouth Shut

Whiny_WednesdayMy whine today is that I wish I’d chosen to blog under a pseudonym so that I could really whine about the people in my life who are just pissing me off today. As it is, I can’t be certain that they aren’t reading this blog (and just in case, you know who you are!) and I don’t especially want to start a feud, so I’m going to suck it up and keep my mouth shut.

So, dear readers, I’m counting on you to whine on my behalf today.

It Got Me Thinking…About Why Martha Beck Rocks

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

Martha Beck is a therapist, life coach, best-selling author, and columnist for Oprah’s O magazine. Every month she offers real advice for addressing prickly issues, and frequently it feels like she’s been observing my life for material.

In an article titled “Off the Beating Path” (February 2013), she writes about how to “draw up a whole new road map” when you’ve experienced a bumpy ride. Not just those gentle speed bumps (what we can “speed humps” in San Francisco), but bone-jarring, axle-cracking, questioning-why-you-would-continue “rumble strips.” Although the subjects whose stories she shares differ, I felt like she was writing to us: women who had beautiful plans for our lives, plan that were crushed by disappointment and heart-break, who are trying to figure out how to continue with some element of grace.

I don’t want to paraphrase the article because she is so much more articulate than I am, so I encourage you to pick up a copy at the market or newsstand or read it online here. What she does is give examples from her own and clients’ lives, share steps for navigating rumble strips, and offer perspective on how these experience may actually benefit us in the long run. Her advice isn’t sugar-coated, it isn’t simplistic. The line that most resonates with me reads “I wasn’t trying to minimize Dorothy’s pain or plaster a creepy happy face over her legitimate sorrow. I only wanted her to alter her beliefs enough to catch a glimpse of a different road.” Yes! Even as I continue to struggle with coming to terms with my challenges, I can open my mind to that possibility.

Martha Beck has children, so I can’t call her a chero (a hero who is childfree), but I do think she understands who we are and what we’re going through. It’s because of her compassion, her wisdom, and her willingness to share so that we all can thrive that I think she rocks.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

Road Map to Healing Program

Stone BridgeI’ve been underground since the beginning of the year (figuratively, not literally) putting together a new workshop program. Based on feedback I received from the two wonderful groups of women I had the opportunity to work with in last year’s Mentorship Program, I’m very pleased to be able to offer a new program this year, Road Map to Healing.

During the program, we’ll tackle important topics, such as letting go of the dream of motherhood, creating time and space for grief, and getting valuable support from friends and family. You’ll have the support of other women through a private online group and be able to attend monthly support calls for as long as you need them.

If you’re new to the idea of a life without children or you’re stuck with moving forward to a place of acceptance, please join me on Road Map to Healing. The program opens for registration on Monday, and I’ll be offering a special new program rate until January 31st.

All the details will be available on Monday, but you can get a sneak peek of the program here.

 

When Cheers is Not So Cheery

Maybe BabyBy Maybe Lady Liz

Last night, I was in a bit of a funk, so I settled down for a few episodes of Cheers on Netflix. Good wholesome show that can’t help but put a smile on your face, right? Unfortunately, I happened to land on the episode where Sam decides to quit his bartending duties and become the full-time manager/promoter at Cheers. He hires another bartender, Ken, to help Woody out pouring drinks. After just a couple of weeks, it becomes very clear that the management thing wasn’t really working and Sam belonged back behind the bar. Though he feels bad about it, he knows Ken needs to be fired because there’s not enough work (or payroll money) for three bartenders. He’s all set to do it when Ken’s wife arrives with – of course! – their two small children.

Though Woody had become a beloved fixture at Cheers over the past several months (or years?), a good friend, and an excellent bartender, Sam took one look at those kids and immediately decided that the “right thing to do” was let Woody go because he didn’t have a family to support. The episode wrapped up neatly, as they always do, with Ken being offered a better job elsewhere and Woody coming back with a nice raise, but the message left me with a sour taste in my mouth. It seemed to suggest that those of us without children are somewhat expendable. That we’re better equipped to handle life’s hard knocks because it’s just “us”. And that when the going gets tough, those with a family are going to be given preferential treatment.

I’m not saying that I don’t understand Sam’s actions. When I was in HR and we had to do cutbacks, the person I remember most vividly was the one who’d just bought a house for his family and now had no idea how he was going to make his payments. Should he have been given special consideration over his peers who were still renting, or didn’t have children? Of course not. Did it make it any easier to watch, or sleep that night? No.

So I get it, I really do. But it was just another reminder of where those of us without children fall in the rankings when important decisions need to be made. And that, my friends, is a very scary notion in these difficult economic times.

