Waiting for Daisy: A Tale of Two Continents, Three Religions, Five Infertility Doctors, an Oscar, an Atomic Bomb, a Romantic Night and One Woman's Quest to Become a Mother (Hardcover)

by Peggy Orenstein (Author)

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly
The author of Schoolgirls: Young Women, Self-Esteem, and the Confidence Gap, Orenstein now offers a very personal account of her road to becoming a mother. Orenstein was a happily married 35-year-old when she decided she wanted to have a baby. While she knew it might not be easy (she had only one ovary and was heading into her late 30s), she had no idea of the troubles she'd face. First, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, fortunately treatable. After waiting the recommended recovery period, she miscarried with a dangerous "partial molar pregnancy," so she had to avoid becoming pregnant for at least six months. Soon she was riding the infertility roller coaster full-time, trying everything from acupuncture to IVF and egg donation. She endured depression and more miscarriages while spending untold thousands of dollars. Even her very understanding husband was beginning to lose patience, when, surprisingly, she got pregnant with her daughter, Daisy. While readers don't have to be fertility obsessed to enjoy this very witty memoir (with its ungainly subtitle), for the growing number of women struggling with infertility this book may become their new best friend. (Feb.)
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From The Washington Post
Reviewed by Anne Glusker

The book business loves a niche, especially a profitable one. So it's easy to understand the burgeoning category of what might be called Repro Lit, fueled perhaps by delayed parenthood or by the increased incidence -- or is it heightened awareness? -- of infertility. Some of the books in this category treat adoption, others miscarriage; some address gay parenthood, others single motherhood. And while some are serious investigative studies, many more are personal narratives. The real challenge, especially for the literary memoir writer, comes when she (or sometimes he) wants to transcend the obvious rubric and appeal to a wider audience.

This, I suspect, is Peggy Orenstein's ambition for Waiting for Daisy, and she succeeds in places. In spite of her book's histrionic subtitle -- you can almost hear the agent or editor whispering in her ear, "More! Worse! Farther! Bigger!" -- she treats her efforts to become a mother with intelligent skepticism and a brazen sense of humor (a quality not often found in Repro Lit). It takes chutzpah to begin a chapter: "I married a man who is far better looking than I. It's not that I'm a candidate for a dogfight, exactly, but no one's ever going to confuse me with Adriana Lima."

Unlike many women who have written about the experience of trying and failing to have a baby, Orenstein doesn't leave her feminism at the door. She writes frankly about her initial reluctance to become a mother and traces the complicated evolution of her feelings from "no! never!" to single-minded passion. Once launched on the all-consuming path, she makes stops that will be familiar to many of her readers: joyless "fertility sex"; miscarriage after miscarriage; fertility test after fertility test; expensive, uncaring reproductive-medicine specialists; adoption near-misses; attempts at the brave new universe of surrogacy. But her voice makes all the difference in the world. Far from the anguished, often reverential, super-serious tone of Internet discussion groups is this passage on her introduction to the world of fertility medicine:

"Clomid was my gateway drug; the one you take because, Why not -- everyone's doing it. Just five tiny pills. They'll give you a boost, maybe get you where you need to go. It's true, some women can stop there. For others, Clomid becomes infertility's version of Reefer Madness. First you smoke a little grass, then you're selling your body on a street corner for crack. First you pop a little Clomid, suddenly you're taking out a second mortgage for another round of in vitro fertilization (IVF). You've become hope's bitch, willing to destroy your career, your marriage, your self-respect for another taste of its seductive high."

In addition to her slightly skewed stance, Orenstein engages in some interesting cultural peregrinations. Traveling to Tokyo on a research grant while pregnant, she visits a doctor who tells her that her fetus may have a chromosomal abnormality and then quickly adds that there is an 80 percent chance all will be well. But Orenstein doesn't buy the optimistic outlook: "Japanese doctors lie to protect their patients' feelings. It's considered legitimate, for instance, to withhold a cancer diagnosis from a woman even after a mastectomy so that she won't fall into a suicidal funk. So I didn't believe Dr. Makabe."

