Lawyer Mama

How to Make People Instantly Uncomfortable: Tell Them You're Infertile!

Last weekend, at the BogHer 2010 in conference in New York, I had the chance to attend a panel about blogging grief, loss and tragedy on the internet. One of the panelists was Cecily Kellogg, who blogs as Uppercase Woman and is a noted infertility blogger. Cecily was on the panel to share her experiences after she developed preeclampsia and was forced to terminate her twin pregnancy at 23.5 weeks to save her own life. The stories of all of the panelists, including Cecily’s, were heartbreaking, but they were hopeful as well.

Many people are uncomfortable hearing or even reading about someone’s grief. As people undergoing infertility treatments or with the infertility diagnosis, we are all acutely aware of this. We’ve all suffered through those uncomfortable moments where well meaning family and friends joke about how you’re not getting any younger and you’d better think about having kids before your ovaries shrivel up. If you explain that you’ve been trying for several years and start mentioning ovarian reserve testing and male factor infertility, people just don’t know how to react.

Despite the inability of onlookers to process open grief, everyone on the panel indicated that blogging and the online community they’d found, saved them in many ways. Listening to the women on the panel discuss their grief and loss openly was refreshing. You see, when my husband and I were struggling to have our first child, I wasn’t blogging yet. I kept a diary and it helped to write about it, but we weren’t really sharing our experiences with anyone we knew. The very first time I got pregnant, we told everyone. After I lost the baby, we decided we weren’t going to be in that position again, openly grieving in front of everyone.

Read the rest of this post on the Attain Fertility blog....

Just a reminder to everyone (and to make the FTC happy), I'm a paid outside consultant and Community Manager for Attain Fertility. But I did not attend BlogHer on their dime.

Adorable Retro Shoes for BlogHer 2010

I got some new shoes that are so adorable, I had to share them.

 

This photo made possible by the wonder of my life that is the iPhone.

What are you wearing to BlogHer?

I'll be speaking on a panel on Friday afternoon, Creating Tangible Social Change: How to Move People to Action. It's at 1:15pm, so don't miss it!  I'll be the one in the really cute shoes.

Lawyer Mama in Ms. Magazine

Color me shocked.  My good friend and fellow MOMocrat, Joanne Bamberger (aka PunditMom), mentioned me and the MOMocrats when she was interviewed by Kara Jesella for an article in Ms. Magazine, Cyberhood is Powerful: Moms Increasingly Taking up Blogging.  (You can read an excerpt in the link to Alternet but you have to go buy the magazine to read the whole article, including my mention.)  In turn, Ms. Jesella mentions Lawyer Mama and the MOMocrats in her article.

When I saw the title, I was expecting yet another story about moms who blog, it's all about the kids, yadda yadda, Dooce, yadda yadda.  But Ms. Jesella's article is one of the first to take a look at the political side of moms who blog.  She interviewed some political punditry heavy weights, including Joanne, Veronica Arreola of Viva la Feminista and Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner of Moms Rising. 

The fact is, mothers who blog tend to cover lots of topics.  Yes, I write about my children, my family and my marriage.  But just as frequently I touch on politics or feminist issues.  In fact, at MOMocrats I write even more about politics than you necessarily see on this blog.  I am not just a "mommy blogger."  Thank you, Ms. Jesella, for pointing out that moms who blog have insightful thoughts on more than just diaper brands and breastfeeding.

Now I'm heading off to Pittsburgh tomorrow for Netroots Nation and the "MOMocrats panel", The Revolution Begins at Home: Involving Parents in Politics through Social Media.  If you'll be at NN, please come by.

Mommy Blogging and BlogHer '08

Don't worry, my peeps.  I'll write a "who went where and did what with whom" post about BlogHer eventually.  Probably a week after everyone else and no one will care anymore.  Heh.  I just have all these thoughts swirling around in my head that I need to get out there first.

Last year's BlogHer was all about connecting with other bloggers for me.  I went to most of the mommy blogging sessions, a writing session, and 1 political session.  I wasn't all that impressed.

The mommy session I enjoyed most last year was the one discussing whether Mommy Blogging was a radical act.  We covered a lot of ground, but we didn't really get into the meat of some interesting topics that came up: race, inclusion and exclusion, and using your blog platform to do something more.  Anyway, the consensus last year seemed to be that putting yourself out there with all your warts and wrinkles was a radical act.  In ripping the rose colored glasses off of motherhood, we were helping other moms and building a community of women who understood that it was OK to be less than perfect.

