While at coffee this weekend with a group of highly intelligent, kick-ass women including the author, M, I brought up the topic she raised in a post called "On Awareness," relating the idea to Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day which takes place each year on October 15th.

In 1988, Ronald Reagan declared October "Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month" and through the work of multiple individuals and organizations, October 15th has been set as a day of remembrance, with each person lighting a candle at 7 p.m. to burn for an hour, creating a wave of light that crosses the globe in memory of children who have died in utero or shortly after birth.

And I think the convergence of this day of remembrance occurring in this month of awareness has led to all sorts of problems. Namely, no one knows whether the day is there to raise awareness or if it is a community building event meant for group support, and while these two things are not mutually exclusive, without a concrete idea behind the act, I think those who have not made the day their own find themselves foundering a bit in the face of numerous posts that pop up in the blogosphere each October 15th.

I saw some gorgeous posts on the topic. The one that stands out in my mind was by Bagmomma, who points out the fact that "I've blogged on this day over the years, and each time I do... I feel emptiness reflecting back on such sorrow." Like others, I lit a candle as I do every year, and spoke to the twins about infertility and loss. It is simply part of our family, a ritual and knowledge as established as eating matzah on Pesach or putting your shoes away when you walk in the house.

In some of the posts, people referred to it as a remembrance day and in others, people referred to it as an awareness day. Again, it goes back to the fact that the meaning behind the day isn't exactly clear. Is it to let others know about our losses? To light the candle in secret? If we post about it on a blog, are we possibly educating another person? Or do we not want outsiders to read about it and ask about it?

Is it remembrance or awareness?

Which brings us to M's post about awareness. M, a cancer survivor and infertile woman, starts out her post with a valid question about breast cancer awareness month: "is there anyone out there un-aware of the dangers?" And she ends with a frank question: "where is the line between "awareness" and simply "being an asshole?" Because how we talk about infertility and pregnancy loss does matter.

You will need to click over to read M's article to understand her point about taking awareness in negative directions, but I wanted to examine an idea she broaches within her post. She links to an old Barbara Ehrenreich article (the author of Nickel and Dimed and more recently, Bright-Sided) called "Welcome to Cancerland" that dissects the help and harm provided by the breast cancer awareness movement.

M quotes one of Ehrenreich's most jarring statements which is that the pink ribbons, three-day walks and collective breast cancer awareness activities makes "it, perversely, as a positive and enviable experience."

I didn't take this statement to mean that breast cancer in and of itself is enviable, but that the support is enviable.

It is enviable when you consider how much the general public is in the dark when it comes to infertility and pregnancy loss. Wouldn't many more of us gladly and openly wear pomegranate strings if it would make other people approach discussions with empathy? If we could be open with employers about fertility treatments or adoption and be given time off to pursue them? If having the visual reminder worn on our wrist would help human resource teams choose insurance plans with infertility benefits or provide adoption benefits as a company? Wouldn't you wear a visual reminder about your disease openly and frankly in exchange for accurate language and ideas conveyed in New York Times articles?

(The best quote of the coffee date came from Two Hot Mamas when I mentioned that the average person can comprehend the term transfer because we're familiar with it via banking, whereas N quipped something along the lines of "you get breast implants and boom, boobies!" Because what does the general public know about the term implant beyond new breasts? They think just as people get new ta-tas once they slip in their implants, they get a baby once they throw back in that embryo with IVF. And it just doesn't work that way.)

Pink made it okay to talk about breast cancer. Which is a good thing. It removes isolation and promotes understanding. Hopefully, awareness makes people think before they say hurtful things, makes employers more flexible, family and friends more supportive. At least, that's what I hope because if that's not the case, then there isn't really a lot of point to awareness. Knowing the underlying causes to breast cancer and doing self-breast exams? I think the general public has that under their belts by now (and frankly, with too many people diagnosed yearly who are not engaging in high-risk behaviour and--beyond self-breast exams--tumours misdiagnosed by doctors, I don't know if that sort of awareness is the best place to devote time and energy anymore).

