- Tragic Optimist: A librarian takes on infertility, parenting, gardening, food, and anything else that comes my way
- Little Four Eyes: Talking about young kids and glasses and vision problems
- Ann the Librarian: (no longer updated, merged with Tragic Optimist) Adventures in too much information
About the Tragic Optimist
It turns out that for us, there is life after infertility, and her name, fittingly enough, is Zoe. This blog was started when I became pregnant after 2 years of trying, and many medical interventions. The best summary of those 2 years is probably this post. We have since had a second daughter, Hazel, born almost 4 years to the day after her sister. We have no plans to have more children. This blog is now mostly devoted to thoughts about my life, gardening, parenting, with some thoughts on what it means to parent after infertility.
Little Four Eyes: Zoe was diagnosed with accommodative esotropia, that is crossed-eyes due to being farsighted, at 9 months. She has been wearing glasses since the end of 2007. I did my librarian obsessive searching for information for parents of toddlers with glasses, and came up with very little that was not specifically medical in nature or geared towards older kids. I just wanted a way to talk about the day to day challenges and joys of parenting a young kid with expensive, breakable gear on their faces. So I started the Little Four Eyes blog as a way to connect with others who have young children with glasses or other vision problems, and as a way to get information out there for other parents going through the same thing.
Why “Tragic Optimist”?
I have a comic strip, clipped from the paper, from years ago in which a boy is talking with his friend. His friend asks if he’s done his homework. No, he replies, but maybe that’s ok, maybe it was all just a test to see if he really is independent and willing to think for himself, and if so, he’s just passed that test and bound to get an A. “You really are a tragic optimist, aren’t you?” replies his friend. The concept of one so optimistic as to border on tragic really struck home with me. Later, as we battled with infertility, it seemed even more apropos. So many months, even when I wasn’t ovulating on my own, I would take my temperature, see a slight rise, and start to calculate – if that was ovulation, and I did get pregnant, when would I get a positive test? And when would I tell my supervisor at work? When would I be due, and what kinds of clothes would we have to buy for the baby? . . . You get the idea. A tragic dose of optimism is still tragic.