At the time, that was just what I needed to hear.  It helped me to admit that I had a problem.  I was depressed and I needed help.

Since I came back from my "mental health holiday" I've been a bit detached from the Momosphere.  I read the blogs of my friends in batches.  I read all of MOM-101's monthly posts one day.  Three days later I hit The Bloggess.  Two days later I read Mamma Loves or my lovely AD.  A week later I read Jess's posts and spend an hour afterward giggling to myself.  Gone are the days when I spent an hour every morning before the kids got up reading as many posts as I could in Bloglines.  Gone are the days when I went net surfing for new and fun blogs.  Hell, I'm lucky to just visit the blogs of those who comment on my blog.

The thing is, I know that Liz, Amie, Jenny, Jess, Jen, Tanis, Julie, Joanne (look at all those J's), Kyla, Bon, Sarah, Casey, Celeste, Gwen, Christine, Deb, Kari, Jenn, and all the rest of you, you know who you are, are my community.  If I need them, they will be there and I will be there for them.  Whether or not we've hung on each other's every written word for the last 3 months will be irrelevant.  We'll be there.

This year, I did not attend any of the mommy blogging sessions.  Nor did I attend the session titled "Is Mommy Blogging Still A Radical Act?"  I didn't attend because I know that I can answer that question for myself.  After 2 years of blogging, I've realized that I don't need to constantly talk about the highs and lows of parenting.  I've realized something and it's not going to be popular:

Mommy blogging is not a radical act.

Just writing about the good and the bad of being a parent is not in itself a radical act.  I'm sorry, but it's true.  It's simply not radical for me anymore.  Bad is the new good and everyone's bad in the way everyone used to be good perfect.

So just what is radical if simply writing about the bad isn't?

Stepping out from behind the anonymity of the computer and telling 1,000 women how you feel.

Writing, not just about the bad, but about hope.  Spreading that hope to others.  Writing to change yourself, or the world, or society's views, or change social policy.  Then, stepping away from your computer and doing something about it.

Acting.  Now that's radical.

This year I spent all of my time in the political sessions and I attended the lone photography session as well.  This year, I feel like I got much more out of the BlogHer sessions.  That's not to say that anyone who attended the other sessions was shallow or somehow less worthy, it's just that I've finally figured out where I belong. 

It's not necessarily with the Mommy Bloggers, where I figured I always fit best. Writing for MOMocrats this year, becoming active in politics both locally and nationally, has changed me.  It has elementally changed me.  I'll never be able to go back to being passive and uninvolved again.

I'll keep writing at Lawyer Mama.  I'll keep writing about my children and my joys and frustrations in life.  I'll keep calling this a Mommy Blog, because it is.  But writing here isn't a radical act.

I'll save my radical acts for the real world.

You Can Say You Knew Me When....

I'm in my local paper today.  You can see the online version, although you have to click on the photo slide show to see my photo and the answer to what I wore.  I wasn't thrilled to discover that I look ginormous in the selected photo, but at least my scarf is hiding a gratuitous boob shot!

Hollis was a tad bit upset because the photographer also took a bunch of pictures of us reading books on the couch. (Actually, we were reading on of these Leapfrog TAG books.)  Hollis was holding Gary in the couch photos.  All weekend he kept asking me when Gary was going to be in the paper.  I guess in his mind it was all about the kitten!

Anyway, he was still super excited today when his sitter showed everyone his picture in the paper.  Holden, was unconcerned and probably asked for a cookie.

If you've stopped by courtesy of the Virginian Pilot, leave me a comment and say "Hi!"  If you're looking for more of my stuff to read, there's a nice selection of my favorites over on the left hand sidebar about half way down.  Enjoy!  And welcome!

The Urge to Bare All

Sometimes I censor what I write here.

Surprised?

I know some of my readers are.  You're thinking, "Dear lord, she's already told us the nitty gritty details of her infertility, pregnancy complications, birth, breastfeeding, depression and every disappointment and joy in her life.  What else could there be????"

Others are nodding in agreement thinking, "Yes, we all censor.  Even to ourselves.  Who ever really bares it all except in the dark of night in those terrifyingly torpid moments when we wonder who we are and why we seem to be traveling at a glacial pace to nowhere?" (Or maybe that's just me.)