M and Ehrenreich point out an uncomfortable fact: when pink is slapped on everything in the name of cancer awareness, it smells a bit of businesses using a disease in order to gain brand loyalty (believe me, once I learned about Barilla's adoption benefits that not only provide financial coverage but also time off from work for family building, I have never bought another pasta. They grabbed my loyalty by having a company policy that speaks to what is important to me. And while there was nothing nefarious about this and only good, if Barilla started making a pomegranate pasta, promising to send part of the money to Resolve, well, it would make me feel a little bit yucky even though I like the idea of Resolve receiving the support). We feel good when we see that a make-up company has come out with a pink case. We pick the bag of pink M&Ms over the plain ones. We try to win a pink Dyson.

All of that feels a bit like awareness for awareness sake. Yes, money is usually given towards research and that is a good thing, but really, those companies could make the donation without involving us. In making things pink, they're including us in the awareness side of it and taking credit for their good work.

But really, what is the point of that awareness if it doesn't jog your memory about actual people in your life or your community? I mean, how many times have you seen a pink ribbon and thought of a useful call to action; as in, hey, right now, I could go bring dinner for my friend who has breast cancer? See, a small useful thing you could do tonight that would actively make a difference in another person's life. That pink ribbon should be a reminder--that very real people have this disease and could use your time and capable hands.

It's great to donate to large organizations that are helping fund cancer research, but what about reaching out to people in your community who are experiencing the disease? How many times have you reached out with help, sat down and lent a willing ear to hear a vent, run errands for them, asked how they are and wanted to hear the long answer, kept them company in chemotherapy? Giving money feels like we've done something. It makes us feel good, as if we're fighting back against an entity--breast cancer. But figuratively sticking our hands into the mess by getting involved, looking cancer right in the face in someone we love? That is hard. That is really really damn hard.

Perhaps it comes down to the fact that infertility advocates shouldn't repeat what breast cancer advocates have done in presenting the image of the shining, happy faces doing the Avon walk or the cuddly pink teddy bears. That we should eschew the cheering sisterhood for more of a tone of a friend sitting down next to you on the sofa, holding your hand and saying, "I have something really important I need to tell you."

That the image of women triumphantly crossing the finish line at the end of the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer doesn't convey what breast cancer is actually like--that the majority of the time isn't the glow of victory, but instead the cold fear of mortality. But would that grab the public's attention, make them want to become aware? We are all suckers for the happy ending. We like to see the sick character become well by the end of the film and if they die, we want redemption to come for those still living.

When I complain about the media coverage out there, I often ask why they don't do newspaper stories about the vast majority of us who experience infertility, go through a lot of shit, and build our family, without anything extraordinary happening? We devote pages and pages of newsprint to Nadya Suleman and the Savage's botched embryo transfer and Kate Gosselin's sextuplets. Where are the stories of the average family? The one who cried their way through treatments and exited out the other side with a singleton?

But when considering it through this lens, is that the awareness I really want put out there? The victory at the end of the finish line? Because that wasn't really my infertility experience. It was only a small part. I want people to understand why I came to work looking like I had spent hours the night before lying on my bathroom floor crying. Well, it was because I had spent hours the night before lying on my bathroom floor crying (or, more accurately, I usually curled up in the dry bathtub). I want people to know that I became depressed. That I couldn't escape it even for a few hours because cycles were happening in my body, that babies were everywhere outside my body. That infertility was humiliating and scary and painful and expensive and made me lose myself sometimes. And then there were the good sides too--the friendships and education and empowerment I felt the first time I gave myself an injection.

Awareness is not action. I can be aware that a car accident has just occurred without pulling over my own car to help the injured. Awareness is, for the most part, a very passive position of being educated with the focus being on the intake of ideas, not the output of action.

Therefore, I don't want Infertility Awareness. I want some Infertility Action. I want take-your-insensitive-coworker-to-the-clinic day. I want every American to receive the bills we received to build our family.

