Why Are We Waiting To Have Children?

Nation Successfully Completes Mother's Day By 9:18 A.M.

Mastitis??? Are you frickin' kidding me?

I'm sitting at home Tuesday night, my husband's at his Spanish class, and I randomly put my hand on my left breast close to the breastbone.  There's a pronounced lump very close to the surface.  I could see the lump in the mirror and the site was kind of red and irritated.  And I felt sick like I had the flu but very lightly.

In the morning, the redness was worse and I called in sick to work. I made an appointment to see my new Kasier doctor (the short story of switching to Kaiser was that now my health is stabilized and Blue Cross was acting more and more like an HMO, I thought I'd just switch to one).  She could see me that morning.

I thought for sure it was a cyst since I've had those before but the lump was hard and it really came out of nowhere so I was stumped.  As I waiting for the doctor to come into the room I looked at myself in the mirror and the skin was now really red.  She came in and instantly declared it mastitis.  What?  You don't think it's a cyst because I've had those before?  Don't you want to do a needle aspiration?  What the heck is mastitis?

The doctor just said it was an infection.  I asked, "An infection of what?"  Now she answered "the skin" but my further internet research told me that was bunk.  Anyway, she prescribed some antibiotics and said I'd be feeling better by Friday.

My flu-like symptoms went away by Thursday and I was already, thankfully taking Thursday and Friday off from work so I was able to relax at home.  The lump is still there and it hurts to press on it but I try to avoid that expect when my husband's cousin hugged me too hard and I yelled out in pain.

From what I understand, mastitis is most commonly a Staph infection of the breast tissue.  And only breastfeeding women get it and in rare cases, non-breastfeeding women can get it too.  So the cruel irony is that you don't have to be breastfeeding to get a breast infection.  I had a massage about seven hours before the lump appeared so I can only assume it came from that.  You know, lying on your stomach, warm table, maybe not washed since the last client.  We all have Staph on our skin that's friendly to us so this must have been foreign Staph.

The Next Chapter

You can probably tell that blogging has not been a priority for me in the last several months.  Ever since Google stupidly deleted Reader it became very hard for me to stay up on my favorite blogs.  So, I stayed connected through JBTC's website.  She was so sweet to text me last night and check up on me.  I thought everyone deserved an update from me or at least I thought it was appropriate to wrap up in a way my infertility story.

By late August and early September, events in my life had become so traumatic, my body and brain could not tolerate the stress and pressure any longer.  Separation and divorce were imminent and we were already making concrete plans to go through with it.  I was my own worst enemy.

I took a step I should have several years ago.  I called my therapist that I'd worked with in my early to mid-twenties.  She is a talented, wonderful woman who helped me understand how my weaknesses were driving me further downward.  And, in this case, most importantly, she connected me with a psychiatrist that is reliable and caring (just what I needed).

The result of the treatment has been miraculous.  I am happy for the first time since the month we started trying to conceive: October 2009.  A major component of that happiness is hopefulness.  I'm able to look forward and see great things.

Work has never been better.  My annual evaluation deemed I was nearly perfect.  Of course, I took that with a grain of salt but being told you are showing incredible maturity and professionalism is pretty great.  My boss also said I was poised for executive management.  I manage six people and that has given my a wonderful sense of responsibility to mentor, guide, and inspire.  I love my job and look forward to work every morning.

My marriage has also recovered.  I realize we were in a negative feedback loop for years.  My anger and irritability made my husband defensive and sometimes aggressive.  And that made me angry and depressed.  I am no longer irritable.  Not to say my emotions are dampened; they're not.  It's just that I don't obsess over negative situations.  I get angry, say my piece and move on to something else.  I'm not flooded with negativity.

My energy level is very high.  Consequently, I'm highly productive.  I get a lot done in a day.  And I feel great doing it.  I feel very grateful for what I have.  I'm luckier than I should be.  God has done great things for me.  I'm still questioning Catholicism but it's a fruitful search.  My husband thinks I should go to confession more often but I'm taking it slow-a great pace for me.