I don't write about my job or my clients.  I don't write things that might hurt family members or friends.  There are certain areas of my marriage that are off limits.  Aside from that, I don't censor much.  But you see I've run across something, or should I say someone, from the past in the blogosphere.  In my corner of the world.  Not that I own the blogging world, but it's made me think even more about what and how much I reveal here.

I'm not worried about the mundane details like name, address, and phone number.  If you've got enough time that's easy enough to find.  I've been easily Google-able since before Google.  It's not that I have a diary of my daily happenings on display.  (Y'all know I find that as about as exciting as watching paint dry.)  No, what's bothering me is the display of those even more personal details found only inside my head and on the digital pages of this memorialization of my soul.

I'm 35 years old, so what do I have to hide?  From people I know now?  Nothing.  You've never known me as anything other than what I am.  I don't hide who I am now.  From people who once knew me long ago?  Who walked beside me in hallways, watched from stadium risers, and knew more intimate moments?  Everything.

I wish I could explain this with more clarity, but I find myself for once, amazingly, almost stuck for words. 

There's a bit of an exhibitionist in every blogger.  I have a need to put myself, my words, my thoughts, and my art out there for you to see, to read, to judge, to admire.  Admiration is the crack that feeds the writer's blogger's soul.  For awhile I wondered who I was writing this blog for.  Me?  Or the hundreds of people who read it?  (OK, so maybe it was hundreds.  In my blog-slacking over the last 6 months it's become more like hundred, no s. On a good day.)

But only when faced with the possibility of the ultimate of readers, the ultimate admiration, by someone who once was everything and who still does, and always will, occupy a tiny piece of my heart, do I realize the truth:

This blog is for me. 

It isn't for you.  It isn't for her. 

It isn't for him.

It would be better if I never looked again.  If I deleted the link, the contact, and walked away.  But morbid curiosity, wonder at what might have been, or even the need for some glimpse of what will be, will keep me going back.  I know.  Just to look.  To peek.  Maybe even to gloat or revel in my blessings.  Silently, of course.

I already suspect a line or two written for my eyes.  A reminder of what is no longer mine, what really hasn't been mine for a very long time - half a lifetime, almost.  I know that.

I have my own life.  I have my own love.  I have my own family.  There are no regrets.  Everything in my life made me who I am now.  Despite all my insecurities, neuroses, and overly complicated, twisted, self-absorbed, overly reflective mind, I love who I am.  I wouldn't change a thing that happened 20 years ago or 15 years ago. My first love, my first heartbreak, my first everything brought me to where I am now, to the love of my life, to the two loves of something even more.

After almost two years of frank exhibitionism, I realize that there is one person I don't want to perform for.  There is one person I don't want reading this blog.

So I'm hoping that he won't.  And I'm hoping that you won't give him the chance to.

TypePad Can Suck It (WordPress Rocks)

The Scream (with apologies to Edvard Munch)

In my inaugural post here I alluded to the large pain in the rear I had setting up my TypePad blog.  The configuring and all that was just fine.  I got my lovely banner and colors fixed up easily.

No, the problem was importing my content from Blogger.

You see, Blogger and TypePad don't speak the same language.  The blog formats are different.  Or at least that's what TypePad's help page and Blogger's help page told me.  Apparently no one at TypePad has bothered to write some little program to make importing Blogger content easy and painless. 

I did, however, have the option of reformatting my Blogger blog, saving it to my computer & then importing it into Typepad.  So I did that.  If at any time in the last 7 days, you went to my blogspot blog & it looked all wonky and unformatted, that's what I was doing.  Saving my content for the 5000th time.

I say 5000th time because it just didn't work.  I followed Blogger's directions first.  It imported about half of my posts.  Then I tried TypePad's directions (which were slightly different).  It imported all of my posts - twice - and no comments.  I tried a slightly different version of the code format and got all my posts but only 10% of my comments.  I tried the same code again and got only 42 posts and no comments.  The same exact code!  And there's no easy way  to start over on Typepad.  I had to go through and delete every. single. post. every time.  That's 342 posts and almost 5,000 comments.  ARGH!

I was a heartbeat away from stabbing myself in the eye with a binder clip just to ease the pain.

So finally, after spending several days and countless hours messing with the code to try and get all of my content imported, I started a WordPress blog.  It took me 3 minutes to export my content from Blogger to WordPress.  It got every comment, tag, and post on the first try.

