On my Anonymity (or lack thereof)

You've probably noticed that I don't go to great lengths to protect my identity. I mean, I try not to drag my husband and foster son into things too often, but as far as my own identity is concerned, my blog is pretty transparent. If anyone who knew me stumbled across my blog, it wouldn't take long to figure out they knew me. And while I'd prefer not to know that my friends outside the computer are reading this particular blog, I can live with it. Come to think of it... maybe you hadn't noticed. Whatever. I'm still going to write about my lack of anonymity, like it or not. It's my blog; you don't have to read it.

RIGHT. Anyway, this post is prompted because a blog that I recently found (and have read much of the archives of, but have only just started commenting on) just went underground. And the one thing I really hate about Typepad is that if you password protect your blog, there's no front page. Just a prompt for password and an error page if you fail to log in properly. There's no place to leave a comment or anything to say "hey, I really liked your blog. I'm sorry you decided you needed to go underground. Good luck and stuff." So basically... the blog just went *poof* to me, and this frustrates me. I completely respect people's need to keep their identity closed tight. I do. Really. And it's certainly not MY place to say what other people should do. It's just I've never really felt a need for that much secrecy.

True, I'm much more open about the specifics of my cycles and treatment here inside the computer than I am in real life. It is also true that I'd really rather my "real-life" friends not know exactly when I'm POAS or going for a wanding appointment at the RE's. I'd rather my friends NOT know when "that time of the month" is, or when each and every disappointment happens. I'd prefer they continue thinking I'm a relatively stable human being, while you, my friends inside the computer, know the truth is that I'm a complete nutjob in need of serious therapy, but too far in denial to bother.

Still, I won't be password-protecting my blog anytime soon. Nor will I stop using my real name, or location. And I won't always use pseudonyms like "Dr. Amazing." I slip and say "Dr. Levy" all the time. I'm also obviously quite transparent about which clinic I go to... it's not a big stretch to figure out where "Shady Hell" really is. (Actually, I didn't start calling it Shady Hell for purposes of anonymity... I did that because it's my own little slice of hell) At any rate, the fundamental reason why I don't go to greater lengths to protect my anonymity? Basically, I'm lazy. It's too hard for me to remember what I've nicknamed all the doctors, or the clinic, or my husband or cats (oops, that was a clue! You might figure out who I am with that little tidbit thrown in!), or anything, really. I've never been a good liar, because I really can't keep my stories straight unless they're... well, you know, the truth. Beyond that, well, there are other reasons, but that's the heart of the matter. I'm a fundamentally lazy person. And a bad liar, too.

The rest of the reason is really that I don't know that we infertiles really do ourselves any service by staying in the closet. True, I have no interest in my friends from shul or PTA or whatever having any clue when I'm going in for Day 3 ultrasounds, because, well, yuck! But I don't even try to hide the fact that I'm a member of that exclusive infertility club. I gave up on that long ago. It hasn't made the stupid comments any easier or any less frequent. It hasn't meant anyone has any great sensitivity for my plight. None of that, really. But it has meant I don't have to pretend to be someone (and something) I'm not. And it's meant I don't have to be ashamed of who I am.

There's a woman in my community who recently celebrated her 5th wedding anniversary. She and her husband have no children. In the Orthodox Jewish world, this isn't terribly common. She and her husband tend toward the very modern side of Orthodoxy, they are both successful attorneys, and I believe both baal teshuva (meaning they didn't grow up as Orthodox... neither did I). As a result, there's been a bit of snickering behind their backs for a couple years. Some comments are sympathetic and pondering whether maybe they have a "problem" that they can get "taken care of" since it worked so well for my friend who has twins from IVF and is now pregnant again (whoops! she wasn't expecting that!). Others are snarky. "I bet they're using birth control." "Someone should tell her that putting her career first could backfire... she's not getting any younger, you know." I don't know her that well, and I certainly wasn't going to pry. I said nothing. But we were recently at the park together and she mentioned that they were "trying the in vitro again" as though I'd always known they were doing IVF. I mean, okay, yeah, I figured they were. But you know what? Good for her for being that open about it. And we compared clinic notes and had a good laugh. This is one of the reasons that I don't really mind that people know that we're struggling with infertility. At least people know. And at least I'm not ashamed to compare notes with a friend in the park. I've definitely found more support in being out of the closet than I ever found staying in the closet.

So I won't be going underground. I won't be trying harder to hide my identity. Frankly, I'm not that interesting, and far more interesting infertility blogs pop up on google searches than mine, so I don't live in fear that someone will come across mine accidentally. And if they do? Good for them. And if they get more information than they wanted? Well, they didn't have to read it, did they?

And now, I'm going to crawl back into bed for a little while. Oh wait, I can't. I've got to get J into PJs and try to convince him that bedtime isn't JUST for wussies.