Naomi Campbell: supermodel, phone thrower, jetsetter...and stirrup queen? News sources are buzzing with Naomi Campbell's battle with infertility, struggle with infertility, and renewed fertility. But it sort of begs the question: if an infertile woman is not actively trying to get pregnant, is she battling infertility?

Finally! One of the most pressing questions in my life - how on earth did a committed socialist like me end up married to a capitalist finance professional?

Today many American Moms will be lavished with homemade noodle art, fingerpaintings and clay-pots with a plant we hope not to kill before the 4th of July. Some are served breakfast in bed, which may or may not actually resemble food. There are some Moms who will choose to sleep in and spend the day pampering themselves on this, the Day that Celebrates Mothers. Others will choose- or be chosen to- spend the day with their children doing whatever activities her children have chosen for the day. There is no right or wrong way to celebrate Mother's Day. To every woman out there who is blissfully celebrating Motherhood, I raise my morning coffee cup (made by my son) to you and salute you. You have one of the hardest jobs in the world. And without monetary compensation. (But if you could get paid, what would you earn? Here is a fun Mom's Salary Wizard that will help you figure it out right down to what you would earn locally. It was fun. But I still don't see anyone cutting me a check.)

I was 21 years old when I gave birth to my stillborn son Jacob. While my friends were out clubbing, I was home grieving. I grew up much faster than I wanted to in a way that I would not wish on anyone. Ever. It was 16 years ago. At that time in a smallish college town, the nursing staff didn't quite know how to handle me or what exactly to say. The extent of "reaching out" was giving me a pamphlet to read "when I felt up to it" and was ready. The first words out of my nurse's mouth when I delivered were, "Oh my goodness! He is so small. Are you sure you want to really see him?" She said it with horror in her voice.

Several press releases later and the world is no closer to learning the truth behind Aliza Shvarts's senior project but frankly, it only holds my interest by this point as a jumping board to discussing terminology. Regardless of what she intended to do, she never had a miscarriage.

It's an easy parallel to draw especially since many times the two situations intertwine: trying-to-conceive bears many similarities to trying-to-partner. In both cases, we believe the timing is within our control until we discover that life has its own timetable. We can put in hours and hours of hope and hard work and have nothing to show for it on the other end. It may be the thing we want most, but the only aspect of our life that is completely out of reach. Both situations can move like a roller coaster once the tame ride picks up steam after the first twist or drop.

I wasn't going to blog about Thomas Beatie, the pregnant man, even though his story touches on so many aspects of infertility--a wife with endometriosis and a hysterectomy, donor insemination, assisted conception. Even as all of the other bloggers tackled the topic, I sat back thinking: where is the story? Two people want to add to their family and they do so. The end. But the convergence of Pesach cleaning and citrus fruit made me think about how this story is the new orange on the seder plate.

It's incredible how much my life mirrors J Lo's. Every magazine I open, every celebrity blog out there is desperate to know if I used fertility treatments to conceive my twins. Some people say I brought it on myself by always playing coy and doing my whole "look at me! Don't look at me!" thing. Maybe I did, but now that I'm holding these two little 3 1/2 year old nuggets of love, I am ready to invite you into my townhouse and take a small peek into the chaotic and wonderful life of just your-average-celebrity mum.

It's got drama (will the embryos make it to blast?), it's got comedy (giving yourself an injection in a cramped bathroom stall is hilarious!), it's got plotline and conflict and all the other things that make a writer salivate. It's infertility and it's coming to a big and small screen near you.

In addition to death and taxes, you can add financial burden to the list of things certain in the life of someone with infertility. Even those with insurance coverage live in fear of reaching the cap and often need to fight for compensation regardless. Rachel at Henry Street is a case in point. She was recently denied coverage in her mandated state because regardless of the numerous miscarriages, failed IVF cycles, and balanced translocation diagnosis, they are not considered infertile by the state's definition.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the hope before the storm, it was the tears fought back before the fall, it was after a three-day transfer, it was during a natural cycle, it was the whiteness of the pantiliner, it was the fear of seeing red, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going directly to parenthood, we were all going directly the other way - in short, the moments before the period was so far like every other moment before the period, that some of its noisiest authorities i

The excellent Suzanne Reisman kicked off the Letter to My Body project and now I get to carry the torch forward and invite you to write a letter to your body while reflecting backwards on the letters that have already been written.