I am no longer sensitive to infertility.  I suffered unnecessarily for a very long time but now I feel those bonds are loosened.

'Mother of George'

I just read a review for a new movie called 'Mother of George.' Apparently, it's a good movie and about infertility.  The tag line for the review is Trying to a Parent for Better of For Worse.  I think I'd cry straight through this kind of film.

http://movies.nytimes.com/2013/09/13/movies/mother-of-george-stars-danai-gurira-as-a-hopeful-bride.html?src=dayp

If anybody sees the film, please let me know.  I'm going to try and check it out in LA or if it comes here.

Those who run seem to have all the fun

I can't help but think the first few sentences of the Misfit's latest post might, just might be referencing me?  :)

Yes, I've been web silent.  Not much to say on the infertility front but here's the latest in my life.

1. Some weeks ago, I delivered a copy of my and the Archbishop's letter to my parish pastor along with my contact information (all of it.)  Did I hear from him?  No, of course not.  So, last Sunday after Mass, I walked up to him, put out my hand to shake his and said, "Hi Father, I'm [my name].  Did you read..."  He interrupts, "Yes, I know.  I read your letter."  My response, "Aren't you impressed?"  Is that not a leading question?  He said it was "impressive" I got a response from the Archbishop.  "Well, I'll make an appointment to meet with you and we can discuss the contents of my letter."  "Uh, um, ok."  He was not enthusiastic.  But I am not deterred.  I just have to figure out what I'll say before I make the appointment.
2. Things with the husband are going OK.  We are still living together.  I've been so busy at work that it helps keep my focus off my marriage (in a good way.)  
3. We are planning to hike Mt. Whitney (by way of the Mountaineer's Route) with three friends/relatives in September.  We have two guides and one day to do it.  Two guides were essential to not tie me to my husband's pace.  He can leave me in the dust for all I care now.  
4. Speaking of work, I now work a later schedule (YES!).  I can now come in at 9:30.  This has really changed my life in terms of my mood.  If I can sleep until 8am, I am a happy camper.  Working until near 7pm makes no difference.  I also have taken on a new division and great responsibilities.  Happy times.
5. I am living nearly 24/7 in these skirts: http://www.zappos.com/horny-toad-chaka-skirt-deep-ruby?zfcTest=fcl%3A0  They are so comfy.  I can dress up the black skirt (wearing now!) with a blazer so it's totally fine for work.  
6. We are thinking about down sizing our house.  We bought the four bedroom house with the intention of filling it with at least two kids.  No kids, no need for a big house.  So, we might be in the market in the next year or so.
7. My confidence levels have never been higher.  I think infertility and turning 36 will do that to you.  And maybe surviving a trek in Morocco does that, too.  But, I am not afraid to voice my well reasoned opinions.  I am not reckless with my words; I am just not hiding.
8. I got sick and tired of growing my hair out.  Just after ten months of growing it out and two months from a chin length bob, I got it cut.  It's a bit longer than the last pixie cut, but it's short.  I take delicious pleasure in not having to blow dry my hair.  I'm just happier this way.

In short, I have embraced the realities of life and have started to realize what my spiritual gifts really are.  Maybe more on that later.

Where's the acknowledgment from the naysayers?

While a three month wait for a response to a letter is pretty excessive in my opinion, I'm still super proud and happy the Archbishop responded.  I need to make a copy of the two letters and deliver to my parish priest.  Maybe that will get his attention.  And maybe I'll send it to the Los Angeles Archbishop....

I find it a little funny/strange that I haven't heard from the challengers on my initial posts on this topic.  In fact, my husband wants to know where you guys are and he told me to write that in my blog.  Thanks, honey.

I never understood why some folks wanted to defend the Archbishops comments in the USA Today article and call me out on my letter by saying I got him wrong.  I'm very happy he decided to respond so he could speak for himself.  That's the way it should be.