Then I exported from WordPress to my computer and finally successfully imported all of my posts and comments to TypePad in only 2 tries.

But, Typepad?  If I hadn't been able to export from WordPress to TypePad so quickly?  I would be canceling my 14 day trial period and over at WordPress for good right now.  So take heed and talk to the people at Blogger!  If you want us to come over here from Blogger and pay for the privilege, then you need to make getting here a little easier. 

And, Typepad? If y'all read this and actually care and would like to offer me a free account for awhile to make up for the loads of inconvenience and wasted time, I wouldn't be opposed.  You have my email.

My fellow blogging peeps?  If you're thinking of making a jump to a new blog host, go with WordPress.  It has all the options you have on TypePad and it's a hell of a lot easier to use!

P.S. Now that I've angered the TypePad gods, If my blog suddenly disappears overnight you'll all know why.

What Are My Words Worth?

Before I get down to the nitty gritty, I have a review up at Law(yer Mama) Review.  Did you read the book, The Three Martini Playdate?  I read it; my husband read it; we both loved it.  So when PBN gave me the opportunity to review Christie Mellor's latest book, Were You Raised By Wolves? I had to do it.  So head over to Lawyer Mama Review and see what I thought.

Because you know the world revolves around my opinion....

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A few weeks ago, the bloggers on D.C. Metro Moms blog had some interesting news.  We're being syndicated.  The founders of Silicon Valley Moms Blog, and all its various regional offshoots, negotiated an agreement with the McClatchy Group to syndicate three to five posts a week from the SV Moms Blogs. The McClatchy Group selected the first three posts about three weeks ago.  My post about Sexism in Advertising was one of them.

 

Here's the kicker: none of us, not even the founders of Silicon Valley Moms, are being paid.

 

Until now I've pretty much stayed out of the controversy over paid versus unpaid blogging.  I can certainly sympathize with freelance writers who pay their rent with their words.  This is what they do for a living.  They are highly trained journalists and wonderful writers.  If I accept an unpaid blogging "job" am I simply lowering the market price for the words of the professionals?

I know that a few bloggers, some who are freelance writers, have opted out of the syndication on the SV Moms blogs.  I can completely understand that.  The syndication has no value to them aside from gaining name recognition or resume building.  If you already have that as a freelance writer, why give your words away for free to print publications that normally pay you?

So what do I get out of an unpaid syndication of my words?  Name recognition?  Maybe.  Although I doubt that I'll be syndicated so regularly that people will start demanding my posts!  An ego massage?  Maybe.  It is nice to see your words, your byline in actual cellulose and newsprint.  Resume building?  Definitely.

For those of us who write (as opposed to Write) for fun, therapy, or recognition, the idea of being a freelance writer or (gasp!) writing a book is heavenly.  I've been saying since law school that I want to be a Writer when I grow up.  Granted, my job already involves a lot of writing but it isn't writing that feeds my soul.  Of course, there's no guarantee that free lance writing or even writing a book would do that either.  Publishers will only pay for what sells.  And who wants to pay to read my narcissistic rambles?

I don't pretend to know the answer to the paid versus unpaid blogging and writing debate.  I do know that business models for mainstream media are changing because of the blogosphere.  People are fleeing traditional media for the web and many of the providers of news and information on the web are doing it for free.  With print publication budgets plummeting, is it any wonder that MSM wants to get in on the free stuff?

 

I got my first hits on my syndicated article a few weeks ago, via my automatic "Lawyer Mama" Google Alert, from the Centre Daily Times in Centre, Pennsylvania and the Modesto Bee in Modesto, California.  I've gotten more since then, but I'm too lazy to link them all.  So clearly there is a market for my sort of writing, just apparently not enough to pay me.

 

Whether this increases my blog traffic (So far, no, but it might help if I posted something here on occasion!), or enables me to add "professional writer" to my resume remains to be seen.  Maybe I can even start calling myself a Writer with a capital W.  All I know is that I think it's pretty cool.  So if you happen to see me in print somewhere, for God's sake, cut it out and send it to me!

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Speaking of unpaid blogging, don't forget to read my review of Were You Raised by Wolves? over at Law(yer Mama) Review!

 

 

Iraq: Five Years Later

I'm over at MOMocrats today spouting off about the Iraq war today. Actually, all of the MOMocrats are. Check it out.