And she was right not to. While still in Japan, she experiences both a miscarriage and a D&C (dilation and curettage). For solace, she turns to the practice of Jizo, in which women who have had miscarriages, stillbirths or abortions leave offerings at the feet of statues. She realizes that there is no American term for a fetus that doesn't become a child, whereas the Japanese have a word -- "mizuko," water child. She explains that, historically, Japanese Buddhists thought that "existence flowed into a being slowly, like liquid." Children aren't considered completely in the human realm until they're 7, and a mizuko exists in "that liminal space between life and death but belonging to neither." Beautifully said.

Although much has been written on many facets of the fertility quest -- the medicines, the miscarriages, the adoption process -- surrogacy is less discussed, still more veiled and verboten than other aspects of the experience. Orenstein does a great job with her chapter on "Fish," the young girl who began a correspondence with her after reading her book Schoolgirls and who eventually became her surrogate. She wonderfully describes surrogacy as another stop on the slide down fertility's slippery slope -- one of "perpetually raised stakes and overly inflated expectations." As she and Fish go through the surrogacy process together, Orenstein gives both of them a humanity that enables the reader to see why each would enter this not terribly well-charted territory.

One of the best things about this book is that when she succeeds in her quest (the baby's name is Daisy), Orenstein refuses to take refuge in the smug pieties so prevalent in fertility discussions. When a friend tells her that everything happens for a reason, Orenstein bristles (bless her!):

"That's not something I believe, not when women I love die leaving babies behind, not when children are starving, when adults are tortured. Nor do I like its corollary: 'God only gives you what you can handle.' If so, God is a sadist. I refuse to view life through such a simplistic, superstitious lens, whether it's held up by religion or by New Age. . . . My infertility was not a result of my ambivalence about motherhood."

As Daisy moves on through life, and her mother and father move with her through the parenting maze, it would be interesting to hear Orenstein's intelligent, skeptical voice ruminate on the next stages. For if any writer has the verve and tenacity to supersede the typecasting of Mommy Lit, it's Orenstein.

Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 240 pages
• Publisher: Bloomsbury USA (February 6, 2007)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1596910178
• ISBN-13: 978-1596910171
• Product Dimensions: 8.3 x 5.4 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 12.8 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 4.5 out of 5 stars See all reviews (62 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #487,025 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

17 of 17 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Helped me to feel not so alone, February 15, 2007

By	Berkeley Reader (Berkeley, CA) - See all my reviews

I am in the throws of infertility treatment, and this book was a tremendous help to me. Even though I have been open with my friends and family about what I'm going through (I've just completed injections and am moving onto IVF), and even though they have been sympathetic, I have often felt as though no one can truly understand how painful, draining, and frustrating this process is for me and for my husband. Waiting for Daisy captured many of these emotions perfectly for me, and managed to somehow insert a little spot-on humor into the whole situation that, for the first time, helped me to laugh at the absurd nature of everything I've had to endure. At one point Peggy Orenstein writes about the Clomid spiral, comparing it to cautionary tales of drug addiction -- first you pop a little Clomid, then next thing you know you're taking out a second mortgage on your home to pay for IVF. I laughed out loud at this passage. Just last year I took my first Clomid, thinking that I'd immediately get pregnant. Just yesterday I was calculating whether I should consider a home equity loan for IVF. Likewise, when the author describes how she didn't buy clothes for 3 years because she kept expecting to get pregnant, I was moved by how this little detail sums up the experiencing of being in a holding pattern for years because you know that your life will change at any moment once you get pregnant. For example, I didn't take a "real" vacation for a year and a half, always expecting to need my vacation time to tack onto my maternity leave. Other passages have moved me to tears, since the author gives voice to the pain I am experiencing; the roller coaster of periods coming, of trying to maintain some amount of hope when all I have felt is despair, and of trying to protect my marriage throughout the entire process. Please read this book if you are going through infertility treatments, know someone who is, or even if you just want to read an authentic, beautiful story.