Faith in Church Somewhat Restored: The Archbishop Replies

Understanding

Since my last post, it got worse before it got better.  We're really taking things a day at a time.  Most of this process is clarifying my own values (starting a new term in my master's program - yeah! Leadership class is a major revelation) and determining now that I am almost 36 (counting the days) what is right for me.  My husband readily admits that I am more self-aware.  Sometimes what is plainly obvious to me won't become apparent to him for several months or years.  So, he's a man.  C'est la vie.

It might sound really unromantic but we decided to not live separately because we don't want the extra cost.  There.  I said it.  Separation and divorce can set both parties back financially ten years or more!  We don't want that and I have a feeling we can find a workable solution to save our marriage.  Tolerating frustration and pain is well, painful and most people want to eliminate pain as soon as possible but I'm trying desperately to show some maturity (and it is a major struggle).

We watched The Last Station last night.  I really recommend it.  It's about Leo Tolstoy, his wife, and followers in the last few months of his life.  Even my husband liked it.  But knowing a little bit about their marriage (based on their diaries), it's fascinating to look at an accomplished couple who struggled incredibly to stay married.

My husband has been making strides.  He's admitted he's been a bad husband.  He tells me he loves me.  He tells me he never wants a divorce.  He tells me he's trying to be better.

He took the clean dishes out of the dishwasher early this morning.  I mean, that's a major contribution in my book.

He's making progress on our personal business plan.  All these are good things.

And this morning, after I found at my office the landscape plans for our other house that had been "lost" for two weeks, I called my husband.

[Me] I've got good news for you.  You're going to be very happy.
[Him] You're pregnant!
[Me] Ha!  I'm still on my period.  I can't be pregnant. [I very much appreciated the humor.]
[Him] Oh, right.  You bought me that Ducati as a gift.
[Me] No, this gift is free!  It cost us nothing.

He thanked me for finding the plans.  He hasn't been a big "thank you", "I'm sorry", "Please" type of person so yes, he's making progress.  Without him trying I don't think we'd last.  But he realizes the hurt he's caused and willing to make it better.  Gotta respect that.

Shadowboxer

Part of the reason for such a long absence from (infertility) blogging is because we went on a hiking trip to M.or.occo for sixteen days.  Then we (although I got it 10 times worse than my husband) contracted the Sh.ig.ella bacteria which took me to the emergency room with severe diarrhea (it was water, people) and dehydration. I got two bags of fluids and took three different antibiotics to get rid of the infection.  Although we returned a month ago, I only started to feel better last week.  Most people in my life received the censored, watered down (no pun intented) version of the hike and the ensuing illness but you, my dear IF folk, get the real story.

The trip was awful.  I've received very complimentary comments from people saying how sporty/fit/adventurous/cool we are, but I'm here to say we are just foolish.  I am not discounting the training and fitness required for the trip, I'm just saying I/we were able to endure.  And that's all it took.

We had only five others on the trip; all British.  Normally, I have no problem with Brits but this particular group was pretty bad.  Anti-marriage, anti-wealth, anti-religion, anti-intellectualism, anti-the right to bear arms - all things I cannot tolerate.  The sexual innuendos were out of control.  One woman (leaving only me and E.lain.e) couldn't hang physically so she was asked to leave by our group leader.  The rest of the group made fun of her everyday after her departure.  I asked them to stop after the fourth day of that crap.  "She can't do it - that's clear but why gossip and put her down?  That's wrong."

The relationship with my husband deteriorated even further.  He said I was difficult to get along with and the group was shunning US because I was too slow on the downhill portions of the trails.  I had to literally beg him to be loyal and protective of me rather than side with the group (people we didn't know and would never see again.)  Half-way through the trip, I told him and the guide and heck, the group that I wanted to leave.  They all convinced me to stay saying I was more than capable of completing the trip.  Physically, that was true.  Emotionally was a very different story.

There were two incidents that really crushed any hope of the marriage working normally.  Our first major downhill section (3,500 ft) was really tough.  It's hard on everybody's knees.  I don't care how fast or slow you go, joint pain is inevitable.  My husband wanted to chase the muleteers so he and two others took off fast.  I was able to keep up with them for the first twenty minutes.  I then decided to rest more and slow down.  I found out later that John had told my husband that I had dropped back.  In fact, he did know himself because I was still on the mountain when I called to him down on the river bed.

