Off-Topic - Women and Rape

Yesterday, the woman in the Dehli rape case that has made world headlines, passed away from organ failure. Her death a direct result of the rape and beatings she received. World news organizations, twitter, and even facebook (normally lacking in world news excepting a small percentage) all have references. All of the information made me pause. And think. On so many levels.

Some of what I write here may be controversial - be forewarned.

One of the [several] reasons we chose to go back to Gujarat in September for our second cycle versus Delhi was a safety issue. Please note I have never seen a safety issue posted on any of the blogs who have undergone IVF in Delhi  Our concern was more from my husband's personal experience as an Indian. You see, even according to the lauded Times of India, Delhi is considered the rape capital of India. I've heard this reference made by many media outlets and people, on both sides of the ocean.

We even have family in Delhi  but my husband just did not have a good feeling about me staying there by myself. Even though I assured him that many, many western women have gone and I've never seen a problem. Plus from the blogs it seems like no one is really ever alone there and everyone looks out for one another. Perhaps he knew too well my proclivity to throw caution to the wind. When we considered it for a brief period - he made me promise that I would NEVER go out after dark. EVER.

In contrast, I never once had a safety concern in Anand. Ah well, at least not with regards to walking around. There were the occasional medical things that I raised an eyebrow on and spoke out about. Something I probably would not have encountered in the more modern town of Delhi. (My husband was surprised with a few things as well - city boy.) Should there been a serious emergency medical problem, the hospital facilities in Delhi would have been far superior. But walking to my favorite restaurant at 9pm? No problem.

But, this really isn't a ding about Dehli at all. And if you are considering it, it is not meant to scare you away from your decision. If I've given you a genuine fear then I suggest you talk to people that have done IVF in Delhi, because remember - I have not. This is my blog and thus I post my thoughts, feelings, and considerations - I am posting this because it is honestly one of the things we thought about when choosing. There were other things too, but the recent news reminded me and made it relevant to post. Plus, let's be real. There are places all over the US (including here in Atlanta) where my husband not want me walking around alone after dark.

But this post isn't really to compare Delhi with Anand or the US, although that's how it initially began in my mind. It's really to point out why comparisons about rape places really suck. Even when you mean well. Earlier I had a friend post the following on facebook:
I am feeling especially blessed tonight as I read reports of the woman who was raped in India and has subsequently died. Sometimes it is easy to forget how truly blessed we are to be born in the United States, and the privileges we are provided simply by being a citizen of this country.

Read that again and take it all in.
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ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!

My husband pointed out that sometimes people write things because they don't know what else to say. Or it makes them feel better. I feel way more visceral towards that post. Not in an "India versus US" type of way - but more a "are you so stupid you don't know that horrible rape happens to women in the US every day???" way?

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that the poster didn't mean anything bad by it, so I closed my computer up for the day and sat saddened thinking about it for a long time afterwards. Today I made a public post:

Yesterday I saw some posts on facebook and twitter, commenting on the rape/death in Delhi and how great it is to be an American. 
Let us be clear:

Rape happens in the US all the time. 
With women.
With children.
With horrible beatings that bring death.
Human trafficking still exists here in the US, with Atlanta as the USA's #1 hub.
The number of rapes are reported in the US are staggering.
The number that are not reported are even more staggering.
The number of convictions are pathetic.

If we don't realize that these horrible, horrible things occur HERE, EVERYDAY, almost every minute of EVERYDAY, then THAT is part of the problem.
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Yes, the irony of how I have flipped this post is not lost on me. I judged and then I was mad at someone else's judgement. Maybe things are not always so black and white. 

On Feeling Alone

I know that there are TONS of folks that face infertility, but damn it, sometimes this path feels so lonely.

• The hormones.
• The feeling less of a woman.
• The weight gain and the realization none of your clothes fit. 
• The money. (You can't even think of buying new clothes).
• The daily meds or supplements.
• The feeling of failure.
• The limitations of what you can eat/drink/do to make sure you have "the best chances".
• The no baby. 
• The doctor visits
• The pretending everything is fine.
• The pretending like you really want to hear and be invited to every baby event.
• People asking "so when are you guys going to have kids?"
• The CONSTANT reminder that you are old (or at least your eggs are). 
• The roller coaster that just won't seem to stop no matter how long you've been on the ride. 
• The worry that wanting to use your own eggs raises the chance of health issues in your child. 
• The worry that I'm becoming obsessive or annoying.
• Worrying about my in-laws
• The invasive procedures
• The worrying over every little unknown pain will cause a problem
• The money (yes, this is big enough to write twice).
• etc...