Maybe Lady Liz is blogging her way through the decision of whether to create her own Cheerio-encrusted ankle-biters, or remain Childfree. You can follow her through the ups and downs at http://www.MaybeBabyMaybeNot.com.

Whiny Wednesday: Unsubscribe Means Unsubscribe

Whiny_WednesdayI’ve been on a mission lately to cleanse my email inbox. It got to the point that I was getting so much junk email in my various accounts that I couldn’t even find the important emails. So, one morning I set off on and Unsubscribe mission and I’ve been going at it ever since.

For the most part, it’s going well, but I am finding some very persistent marketers who don’t seem to be able to comprehend why anyone would want to leave their precious mailing lists, so they send an email just to make sure I really want to leave. And I swear that, since I’ve unsubscribed, some companies have now flagged me as a live human being and have added me to a special list of people to be hounded ten-fold.

But slowly I’m getting a grip on my inbox. I can even see my actual email now!

It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s irking you today?

It Got Me Thinking About…What I’m Worth

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

A friend took me out to dinner recently (a nice treat!) and I ordered a cobb salad with grilled chicken breast. Simple enough, but as I sliced up the chicken and took a bite, it was clear that the meat was not quite thoroughly cooked. Here’s where it gets screwy: I ate half of it anyway.

On a normal night I would have waved down our server and politely requested that the meat go back on the grill for a few more minutes till it was cooked through. But this particular night came at the tail end of a long week of self-loathing. I’d spent days focusing on business failings, financial failings, and personal failings (among them, feeling like the only childless woman among my überly-reproductive peers). I risked getting violently ill because at the time I thought to myself It’s not worth it. Which, if you haven’t already guessed, translates to I am not worth it.

I thought about this a lot in the days that followed, and after I stopped beating myself up, I remembered something someone taught me long ago. If I were a mother lioness and my baby cubs were at risk, I would be fierce about protecting them. If I’d paid good money for an expensive meal for my family, I would insist that it be served to my satisfaction. If my child was served a plate of raw meat, I would immediately return it to the kitchen. So…isn’t it time I start taking care of my inner child?

Much of my life I was groomed to be polite, not make waves, keep the peace. And there’s a place for that. But as I work through this process of grieving and healing, I think there’s also a place for standing up for myself, speaking up, being fierce on my own behalf. I can start with something as little as refusing to accept bad chicken. Because, as the classic L’Oreal campaign has tried to imprint in us, I’m worth it.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

 

Learning to Ask for Help

Help“Ancora imparo. [I am still learning.]”

― Michelangelo, at age 87 in 1562

I am still learning. And thank goodness, too. If all I had to go on for the rest of my life was all I know now, I think I’d be in a lot of trouble down the road. That’s the beauty of age, experience, and wisdom, I suppose. It takes life experience to gain knowledge, and life experience only comes with checking off the years.

Last year, I learned an important lesson that I wish I’d learned much sooner. I learned to ask for help.

Near the end of last year, I was working through where I wanted to take this site, while trying to keep my freelance writing jobs going, and thinking about the novel I’m supposed to be writing. I was trying to write blog posts, maintain the website, fix tech issues, run a workshop, and keep a marriage ticking along. Finally, I threw up my hands and said what equated to, “I can’t do this all by myself, so I’m not going to do any of it.” I really was ready to throw in the towel.

Fortunately I have a wise group of peers and an amazing mentor who talked me through my angst and convinced me to ask for help. I found an assistant to help with the blog and found a web designer to take care of the site properly. Their help freed me up to do the work I really wanted to do, which is writing posts and developing this community. What’s more, the other work got done quicker and better than if I’d struggled along as usual trying to figure it all out for myself.

The experience gave me pause and caused me to look back at my past and take a close look at myself. Turns out I have never been a person who asks for help. It’s not so much pride that stops me from asking, but more a sense of toughness. “I can do this on my own. I don’t need help.” Now I’m writing it here, it sounds an awful lot like stubbornness, but there you go.

I was also tough (or stubborn) when I was going through the grinder of infertility and later, when I was trying to figure out how to ever make peace with my situation. I never asked for help, even though I needed it. In part I believed it was pointless to ask for help because no one else could really understand what I was going through. I also didn’t want to upset people I knew and cared about, and I didn’t want to put myself in the position of comforting them.

In hindsight, I wish I’d asked for help. I wish I’d taking the chance of confiding in a friend. I wish I’d thought to look for a support group or hired the professional help of a therapist. I would have arrived at my place on peace a lot sooner than I did. But hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and I hadn’t yet learned the value of asking for help.

How about you? Have you asked for help? If so, where have you found it?