The slow group (with our guide) was at least twenty minutes behind me.  But I couldn't see or hear them at any point so I was alone.  The trail was pretty clear (head to the river crossing) to the bottom of the canyon but after that, I had no information other than what the dossier had said, "we take our lunch under the welcome shade of trees near the river."  You might think that north Africa is dry; it's not.  There are plenty of waterways.

I got lost in the nearby village.  I was scared.  I didn't know where to go.  I was then caught between waiting for the slow group (not knowing how far they were behind me) and desperately wondering why my husband didn't come look for me.  I kept heading down.  I trooped through some villagers' wheat fields.  A woman was making noises at me as I tried not to look and keep walking.

I finally saw a mule near the river but couldn't be sure it was one of ours.  There are lots of mules in Mor.occo.  I finally spotted John, then El.ain.e, then my husband.  He was facing away from me, towards the water, with his boots off, relaxing in the sun.  I was livid.

I won't retell the epic fight we had.  The resolution was that he acknowledged he did the wrong thing and wouldn't do it again.  Famous last words.

This trip was billed as four, 4,000 meter peaks in the At.las mountains.  I did the first peak just fine.  The second required a major uphill slog after a 4:30 am wake-up call.  Once we got up to the pass, it was another 1/2 hour down to the canyon.  Those wanting to do the peak would climb up another mountain and go over several passes to the peak.  I had told the guide a day earlier that I was not inclined to climb the peak.  He told me that I didn't have to make an early decision: I could do that at the canyon.

Since I was the last to the canyon, the group waited all of two minutes to pack up and get back on the trail.  They started to walk up the hill when I yelled, "Wait!  I don't want to do the peak!"  Our guide told the cook in Berber, "[take the blonde to camp]" which was just a half hour down the canyon.  No one said a word to me at that moment - not even my husband.  No one called after me.  They just left.

When they got back to camp, another argument.

I decided that I could no longer trust my husband would give even the slightest thought to my well-being in these situations.  I have, for many years, forgiven and forgot these situations but I just can't do that anymore.  It's getting out-of-hand.  And some of the situations we get into are inherently dangerous.  Class 5 river rafting, racing his sport bike to 120 mph with me on the back, etc.  But this is actually an important side story.

Two weekends ago, because he hadn't ridden the sport bike in weeks, we wanted to take it out.  We needed to run some errands and I wanted to go with him.  I like that bike.  The fastest he will normally go for short periods of time is 80/85.  On the way home, on a straight-a-way, he kept pulling back on the throttle.  I could see that the speedometer was rising.

I was pretty nervous but not scared.  In fact, I told a co-worker, my sister, and my husband's cousin what we did.  Nobody reacted well.  My sister thought it was reckless and said not to tell our parents.  Cousin's reaction was the most telling.  He said DH had told him that story but left out the fact that I was on the bike, too.  I asked my husband why he omitted me from the story.  He said that at the moment it seemed like a good idea to go that fast but in retrospect it was a stupid thing to do.  He lied to his cousin, unbeknownst to me, about the speed because he knew if he told the truth, his cousin would think he was a reckless idiot who put his wife in needless danger.

Yesterday afternoon, I called my husband at work and asked him 1) what time he expected to be home? and 2) to please call me when he left work so I knew when to have dinner ready.  I was home around 5:30.  I didn't hear from him.  At 6:45, I decided to go ahead and prepare dinner and eat.  At 7:00 I called and he said he was a few minutes from leaving.  He didn't get home until 8:39.  The first words out of his mouth when he walked in the door were NOT, "I'm sorry."  I was devastated.  I felt completely used and dismissed and disrespected.  I made a nice meal and he couldn't even call to keep me posted at any point.  He just showed up.