I don't want more people to experience infertility or loss because frankly, 7.3 million Americans is an impossibly large number. That's 1 in 8 people of child-bearing age. 12.5 % of the child-bearing age population. I don't want people to experience what I experienced.

I just want them to have the same empathy towards my disease as they bring to other diseases out there. If they value their family, I want them to emotionally support me as I work to build mine. And just as they don't pass judgment on one person's usage of chemotherapy over another person's usage of surgery to treat the same illness, I don't want judgment passed over my decision to use one treatment over another nor do I want the input of outsiders such as "why don't you just adopt" hurled my way. Because just as cancer treatment should be a decision made between a doctor and patient, infertility treatment should be a decision made between a doctor and patient and family building decisions should be made solely by the person or couple.

Unless, of course, we'd all love a little input from others as to how we should build our families?

I'm sure that next October 15th, I will light a candle again. It feels right to remember those who aren't here right now. But I also hope there will be a little more Infertility Action next October. Less looking inward with remembrance. Less passive knowledge with awareness. More kicking infertility's ass while bringing more empathy into this world with action.

The revolution may not be televised, but it hopefully will be blogged. Go out there and use your words for change.

Melissa is the author of the infertility and pregnancy loss blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. She keeps a categorized blogroll of over 2000 infertility blogs and writes the daily Lost and Found and Connections Abound, a news source for the infertility blogosphere. Her infertility book, Navigating the Land of If, is currently on bookshelves (May, 2009).

The comments were written by a broad audience of those with or without children and in both cases, due to a plethora of reasons ranging from choice to circumstance. There were differing opinions, though everyone stated their thoughts respectfully, taking into account the idea that everyone's circumspection needs to extend as far as the next person reading their words. It can't stop at a halfway point, only creating a bubble of thoughtfulness towards those like-minded. It needs to extend to every possible reader, who doesn't need to agree, but needs to be able to walk away unoffended.

The original post that everyone used as a jumping point to their own words took the opposite approach, with the author stating within her apology "Did I know I’d get a rise out of people? Yes. And yes, I was taking a jab at the child-free." The original post received over one hundred comments--an anomaly for the Orlando Sentinel blog posts which tend to get under 10 comments per post (and most receive one or none) and those comments were as vitriol-laced and angry as the original post.

And the obvious answer is that thoughtfulness begets thoughtfulness and thoughtlessness begets thoughtlessness. Laurie at BlogHer presented her reaction to the original post with thoughtful circumspection and in turn, commenters took her lead and added their own respectful ideas. Kim Hays wrote the original post trying to anger others and in turn, commenters came at her with anger. And it wasn't just an angry reaction from the group she intended to hurt. Her anger created anger in others as her commenters took the lead of the writer and spoke with the same disrespectful tone with which she used on her potential readers.

The idea of how do we communicate what is important to us without offending others has come into discussion in regards to IComLeavWe. The project attracts a lot of infertility bloggers because it started within our community, but it has since expanded to include bloggers in all areas of the blogosphere and participation is open and encouraged for all regardless of blog topic. The very point is to open dialogue between communities.

Participants enter their blog on a list and describe their blog in three words to give readers a heads up before they click over. Participants then read and comment on a wide cross-section of blogs from adoption-focused to political-in-nature. And while the project celebrates the almighty comment and the interactive and conversational nature of blogging, it also is meant to mix people who might not otherwise meet. Think of it as an online version of the BlogHer conference, where you leave your corner of the blogosphere and meet hundreds of other types of blogger whose corners of the blogosphere might be wholly unfamiliar to you.

The point of IComLeavWe is not just to read about a life that might be incredibly different from your own with the person making very different life decisions, but to also respect and respond to their words. To not just read and click away, but to leave a comment. This works better, as you can imagine, sometimes more than others.

But how far can we take circumspection with a vast and varied Internet--especially within blogs where the writer usually doesn't know all the readers who may encounter the post? The larger the audience--as is the case with a large readership such as BlogHer--the more chance there is to offend because the audience will not all be focused on the same like-minded topic as they do on smaller, themed blogs.