My BFF is a guy and I don't think he can completely relate. Actually, I take that back. His situation is worse.
Me: "This sucks. I can't carry a baby. My eggs are getting old. And we pay a fortune just to be on this stupid roller coaster ride."
BFF: "I think my MS, being single, no chance of kids, and the eventually that my walker requirement will turn into a wheelchair requirement triumphs. My insurance alone is over $900 a month and I can't work."
Me: "touche. Let's go grab lunch. It's on me."

My second BFF just had a baby, so it's not like I want to rain on her parade or have her feel like she's walking on eggshells. She's so totally awesome and her baby is as cute as cute can be.

My husband, though tremendously patient with me, doesn't alway understand how this physically and emotionally this affects me. And as many of you know, it's a doozy  Nor do I, having been a parent before and not from a culture who puts the highest importance on having children, understand all of his internal turmoil. On dealing with the emotional side of IF, we probably both stuff it down in order to appear brave for the other.

If I tried to discuss things with my mother, then she would be incredibly sad worrying about me. That would only add to my stress. No thanks.

In blog land I sometimes worry that I am offending others. In my posts and sometimes my comments; both farthest from what I am actually trying to do. Just trying to convey my thoughts at a particular moment in time. Or trying to avoid feeling sad. Or trying to be helpful. Or funny.

In work and with friends, I'm limited to what I can say. Sometimes because I'm trying to protect myself (lest I am fired for going through IF like I alluded to here) and sometimes I just don't want everyone knowing my business. Nor do I have the desire to be the discussion of gossip as can happen when you have a large group of friends. Nor do I want to be the person that constantly complains and whines as that drives me crazy. Little bits are fine, but when you run into that person who has had problems for soooooo long, it becomes exhausting to talk to them. I certainly don't want to be "that" person.

Yet life goes on. Everyone is busy discussing their kids, sharing fun photos, and doing fun family projects. I'm sure it's a grass-is-greener type thing (after all, we've had some AMAZING travel adventures over the last 4 years), but if I see one more Luvs commercial on Hulu, I'm going to scream.

A Carrier's Perspective (possible tissue alert)

This is a hard one for me to write. Because even with my veil of anonymity, it reveals something so personal and secretive, that few people in my life actually know about it. Many of my closest friends do not know about it and it was even hard to admit to my husband, but I realized recently how very relevant it is to my journey. And how much it will make me cry to write about it. 

Some recent stories I arrived at via Stirrup Queens showed me the importance of sharing my story. I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes, for I don't plan on check editing like I normally do for long posts. Feel free to comment, but if you ever meet me in person let's agree not to bring it  up - ok? Alright, here it goes:

When I was barely 16, I gave up a child for adoption. 

There. I said it. Or at least wrote it. 

Surrogacy is not an easy option for me. Wait, I need to rephrase that because surrogacy and infertility are not easy options for ANYONE on any side of the fence, as blog after blog can attest. Let me try again... Like many cases in infertility land, our path to use surrogacy was an extremely difficult one.

For you see, I know the pain of carrying a child in your womb for 9 months and then giving it to someone else. I can pretend that my pain was "more" because the child was genetically linked, but I really have no way of knowing that. The best I can hope for is that the verbal evidence I am given from those "in the know" is what my surrogate will experience: that it's not easy, especially that day in the delivery room, but that the surrogate knows from the beginning that the child is not hers. Knowing that her GIFT will enable her to help her own children - something HUGE that I think most articles on the subject seem to miss, but mothers pick up on right away - helps to ease the worry. At least a little. 

My main nurse in Anand is twice a surrogate. She is always happy with a smile and her recent deliveries occurred when she was about 39 and 41, the last one being only a year earlier. She has worked at the clinic for approximately 9 years. She's not the only nurse that is a former surrogate and I dare say that they would certainly have inside information on what the women go through before making those decisinos for themselves. 