This kind of behavior has been common since he started his new job.  This morning, he finally said the words - "I have a hard time calling you and telling you what time I'll be home because I feel like I'm on a leash."  I told him to think about the lease I'm on and if he wasn't willing to be simply decent, there was no point in continuing to live together as a married couple.  He said we'd talk about it tonight.

I am highly inclined to move out.  I can't continue to live with someone who doesn't care even a little to consider my feelings or my motivations.  This is where we are.

We have a se.con.d house about 15 miles from our existing home.  It sounds pompous, I know.  However, it does provide an opportunity for me to get out of the torture of being a foolish wife waiting like an idiot for her man to show up.

Please understand: I've told these stories truthfully not to elicit pity or even prayer (not that I would ever reject it, believe me) but to be able to get this off my chest.  Yes, I could privately journal and hell, I probably should have but I'd told you guys some of the challenges and thought it was fair to tell the rest.

Love is a Decision

I'll be on a blogging hiatus for a few weeks.  I'll catch everybody up when I return.  However, after such a dramatic, depressing last post, I owe ya'll a sunnier picture.

It didn't start out on a promising note.  Yesterday, on a drive together, we were discussing divorce terms.  The conversation reached a crescendo when my husband said, "I'm holding you back.  You are free to move to a big city, get an indoor cat, have a kid on your own terms."  

It all sounded so great.  My mood instantly lifted.  What he had said is everything I want.

But, then it made sense.  The Devil was firmly entrenched in my life.  I don't hear much about the Devil in the Catholic church.  Maybe it's just my parish community.  Maybe you talk about the Devil all the time.  But, I remember in my Protestant churches, we always talked about temptation in terms of the Devil beckoning us.

If I hadn't had the surge of happiness in the middle of these dark moods the past several weeks, I don't think I would have realized what was happening to me.  

I remembered back to our wedding when our favorite deacon read the gospel reading.  I personally had chosen it because I wanted my husband, my family, and everyone gathered to know that marriage was permanence to me.  The passage was Mark 10: 1-9.  This is actually titled the Divorce passage.  

And here I was on Sunday, May 18, 2013, after nearly a mere five years of marriage, I was practically giddy about divorce.  

There was some calm silence in the car.  As we approached our destination, I said to my husband, "So, we made some pretty dramatic statements.  What do we do now?"  He said, "I don't know."  And then more silence.  

Mercifully, my husband said, "If we are both willing to make this work, it will work."  Slowly coming to my senses, I replied, "I want to make this work."  He said calmly, "I do, too."

Now, this was just yesterday but we made significant progress in just trying to lighten the mood, focus on good stuff, be nice to each other, etc.  I'm praying God gives me enough strength in the coming weeks to refocus on doing what He wants me to do which is stay committed to this man, put aside selfish desires, and fulfill my ministry.  

Nothing is as sacred as we want it to be when it's real

I'll preface the following with: I've always been accused of being oversensitive.  Always.  I figured this character trait would fade over time but it seems not to.  I usually chalk it to being my unique self; the personality God Himself gave me.  But, it also causes me a great deal of heartache that misses most people that are more dismissive of wrongs.

My latest personal tragedy is a confluence of factors.

1. My newly married sister despite having said to my mother when she got married that they weren't going to have children ("they like their lifestyle the way it is") are currently going through their second round of IVF.  
2. I learned of the particulars of that situation how I usually do in my family, third hand.  My sister told our mother.  My husband asked my mother and my husband told me.
3. However, my sister did talk to me a couple of months ago about fertility testing and "how I had so many options if I just wanted to learn about them."  I told my sister that we were done with trying.  We'd tried a whole heck of a lot.  And I didn't want to discuss fertility treatments with her.  She sort of obliged.
4. My mother dispatched my father several months ago and my husband two weeks ago to "talk to ATC about getting her eggs frozen."  I was and am livid.  Not only does it display a complete ignorance from my mother, her continued non-support of me is chilling (no pun intended).