Fertility Planit Show Report

Fertility PlanitLast weekend, I was at the Fertility Planit Show, speaking on a panel about Letting Go. I wrote about my trepidation in a post last month and so many of you were incredibly supportive that I thought I ought to report in on my experience.

As anticipated, it was very strange for me to be at the show. I walked around the exhibition hall glancing sideways at the booths for everything from adoption agencies to cryogenic storage facilities to banks offering IVF loans. I spotted a few organizations whose paths I’d crossed on my own journey, including one of my former doctors, who apparently had no recognition of me (probably because he’d spent little time looking at my face, if you know what I mean.) I’ll admit that my pulse quickened and my chest tightened as I walked around. I didn’t feel any pull to get back into the fertility game or any tempting new possibilities, but I could feel some of those old, anxious, emotions creeping back in.

The panel itself was great. About 50-100 people sat in the room and I’m told another 22,000 watched online! Attendees asked lots of questions and I was glad I had answers to many of them.

The hardest part for me was looking out at people in the audience who I knew were coming to the end of their infertility ropes. I could feel they were in so much pain and it was incredibly courageous of them to come and listen to this panel on a topic I know they didn’t really want to face. Part of me wanted to climb down off the stage and just hug them and the other part wanted to kick the world in the kneecaps and scream that these perfectly nice people didn’t deserve this. But I didn’t do either of those things. I sat on the stage, told my story, and answered as many questions as I could.

The upshot of the whole experience is that I’m very glad I accepted the invitation to speak. It was ultimately very rewarding to speak from a place of peace and healing.

As an added bonus, I got to meet two incredible women, Melanie Notkin and Tracy Cleantis, who I’ve known for some time through the blogosphere. I also made connections with some wonderfully compassionate therapists, who specialize in this area. More about this aspect coming soon.

The show is coming back to LA next year and you can bet I’m adding plenty of suggestions to my speaker survey of more ways to bring this crucial topic out into the open.

If you’d like to see the panel discussion, it’s available to download on the Fertility Planit site or you can view below.

Video streaming by Ustream

Thank you all again for being so supportive and encouraging on this new step in my journey.

Fruit of the Tree

OrangenBy Amelia Ricardo

Several years ago, I began researching my family history. I began the process for the same reason many of us do: Curiosity. I was curious about genealogy because I wanted to prepare a proper history to pass down to my own children. The more I began researching and the bigger my family tree grew, the more excited I became about what I was learning, and how proud I would be to one day pass down my findings to my children.

Except I’m not going to have any child to receive this information.

A few months ago my husband and I came to the realization that parenthood isn’t going to happen for us. Financial woes and health issues have choked out a chance to continue the family tree, to bear new fruit.

Over the years, as I did my genealogical research, I always tried to expand the tree’s limbs and branches as far back as possible. No matter how distant the relative, I always believed that every branch mattered, and therefore every fruit from them also mattered. How disappointed I was when no children were had by an ancestor, and that his or her branch did not continue.

I’m going to be one of those dead-end branches. In decades to come, will the branch of my husband and me be overlooked? Will we be non-important because we didn’t produce any fruit?

Yes, I grieve for not being able to buy baby clothes, for not being able to comfort a crying child, and the other gazillion reasons.  But what I seem to mourn the most is not being able to be a growing part of my family tree. I grieve for being a branch that doesn’t extend. I grieve that the stories I’ve collected and the heritage of which I’m fiercely proud will not be shared with my own children. I’m still struggling with this realization.

A few weeks ago as I pondered this realization, I thought of my great-aunt Annie who died single and childless. Almost 50 years after her death, she’s still remembered fondly by all in my family, remembered for her courage, altruism, and strength. And among all of her 13 siblings, she is probably the most memorable. Was it being single and childless that helped mold her into this individual and leave such an indelible legacy on our family?  I don’t know.

Some of history’s most influential women never had children. Florence Nightingale, Susan B. Anthony, Emily Dickinson, Jane Austen, and Julia Child are just a few. Their branches of the family tree did not bear fruit. Yet they still managed to influence countless others—including those who are of no relation. They are important limbs in a larger tree, and their fruits are in forms other than offspring. Their fruits are their writings, their culinary artistry, their caring for the sick, and their advocacy of women’s rights.

Does this realization erase all the sadness I have? No. But perhaps it’s worth reminding myself that not all-important branches must bear fruit.

Amelia Ricardo lives with her husband in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. As she tries to accept a life without baby, she keeps herself busy with freelance writing, blogging, and many other projects. She blogs about her unabashed Olympic obsession at OlympicFanatic.com.  

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