I was also spouting off about Mommy guilt yesterday at D.C. Metro Moms Blog. Something I know nothing about. {/sarcasm} Actually, all of the D.C. Metro Moms were. Check it out.

I'm also spouting off at Lawyer Mama Dabbles about my discovery and love of color and such. Check it out. I like that photo essay so much, I may post it over here.

And you thought I'd just been slacking lately!

Yes, my readers, comments, and Technorati rating are starting to approach zero, but that's just because I don't have time to comment on all of your lovely blogs. I've been doing the "drive by" a lot lately and I apologize. I'm not doing a very good job of holding up my end of the conversation. But I'm trying.

The Emperor's New Clothes

My blog is my little narcissistic home away from home. In my corporeal life, my friends and family tend to get annoyed if I spend too much time naval gazing, talking about myself, or whining about my real (or imagined) problems. In the blog world, people seem to enjoy reading about my foibles and frequently come back for more.

Of course, part of that return readership is no doubt related to the dialogue and rapport we establish on our blogs. But let's face it, part of the appeal of blog reading is the glimpse we get into someone else's life. That life may be one you envy, one you relate to, or one that makes you feel superior and relieved to be you. Sometimes it's all of those. Frequently it's all of those.

I know that I personally enjoy reading about politics, social issues, and things we can do to make a difference. But the blogs posts that haunt me are personal. They incorporate real experiences, real relationships, and real problems into hauntingly beautiful writing. It's like a never ending novel with my favorite characters. But I get to keep reading about Lizzie and Mr. Darcy's life after their marriage. I read about their restrained arguments, fertility problems, and intolerable in-laws.

Sometimes, I get to meet my favorite characters in person.

When I think about the things I leave off of my blog and cloak in "privacy," I frequently try to compare it to writing a novel. I ask myself "if I put this fight with my husband in a book with different names, would he be angry?" The answer is sometimes yes and sometimes no. But a blog is different. There is no line stating "any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental" to hide behind. We aren't characters in a novel. This is my life out there for all the world to Google, read, and judge.

So how do I maintain that thin, but important, veil of privacy around those I love?

I do have certain rules. I don't blog about my sex life or my personal relationship with my husband. This has left some readers with the impression that T is annoyingly perfect. Trust me when I say he is anything but perfect. He's a hell of a lot closer to it than I am, but no one is perfect. But our marriage and the trust we have to share our innermost feelings is far more important than a blog post. T's issues are not mine to share. They belong to him. My issues with T are not mine to share. They belong to us.

I also refrain from blogging about family problems. As with my relationship with my husband, trust is more important than airing my parents' dirty laundry. That's why I have a therapist!

I don't blog about work. I have no desire to be Dooced, destroy my relationships with opposing counsel and co-workers, or be disbarred.

Those are the easy rules.

The hardest rules are those with my children. That's a post for another day because I don't have 5 hours to share my thoughts (and guilt) about their privacy.

What about other people I interact with or people from my past? They fall into a gray area. I can't avoid blogging about any of my personal relationships or this would be a pretty boring blog. But I do have to think about how I would feel if that person found my blog. Or how I would feel if anyone from my past found my blog.

I've written about a painful relationship and break up I had in my early twenties and my still, somewhat, unresolved feelings about the whole matter. How would I feel if my ex-boyfriend read my post about him? How would he feel? I don't think I would be upset. In fact, I know I wouldn't. I would never post something about someone I know that I wouldn't tell them in person if they asked.

But the ex? I have a feeling he might be a bit upset about my revelations about his more recent past. I would apologize for hurting him, but I don't think I would remove the post. If he had confidentially shared the information about his past, I would never have written the post in the first place. But he didn't and ultimately the post is more about me than anyone else.

I was forced to think about my invisible cloak of privacy because two people I knew in high school are now occasionally reading my blog (Hi, K! Hi, B!) one of whom I suspect had a crush on me once upon a time.... (Or maybe I'm projecting.) Somehow it's easier to think of strangers reading my intimate thoughts about a deeply personal topic than it is to think of friends who knew me and my ex-boyfriend, who knew the people we were then.

Happily Ever After was one of the most personal posts I've ever written. It says a lot about me and who I am now. And so, ultimately, I guess I'm happy to have anyone who knew me then, know me now.

When you're looking at me on display in all my naked glory? Just try to ignore the stretch marks.

This post is for Julie's weekly Hump Day Hmmm.