All of this crap came to a head two weeks ago when I stupidly invited my parents along with my husband to watch me play semi-competitive basketball.  While I played my heart out, my husband got into a discussion with my mother about the particulars of my sister's treatment.  This is where the story gets fuzzy because somebody is lying here.  And it's not just any average Joe.  It's either the woman who bore me or the man I pledged my life to.

My husband said my mother asked him why we don't do IVF.  My husband replied that ATC won't do IVF because she's afraid it would be painful.  I didn't hear this from my husband.  I heard it from my mother yesterday when I went to confront her about her comments about me.  My husband, early this morning admitted he made that statement.

What my husband said about me is a bold faced lie.  And it is extremely hurtful to me.  He knows the reasons why we don't do IVF and pain and fear have nothing to do with it.  But he is much more willing to shame me than take responsibility for his own beliefs.

My mother denied talking to my husband about freezing my eggs.  My husband maintains that she did and what sense does it make he would lie about that?  When one is dealing with multiple lies, it can be hard to sort out the truth.

The feeling of isolation yesterday afternoon after talking to my mother and husband was overwhelming.  To say I felt like I didn't belong anywhere cannot be overstated.  I told my husband early this morning I felt numb.

I often wonder if the others who chose and are facing a childless life have painful moments like this?  Do their parents implore them to violate their morals in the pursuit of "happiness"?  How does anyone tolerate this kind of treatment?

I asked my husband this morning if he wanted to stay married.  He said he did.  But then paused and said he wouldn't want to keep me in a marriage where I was miserable.

I'm mulling that over.  I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around a relationship where partnership is neither recognized nor publicly presented.  How much disloyalty can be tolerated?    

I stood up

The priest announced before the beginning of Mass that the Mother's Day blessing would come at the end.  I was still undecided what I would do however pretty much leaning towards joining the standing women.  And I stood up feeling very good about my decision.  It was a wonderful feeling having hands extended in blessing.  Why this special feeling would be denied to anyone is beyond me.  I and any other woman who has faithfully tried to conceive (along with a whole host of others) deserves to stand.

After Mass, an older pal was beaming at me.  Uh oh.  She said, "You stood up!  I didn't know you are...."  "I am not pregnant," I stated in a firm, steady voice.  She said something after that, that I couldn't make out but clearly she was confused and rightly so.  I put my arm around her and said, "It's a long story.  I'm happy to talk to you about it when we have more time."  And then I asked her if her kids (all grown) had called her to wish her a happy Mother's Day.

Outside the church, my husband expressed concern.  "I knew when you stood up it was going to unleash a lot of curiosity."  Actually, he said, "...a can of worms."  "What am I supposed to say to people?"  "I doubt anyone would ask but if they do, say that your wife is not pregnant and if that person is curious, I am more than happy to answer their questions."  He said he was OK with that.

DH and I went to Starbucks after that and talked.  "This is the beginning of taking infertility out of the shadows.  I am not ashamed."  We say in Retrouvaille that pain not shared is wasted pain.  This is hopefully a new beginning.

Late to the party

I was just at the dry cleaners going over some recent posts and I noticed that I missed some comments.  I know Leila has invited me to discuss personal matter with her over email and I might get there at some point but because this whole discussion started over the internets, I'd like to keep the discourse here.

I don't believe I personally attacked Leila.  The language I used to discuss her writings or the spirit of her blog could be considered snarky but I maintain that I did not attack her personally.  Given some of the comments on my blog, a few people thought I was wrong in wondering why she frequented infertile blogs.  I did not mean to question her relationship with anyone else.  I love it when bloggers get along. 

However, I write to follow an argument or support/oppose others' opinions and I disagreed with hers.  For my own edification, this is the chain of events:

1. California's Proposition 8 is defended in front of the US Supreme Court.
2. I discover the word "infertile" is uttered in the court room.  I'm intrigued.
3. I wander over to Leila's blog and find she posted an interview in USA Today with the Archbishop of San Francisco where he defends the Church's argument that procreation is the whole reason for marriage.  As someone who has not procreated but is married, I'm offended.
4. So, because I'm offended, I write a letter to the Archbishop where I argue my position on infertility in the gay marriage debate and post the letter on my blog.
5. Concurrently, I'm offended that Leila writes on her blog in reference to the interview with Cordileone, "How I wish I had the eloquence and intelligence of this kind and thoughtful man of God."
6. Because I don't think what he had to say was all that eloquent or intelligent and because it was offensive to infertiles/the childless, I'm upset that Leila (a supposed friend to the infertiles) offers no contrast or further insight to what the Archbishop said.

