Books

Last year, I read Everything Conceivable by Liza Mundy. This spring, I will be running a series of discussions about it. We have a half course on our campus which involves students reading several books over the course of the semester. Students select the books from a large number of choices, and they meet in small groups for a few weeks with the professor teaching their particular book and then write a paper. Some books are novels, others are collections of essays and still others are nonfiction. A question from a colleague last week reminded me to drop a note to the coordinator and I said I was interested in doing this book at some time in the future. She wrote back immediately and said she still had a slot left for Spring and had put me in. I was thinking next Fall or Spring, but it is too late now.

The last time I participated in the course, I decided to do Kim Stanley Robinson's The Years of Rice and Salt without having read it. Two colleagues I know have chosen to read the books for the first time with the students, so they all discover the book together. I thought this was an interesting idea, so I decided to do the same. I chose The Years of Rice and Salt because I really like Kim Stanley Robinson and because was on my "to be read" list for a long time. Only problem: I thought it was an alternative history but it was actually about Buddhism. Which I knew nothing about. I enjoyed the book and the discussions with the students, but I was expecting something different. I didn't do a particularly good job running the discussions either, something I hope to correct.

In any case, I have read the book this time around. I thought Mundy's book would be an interesting one for discussion because I get the impression our 18-22 year olds know very little about assisted reproduction and many of the topics invoke strong opinions. Additionally, they way Mundy organizes the topics into somewhat self-contained chapters will fit in easily with the course format. As for the book itself, I found it to be a very easy and interesting read. I didn't really learn much more about how assisted reproduction works beyond what I already knew, but she seems to give a relatively straightforward introduction. Mundy also had some observations about ethical issues that I had not considered, so I found the book interesting in that sense.

I'm excited about participating in this course again, but am wondering how to handle controversial topics. I have run discussions on controversial topics in class, but they are usually on topics like "should we build more nuclear power plants" and not on, say, selective reduction. The sections consist of only about 4 students, so I'm especially concerned about keeping things constructive. Any suggestions?

A conversation

A quick check in about the current age of my twins led to the following conversation between the two women sitting in front of me at graduation:

Professor A: My nephew and his wife are having triplets.

Professor B: Wow, triplets! And she wasn't on any medication?

Professor A: Well, I really don't know one way or the other.

Professor B: Oh, I see, so she could have been.

Professor A: Well, she's 29, so probably not.

Professor B: Ah yes.

Aside from wondering why this question is often the first question people ask about multiples, and wanting to tell them how annoying such questions are to mothers of multiples regardless of whether their conceptions were assisted or not, I wanted to yell at them about assuming infertility is all about a woman's age. But alas, my attempts to break into the conversation where thwarted.

Oh yeah, and Professor A? She's a nurse.

Another one

The other day, a worker at the kids daycare asked if we were planning to have any more.

I'm forty, so it is now or never.

So, we're thinking, probably never.

(Don't worry, I know the window of time is diminishing at an astronomical pace, and even if we did decide to go forward right now, there would be no guarantees.)

It is a complicated issue. We always said two, even before we were together.

Once we were together, the picture was even clearer, with only the little hiccup of anovulation to worry about. I gave H the number run down: This is my fertility issue, so first we try Clomid, it has an X% chance of working and if it works, a 10% chance of twins and and Y% chance of multiples where n>2. (At the time, I knew the numbers) Then, if that doesn't work, we go on to Pergonal, which for this situation, has a Z% blah blah blah. Full disclosure. We joked about twins, and "getting it all done at once." In fact, any time we imagined our future family, it was us and a set of boy-girl twins.

So, one could argue, we have the family we always dreamed of. So, what is the problem?

Even more puzzling, right before we started trying, I suggested we could consider stopping at one.

So why the ambivalence about stopping at two?

I think there are a few reasons. The first is that incredibly heady feeling of looking at these creatures and thinking, "Wow, we made those!" (I know that is a totally cheesy thing everyone says.) But it really does blow my mind, on a molecular and probabilistic level as well as a psychological one. Biochemistry just works - somehow putting all those molecules together to grow a baby. And, if I had not rushed back from that conference, making my colleague skip a meeting, it may not have worked that month. Indeed, we may have conceived a different set of twins on a different month, or a singleton, or even triplets. The ability to open up this set of possibilities again is enticing.

Another reason is not having the birthing or nursing experience that I wanted. (I'll write about this some other time.) I keep reminding myself this is not a good reason to have another child. Nor is the fact that I like the idea of using all the information I've acquired about pregnancy, birth and newborns again.

There are the other positives of course - the joy and amazement of watching a baby turn into an actual kid, Curie and Dalton having a little brother, having no regrets.

This last part is perhaps the crux of it. I am annoyed this decision can't be revisited later. In a really short period of time, my eggs will have had their day, and that, as they say, is that. It seems unfair that this is the case for women, but not for men. I object to the idea that the universe has put me in this position. If we had only had one the first time, I think we would have absolutely tried for a second by now. But given that we already have two, another seems frivolous. Not to mention tempting fate again - the chance of having a second set of twins is not insignificant.

Many of the cons about having another child are obvious: sleep deprivation, daycare $$$, less time, stretched resources, having to purchase a vehicle that will hold three (or more, gasp) carseats, age-related concerns and the like.

However, for me, I think the biggest drawback is starting all over again. We've made so much headway: We may have finally bought our last package of diapers. Dr. H and I often get enough sleep. We are starting to be more productive at work again. We even occasionally have a chance to talk and laugh about things which are not logistical in nature.

My dean, herself a mother of two, said to me "you won't believe what a difference it makes to your life transitioning from preschoolers to having kids over five" A former colleague and I had an opportunity to have lunch and catch up last week. He's a very involved father of three. "You are entering the best phase - the next eight years are the best part."

I really can't see hitting the reset button and heading back to level one, especially when we are four years in and on the verge of being in the zone.

.....

Hat tips to two academic bloggers who inspired me to write about my thoughts on this: Addy N. expecting her second child after a long break following her first, and Trillwing considering whether or not to stop at one.

Super

Once again, I found myself woefully unprepared for having a working reproductive system. I figure I can get by for a day or so on what I have in stock. This turns out to be more difficult than expected.

My wonderful husband offers to go to the store for me to purchase more, um, effective supplies than those I have on hand. My response?

There is NO WAY I am sending you to the store for this right now. The guy in the store will take one look at you, buying super plus tampons at 2 AM, and will be like "Dude, your life sucks."

Warning: Possibly TMI

In attempting to pack lightly for this trip, I thought "Really, what are the chances that I will have my first spontaneous period since 2000 in the next four days?"

You see where this is going.


On the plus side, this means my thyroid levels may finally be correct.