The life and emotional well-being of my nurse is a strong contrast of how my life was a year after giving up my child for adoption. Maybe emotionally she's an exception, but I don't think so. Speaking and reviewing empirical information on former surrogates lets me see how their lives are changed for the better, but I still don't fool myself into believing that the initial period after births are easy-breezy for them.¹

When I was pregnant and 15, I listened to people tell me that, "if I loved my baby, I would give it up for adoption." No one told me how the pain would rip me apart. The pain didn't even fully settle till months after, when it was far too late by legal standards to do anything about it, (even though I did try). Having been ostracized by any "good girls", combined with an already deep ability have depression (even before my pregnancy), it's no surprise that I continued making bad choices for awhile. I have no doubt that post-partum equally contributed it's ugly head during those times. 

And then I stopped making bad choices, (at least for awhile). At 19 I was engaged to a man 5 years my senior and became pregnant. While I certainly had not (I promise) PLANNED on being pregnant, after I got over the initial shock, there was a sense that a huge hole in me was in some way going to be repaired. I had to clean up my act for my baby. My marriage lasted for a very brief period, as my husband did not share my epiphany, but my second son helped me heal. Tremendously. 

I won't pretend that I haven't had other ups and downs in my life, many of my own doing on both accounts, but to say that giving up my first-born for adoption didn't have a huge impact on my life would be a lie. My first-born is now old enough to have tried to seek me out and even though I put in the initial papers that he could, he never has. Something that both grieves me and relieves me. It's probably been over 20 years since I dared even open the box containing all of the documentation and correspondence I had during those difficult times, but I still have the box. And it's a big box. It has been a long time since I grieved on his birthday, but there were many, many years that I did. Now, most birthdays go by without even remembering. Not because I don't love him, quite the opposite, but I guess my mind finally kicked in it's defense mechanism that we humans are so famous for. 

Invariably when I see surrogacy articles, I get enraged when I see all the comments about "they are selfish and should just adopt!" Do people think the mothers of adopted children didn't equally grieve? Some maybe less, but many possibly more. (There are more reasons that these comments enrage me, but I will save those for another day.) Do people not know that the amount an Indian  surrogate makes, even though small by western standards, can effectively change her and her families life? The surrogate can start a store or buy a rickshaw for her family to earn more. Things that were never even remotely possible for her prior.

Surrogate mothers choose their paths for a variety of reasons, but as long as it is their choice and they are fully informed, we should not take away that right or even judge it. Not even if the woman is poor and does it simply for the money. A poor woman wanting a better future for her family should not be held to a lower standard than other women. Knowing a little bit about Indian culture, I know that these women don't do it for pure altruistic reasons as I sometimes see touted, but that doesn't make their GIFT any less. 

Surrogacy is hard for me, but the adoption option would be even harder. My baby may have been unplanned, but he was definitely not unwanted. Not any more than my second child. I can not imagine reliving my 15 and 16 year old life from the other side of the fence. Adoption is not even on the table for us for us for many reasons, including simple ones like wondering if we would even be allowed AND our desire to have a genetic child. It was not until my most recent trip to India that I even acknowledged to myself about how my teenage years affected some of my angst of our current journey. 

Does the 40 year old me regret giving up my child for adoption? Surprisingly - no. I don't think the 20-ish one did either. I knew that the 16 year old me could not give a life to a child that even a 20 year old me could give. Even the 20 year old me had difficulties, but I think my second son turned out pretty awesome,. My first son would have had less of a chance and there is a high likelihood that if I had kept him, my second son would not have been born. 

I don't doubt that most surrogates go through pain when giving a child they have carried for 9 months to the intended parents, but I don't believe that most would want to keep the child either. The financial burden compiled with the stigma would be something that we westerners could not even begin to understand. At 16, I may not have understood all the pain that would occur with my decision to give my baby up for adoption, but it was the right decision. For me, my future self, and both of my sons. 

¹  I can ONLY speak from my experiences with my clinic, there are tons of nefarious ones out there that I hope are regulated out of business soon.

Weekly wrap-up: EEOC, DHEA, and a shooting in a temple

Couple of new things:
1.) I filed my EEOC compliant last week against my last company. Time was running out and I was still feeling massive stress over the whole ordeal. Just going to the EEOC made me feel better. I think a light went off in my head with all the Chick-Fil-A stuff and other things I talk about elsewhere. One day it occurred to me: how can I stand up for others rights when I don't have the courage to stand up for my own. Will post more about all of this later.

2.) I'm still hormonal from the DHEA. Tend to feel very enraged at small things. I've asked my friend if I can use her as a bouncing board to see if my "reaction matches the situation". She said yes, so at least I have that as a fall back. Facebook seems to be a never-ending frustration of anger for me, so I think I will just try and cut back. Anyhow, the DHEA has a big effect on my emotions, but it's totally worth it.