Further, in her comments in that post (and of course, feel free to correct me) Leila was the first person to invoke that infertility was caused by the Fall.  I see no connection whatsoever between the "gays can't get married because they can't procreate" argument and "Hey, infertiles, the Fall is the reason for your circumstance."

To me, the Fall comments were unnecessarily hurtful.  It's sort of death by a thousand cuts.  What else do fertiles have to offer me and others like me?
For those who have kept with me for a while, you'd notice that I'm happy to... well, I feel it's necessary as a thinking human being to challenge and debate.  You'll never see me post something about the Church and say that, "I have no words" or "This cardinal is just right on."  First, I always have the words.  And my blog is not a forum to repeat what the Church teaches.

I've said this many, many times but I'll say it again.  If you have not walked in my shoes, I don't think you have the right to say anything about infertility other than, "I'm sorry."  Everything else is pouring salt on the wound. 

"Despite... the years of sinning, Elizabeth is winning"

The title is pulled from a song by Matt Pond PA.  Incredible band.  Worth a look.  The lyric came to mind as a contrast to the argument that bad things happen to us because of sin/the Fall.  More on that later.

I feel forced to respond to Leila's comment in this post.  Hers is the second to last comment in the string.  I don't think any post of mine has generated so many comments and they're not brief.  Each one is an thoughtful essay and should stand on its own.

Leila said that I did not interpret her comment on her blog related to gay marriage and how infertiles fit in to that scenario correctly.  I stand to differ.  Here is the entire section of her comment I am referring to:

I want to speak to you as a fellow Christian now, as secular folks don't believe in the Fall of man. But you've often brought up the issue of elderly folks getting married. They can get married as long as they can physically partake in the salient act of marriage (conjugal love). The reason old folks cannot have children is for the same reason that infertile couples cannot: The Fall. Defect, aging, decay, disease. All from the Fall. 

 This is what I said:

And on Leila's blog she took the time to say that infertility was due to "the Fall."  And that meant that I was defective, diseased, old, decayed. 

And this is how she responded:

If you put a direct quote up, and in context, you would see that I never said that and never "meant" that. I am very careful about the words I use (although in comments, they can be rushed). Never would I say that an infertile woman was "defective, diseased, old and decayed"! Just never.  

Let's run through the logic, shall we?  Infertile couples cannot have children because of the Fall and defect, aging, decay, disease emanate from the Fall.  It follows that my husband and I are infertile and do not have children thus we are "an infertile couple."  Infertiles cannot have children because of the Fall and defect, aging, decay, and disease all come from the Fall.  Therefore, our infertility is caused by defect, aging, decay, and disease.  If as a sufferer of infertility, I can call myself an infertile woman, I am defective, diseased, old, decayed.

JoAnna did in a manner of speaking support my statement by saying:

A healthy female and a healthy male can and will procreate eventually if they time intercourse accordingly and all systems are working as they should. If they do not conceive within a year, then there is an unexplained disease or defect (nutritional deficiency, etc.) that is preventing one or both of their reproductive systems from functioning as intended (biologically). 

I really can't tell how the gay marriage debate and denying gays the right to marry based entirely on the notion of procreation morphed into explaining why infertiles are infertile: the Fall.  I'm siding with Joy Beyond the Cross and the Misfit in saying that the Fall offers me no comfort and it really makes absolutely no sense to bring up this topic in the context of gay marriage.  Why did we get stuck on this?  Was it to divert attention to the issue at hand which is the unfair targeting of infertiles in the argument against gay marriage?