Claudine M. Jalajas; Essays

You talking to me?

I've been a writer for many years. I always wanted to be a writer actually. (Oh my! I'm living my dream!) When I was a young teen I assumed that real writers write for one of three things; newspaper, magazine, or books. My mother still believes that. My undergraduate degree is in technical communications, which means that I specialize in writing stuff that explains other stuff. For example, help files for software applications, training manuals for proprietary corporate software, user guides, and corporate intranet content. Asleep yet? Not only was no-one allowed to read what I wrote for legal reasons, it wasn't something the family wanted to curl up on the sofa and read with a cup of tea and cookies. So, one masters degree in creative writing later, I changed my professional focus. I had just recently started writing for Achieving Families and thought that my mother would like to see an article, by me, in a magazine. Finally, something betwixt glossy photo-covered pages.

Last November I gave birth to my daughter Annabelle. (Great name, right?) My mother traveled to our home in order to help during my c-section recovery and to take care of my children while I was in the hospital. Once home, a copy of Achieving Families arrived in the mail and I handed it to her with pride. She raised her eyebrows and reviewed the cover as if I'd handed her a complicated puzzle. She said, "Oh, this is who you write for?" I pointed out what page my essay was on and she casually flipped the pages reminding me of myself at a doctor's office -- desperate to find something to catch my attention. When she realized that the magazine was dedicated to infertility she seemed embarrassed and said, "oh, this is what the magazine is always about?" My mother is somewhat prudish but I was confident there were no penis diagrams or the words, vagina, sperm, or sex in large font anywhere. So, I was a little surprised and simply replied, "Yeah." She put it down on the coffee table, giggled, and said, "Well, I wouldn't buy a magazine like that." My postpartum hormones raged and my eyes welled. I said, "Well, I didn't think you wanted to get pregnant." She averted her eyes and sealed the conversation with, "Well, even when I did, I wouldn't have read something like that."

I left the living room and remade my bed; this time with much tighter corners.

I knew better than to show that to my mother and normally I would have avoided it -- it was a dumb move on my part. I had always avoided the topic of infertility and my difficulties in getting pregnant with my mother -- we don't have that sort of relationship my mother and I. For years she would say things like, "it would be so nice if you had a baby." I'd grit my teeth and say, "I know, mom." When my first pregnancy ended in miscarriage her comments and tone reminded me of when I was five years old and scraped my knees skipping rope. It happens to everyone -- what's the big deal?

Some people can be very stoic and self-sufficient, have families where there are no secrets, and supportive husbands who always know the exact right thing to say. If this is you: congratulations. If it's not -- I understand.

There are many sources of help and places that you can go to talk and be heard. Check with your local library, churches, doctor's office, and organizations (like RESOLVE) for support groups. I preferred the online environment like iVillage. It worked for me because I work at a computer just about all day. I also liked the anonymity of being online. You could ask ANY question and not worry about how stupid it seemed. Both Google and Yahoo have "groups" and you can do a detailed topic search to find the group for you. Some message boards are better than others -- some are not moderated though. There will be times that you see things like, "if you circle the bed three times and then stand on your head for one hour you will reduce your risk of miscarriage and there's a more than 50% chance you'll have a girl." Some are moderated with experts in the field who can answer questions and offer alternatives to giving yourself a migraine from standing on your head for so long. Some boards also have geographic -- specific groups and you can chat online and also get together at local coffee shops etc. I've made some very good friends through online groups.

About a week after my miscarriage so many years ago, my neighbor's mother was visiting her -- she waved hello to me and said, "How are you feeling?" obviously not knowing. My neighbor quickly and quietly said to her mother, "she had a miscarriage." Her mother, a person I had met only once or twice before, came over and hugged me very tight. While rubbing my back she softly said, "Oh honey, I'm so sorry."

When you have something to talk about or need a shoulder, be careful who you talk to or who you lean on. The person you think should be the most sympathetic and understanding might be all wrong. Sometimes it's the total stranger that will give you the comfort you need.