Breaking the Silence

Figuring It Out One Day At a Time

Pamela Tsigdinos

Pamela Tsigdinos
Bay Area, California,
June 12
I'm left-handed, six feet tall, and I like broccoli but not cauliflower. I'm Michigander by birth, Californian by choice. Oh, yeah, and I'm infertile. There. I said it. Now you'll understand how living in an era of designer babies and helicopter parents served up loads of material for my book, Silent Sorority ( When I'm not working with startups in Silicon Valley, I am exploring ideas and write about some of society's norms. At the keyboard is where I am most relaxed. So join me here as I try to be less type A and maybe figure a few things out....

AUGUST 10, 2010 11:44PM

A Black Sheep Publishing Victory

Rate: 1 Flag

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing 

It was mid-afternoon in the Sierra Nevada Mountains when the email arrived.

Three loads of laundry were folded and tucked back into their rightful place. The kitchen floor glistened, still fresh from a serious mopping with Murphy's Oil Soap. Digital images stored in my computer held joy and wonder on my niece and nephew's face from a long weekend of mini golf, hikes and lake fun. The junior croquet set was stored in the garage. The marshmallows, carefully toasted over the Weber grill the night before for S'mores, were only a sticky memory. 

It was time for some indulgence, and I was ready to unwind from a weekend surrounded by parents unwittingly baiting me many times over with phrases ranging from "as a mom" to "she's a mom friend" or "it's great to get some dad golf in... "  Are parental modifiers now required by law? Maybe Mama Grizzly herself has an answer?

But, I digress. It was time for my massage. I glanced at my Blackberry as I walked briskly into the day spa, not wanting to be late for my appointment.  I stopped short though when the email subject line  came into focus: Team Choice RESOLVE Award.  My muscles tightened further, as if reaching for all new levels of knotty configuration.

(For those of you who don't know, RESOLVE is the National Infertility Association and I am a notorious infertile woman capable of bringing out the worst in online commenters as evidenced in this New York Times feature.)

As conditioned as I have become for negative outcomes, this time I saw the literary equivalent of two pink lines:

Dear Pamela,

On behalf of the RESOLVE Board of Directors and the entire RESOLVE family, I am pleased to inform you that Silent Sorority has been selected as the recipient of RESOLVE’s Team RESOLVE Choice Award for Best Book 2010. As you know, the 2010 Team RESOLVE Choice Award for Best Book was chosen by RESOLVE constituents all over the country. Nearly 2,000 people voted for the Team RESOLVE Choice Award nominees. We are thrilled your book was chosen.

You will be presented with this award at the Night of Hope on Tuesday, September 28, 2010 at Guastavino’s in New York City, NY. We are planning for a full house for this very special night."

Rewind with me to several years ago. Some of you were there with me reading along as I made progress in the wee, dark morning hours writing, editing and rewriting. How many sunrises and sunsets did I wonder if a book would ever emerge that anyone would care to read? The number of hours reliving and trying to make sense of our heartache and losses, and the balled up tissues filling the trash can, soaked from quiet sobs, are too numerous to count. And then it got worse.

Once I'd uncorked the emotions and put our experience down in words I found myself raw and tender all over again. As if adding insult to injury, a steady stream of rejections from agents and publishers arrived — sometimes hourly — in my inbox, pouring salt into a still fresh wound. The final agent rejection, after months of being strung along, hit me like a Mack truck:

"Fertility and infertility continue to be hot topics, but the subject is starting to feel well-trod, almost done to death..."

!!! So, the experience of having your heart ripped out still beating and stomped on by strangers and acquaintances alike while super-sized families get their own reality TV shows is apparently too Hannah Montana??

 The award I'll accept in New York next month is for the black sheep of the infertility community -- women who did not become mothers through the wonder of science. It's for those who have been dismissed without a thought, for those who have experienced searing heartache both in the light of day and when the lights are off, for those who know what it means to push ahead even when the future looks unfamiliar. This is also a victory for indie authors who have been told their manuscripts are too niche.

This is not an award in the conventional sense, it's a recognition that women like me exist. I never got the chance to send out birth announcements, or to relish a traditional book launch but I have an inbox chock full of emails that validate in a much deeper way:

"Your book  revealed our taboo lives and let us all know that we are not alone."

"Silent Sorority has given me a newfound strength in speaking out about my infertility, and I just wanted to say thanks. It is nice to know that there are 'more of us out there', and that someone if finally giving us a voice."

"I loved the book. I don't mind telling you that you have become a a role model to me."

Calling on all the blacksheep! Everyone, together now:

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down ...

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My sincere congratulations to you, Pamela. I hope you continue to speak out on behalf of those of us in that "Silent Sorority".

Well done!
Thanks, Jeanette! Much appreciated. The project was a true labor in every sense of a the word and it's now nice to get some love.
Thx for sharing your successes! Great inspiration on so many levels. Congratulations on your award. BB