3.) My deepest condolences go out to the Sikh community and all those affected by the terrible tragedy at the temple in Wisconsin. There is so much hate in this world. We must all do our part to change this for now and for future generations. At least this is encouraging: Hundreds attend suburban Sikh prayer vigils. Will try and write more on this later. I hope the world doesn't think we are all ignorant and full of hate.

New word for the day: Abaya

Popular Abaya designer aab:  http://aabuk.wordpress.com/

I'm stewing over some stuff from the last week and this week, so in the interim you get a fashion post. You've been warned about these things before. It's your own fault for reading...
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I'm not even sure I should write this post. There is a high likelihood that it will draw an unfavorable comment or two, which would be the exact opposite of my intent. Still, on my recent trip to India I came across something I have never seen before, and quit frankly, mislabeled (in probably a horribly politically incorrect phrase) as a bedazzled burqa. Thus for a moment I will pause here and say that I do not wish to judge or have others judge a woman's motivation to wear certain styles of clothes on this post. This is an extremely complicated subject that I feel is better left discussed elsewhere.

Now that we got that seriousness out of the way - back to my point: BEDAZZLED burqas! Ok, after stumbling across an article in Hindustan Times, I was given a small lead that what I marveled at in Gujurat on many occasions, may not have actually been a burqa. According to the article, "designer Anand Bhushan says, 'Even we may not be able to tell an abaya from a burqa. So, we shouldn’t feel hurt. After all, Hermes did a whole sari collection. What bigger compliment do we need?'"  First I thought to myself, "that Hermes sari line IS pretty fabulous" and then I thought, "wait - what is an abaya?" 


Let me back up for a minute. India has a diverse population that consists largely of Hindus and Muslims (other's too, but for the sake of brevity, we won't get into all of that for now.) In Kashmir, for instance, there is about a 95% Muslim population, though it is a major tourist area and thus you see many Indians from all over the country with all sorts of backgrounds. Here is where I saw about 10% of the resident female population (that was out in public) in full burqas on a previous trip. In Gujarat (where I just returned from), there is a much, much smaller Muslim population, but as it borders Pakistan you will see various levels of Muslim tradition reflected in attire (men and women). What I began to notice in Gujarat was the more traditional styles of Islamic outfits were somewhat different than what I have previously been exposed to. 

It started as we passed through a train stop. I was casually looking out the window when I saw a woman dressed from head to toe (including veil) that was somehow different. Part of it was her hijab, but part of it was simply her. She had a confidence about her that is rare anywhere. She was tall, lean, wore expensive (vision) eye-wear, and had one hand on her hip. Then I noticed her outfit. Though it certainly covered everything, even it was remarkably beautiful.  Like she had stepped off a runway, put on her glasses and veil, and went off to catch a train with her friend. Something a little like the picture below except WITH SPARKLES

from:  http://fashion.officialtips.com/uncategorized/abaya-in-fashion.html 

Or like this (replace the white WITH SPARKLES)

from:  http://she9.blogspot.com/2010/06/new-abaya-style-latest-bridal-abayas.html 

Rarely am I floored by a woman I see for 60 seconds, but this one was stunning.

Over the next week and a half, I noticed that the Muslim women dressed in all black all had little extras to their outfits. Mostly it was crystals, sometimes only small patterns and sometimes ones that would rival a teenager with a swarovski addiction. There were also lots with lace or chiffon worked into the sleeves and hems. All such new styles and not at all the image we westerners often have of such things. 

Don't get me wrong, this post is neither pro or con: simply to highlight how I am constantly amazed how things are not always how we think they are. I love traveling and seeing new things, and this was just another reminder of this. Should I ever travel to a country where a heavier coverage is required of me it's good to know that there is as wide a variety in this as anything else.

In one of the large shopping marts we frequented,  I remember seeing a young lady in one of these beautiful decorated abayas, veil over her face, at the checkout lane with her friends in various outfits. She was the only one with a veil, but some had abayas and some wore other typical Indian attire. As I looked across the room at her I noticed something else: eyes wrapped expertly with kohl were staring back at ME in wonderment. The blonde hair, blue-eyed, Caucasian girl dressed like an Indian complete with bangles on my arms, bindi on my forehead, and  sindoor in my hair. What a sight I must have been to her.