A lot can be learned by examining the two posts and learning not only how to be a better blog writer, but a better blog reader and commenter.

(1) Be concise and clear. The reader isn't inside the author's head and therefore if it's not stated outright, the reader doesn't know the information. Don't assume your reader has read a post--link to it. Don't assume they follow the same people on twitter. And don't make the mistake the original author did when she aimed her post at everyone without children by using vague language. Her apology stated that she meant her original post to be directed at those who are child-free who have attacked her decision to have children. But in leaving her post as an open message to all people without children, she inadvertently hurt everyone who is not a parent. In fact, in her apology, she continues to state that "I (still) do believe that there are certain intangible benefits to being a parent that people without children will never be able to comprehend" still directing her message to all people without children rather than the ones she meant to target.

(2) Be polite. Keep the same level of politeness in the online world as you would in the face-to-face world. People can argue and disagree without being cruel. However you comport yourself as you move though your day extend to your interactions online. Before you hit publish on a post or comment, ask yourself if you would say the same things if you had to look the person in the face and speak the words.

(3) Give details. One of the inherent problems with the original article is that she states that she is responding to cruelty thrown her way without actually stating concrete situations that the reader can use as a lens through which to see her words. Without knowing the circumstances that kicked off the post, the reader is left to decide whether or not the voice is trustworthy enough to follow, and 9 times out of 10, when someone is being vague without reason (the exception being when a person is forthcoming and states they needed to keep it vague to protect another person's identity), their words come across as hollow, without substance.

(4) Respond to the words on the page, not what you believe was the author's or commenter's intention. The only facts the reader has to work with are those that are on the screen. As a commenter, do not use the comment box to spout your own personal message but instead use the post as part of a conversation. We all bring with us our life experiences when we read a post, but when I read something on a topic near and dear to my heart, I don't bring in aspects of the argument that were not contained in the post. In kind, as a writer, be clear about your intentions. As an example, unless otherwise contained in the post, if a writer is speaking critically about the Duggars, they are speaking about the Duggars and not all large families. Therefore, the comments should be about the criticism of the Duggars and not about how the commenter feels offended that the author doesn't support all large families.

(5) Stay away from blanket statements and referring to broad groups of people (either positively or negatively). I think the best comments on the BlogHer post came when people didn't make blanket statements about everyone in a situation but instead had the person speak of their own personal experience and state that they understand that a single experience does not stand in place for a whole group.

(6) If you're not prepared to be open-minded and see the world from a different angle, stay away from the interactive medium of blogs that day. There are days when I just don't want to consider anyone else's life but my own. And those are the days when I don't open Google Reader or surf the Web. I read books, watch television, and do a host of activities that do not have an interactive nature to them. Reading blogs is not a daily requirement like a vitamin--it's okay to skip them if you're not in the right mood.

A roundup of my favourite posts that stemmed from this Internet discussion:

The Butter Compartment: a child-free blogger explains the conflation of reasons that led her to her decision as well as the pressure there is not just as a woman, but as a woman with Type-1 diabetes and the assumptions others make about some underlying statement through her choices.

A Fifth Season: a post that explains why compassion is not as easy as it looks, especially when "The desire to be right, I'm convinced, is an obstacle to being compassionate."

Still Life with Circles: amongst other topics, a post about the intentions behind our words.

I encourage anyone who is looking to expand their way of viewing the world, reach out to new readers who may not have known about your blog otherwise, and those who celebrate the comment as having just as much importance as the blog post to join in the next IComLeavWe.

Melissa is the author of the infertility and pregnancy loss blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. She keeps a categorized blogroll of almost 2000 infertility blogs and writes the daily Lost and Found and Connections Abound, a news source for the infertility blogosphere. Her infertility book, Navigating the Land of If, is currently on bookshelves (May, 2009). She is the keeper of the IComLeavWe (International Comment Leaving Week) list which is currently open for September.