Welcome to my blog,
(which is no longer in chronological order.)

It’s not all about friendship and hard times. There’s a '“Fun” category, humor being essential to joy, and my favorite to write, “Reflections.” Comment and contribute!

When You Have a Baby, and Your Friend Doesn’t
Infertility Mary Cail Infertility Mary Cail

When You Have a Baby, and Your Friend Doesn’t

New parents are understandably smitten with their offspring and overwhelmed by the responsibilities of caring for a dependent, helpless, miraculous being. Life has been changed forever, mainly in a wonderful way.  A baby fills a parent’s time and thoughts so completely, there is little else to talk about, and adds—as one of my friends put it after the birth of her first baby—a whole new dimension of love to your life. You want to share the experience with your friends. Most of these friends can relate because they are themselves parents.

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“I’m pregnant!” How to Tell a Friend Who’s Struggling with Infertility
Infertility Mary Cail Infertility Mary Cail

“I’m pregnant!” How to Tell a Friend Who’s Struggling with Infertility

One of my best friends met someone on a blind date, courted for a year or so, married, bought and remodeled a house, got pregnant (twice) and gave birth (twice), all while I plodded, month after month, through more than 60 months of infertility treatments. When you’re in the throes of infertility, you live in fear of yet another friend’s pregnancy. Not only will you feel your own lack more sharply, you realize a valued relationship—based, as friendships are, on common ground—will inevitably be strained. You are now in different worlds. You want to share this extraordinary time in your friend’s life, but you can’t bear to talk about the heartbeat, the baby kicking, the birth and those first messy attempts with applesauce. 

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Miscarriage: What Not to Say
Infertility, Instagram Mary Cail Infertility, Instagram Mary Cail

Miscarriage: What Not to Say

I miscarried my only pregnancy when I was 41 and finally pregnant, after five years of humiliating, sometimes painful, questionably dangerous and always expensive infertility treatments. For the IVF that resulted in this pregnancy, my husband and I had flown to a clinic 3000 miles from home, and his sperm were mechanically injected into my eggs to make five viable embryos, each dividing like perfect soap bubbles in a petri dish.

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