8 of 8 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars This book will capture your heart, February 15, 2007

By	leseratte - See all my reviews

Waiting for Daisy is that rare extraordinary book that takes up an immediate and permanent spot in your heart. This is a book that may possibly change your life.

It is difficult to categorize this book, which is a tribute to Peggy Orenstein's great gift as a writer. It transcends genre as it effortlessly weaves personal memoir, emotional impact, cultural diversity, humor, and brilliant insight. The result is a book which will open your eyes in a very personal experience of your own.

The title of the book and its descriptive subtitle reflect this multi-faceted aspect of the book perfectly. Those who might find the subtitle unwieldy may not perceive the gentle humor as a reflection of Peggy's engaging style, nor do they realize that by touching on each of these elements on the cover Peggy is giving a hint of the many layers to come between the pages.

The framework for this amazing story is one woman's articulate narration of an infertility ordeal. From the decision to have a child through difficulty in conception, from the grinding trial of the infertility industry to the agony of frustrated efforts, Peggy paints an emotional portrait of what so many women endure. Her sympathetic sharing of her own struggle is an outstanding addition to this field of literature and makes Daisy worth reading for anyone, but for any member of the reluctant sisterhood of infertility, it should be considered required reading.

But where most infertility books begin and end with what is unquestionably a consuming drama, Peggy goes beyond and explores topics which enrich the story immeasurably. Her bout with cancer, the saga of the survivors of Hiroshima, the choices of women in a modern professional society: these topics and others are explored with insight and empathy and contribute to the recurring theme of her infertility in an unexpected but rewarding way. The individual concepts form a tapestry where each thread is somehow a perfect complement.

Perhaps the most surprising but ultimately resonant thread is Peggy's emphasis on her relationship with her husband. Her interactions with him, and the effects of her actions and choices on their mutual relationship, are given equal weight with her attempts to deal with her fertility issues. Many infertility memoirs focus almost exclusively on the woman's situation, understandably and appropriately. Peggy moves outside that narrower scope, frankly discussing the effect on her marriage and providing her husband's perspective on how her behavior impacted him personally. The book somehow becomes as much a story of faith in each other, of the miracle of unshakeable love between a man and a woman, of making mistakes, of honesty, and of repentance and forgiveness. Her unflinching analysis of how her relationship weathered the storm makes Daisy as much a manual on marriage as it is on motherhood.

This book will win your heart. Peggy's style, which is so personal and real that you almost imagine her sitting with you as you read her words, draws you in and captivates you from the first page. In intermingling all the various elements of her tale in an engaging and thought-provoking way, she creates a window to the sweep of life in all its complexity. You will laugh and cry and most of all you will be enlightened and inspired in so many ways. And when you are done, you will tell everyone you know to read it too, which is the highest compliment any author can receive.

11 of 12 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Read this book - Wry, poignant and honest., March 26, 2007

By	L. Poliski "Lori" (Seattle, WA) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

I must stress that this book is not just for mothers, infertile women etc. It is a book about being human and everyone could benefit from reading it. Would be fathers, singles, grandparents - read it. Mothers -buy it. Women who choose not to have children- read it. Women who can't have children, buy it. You will see yourself in her mirror somewhere in her book. It will make you laugh, squirm and cry and you won't be able to put it down. It is one of those books that sticks to your ribs and you will be thinking about Peggy O and her life for awhile. Her high school boyfriend who has 15 children is great non fiction - life IS better than art in this book.

I too suffered from "unexplained infertility" and went through the fertility mill like the author but sadly I don't have her gift for writing. I now have two beautiful children and I was trying to read the last 14 pages on Saturday morning while my two kids were climbing all over me and begging me to please read But not the Hippopotamus. I selfishly ignored the very children I tried for 4 years to will into being to finish reading a book that touched on that awful, obsessive infertile "I am less than a woman" stale eggs time for me with a sledgehammer. (It was only 15 minutes or so)

Peggy O is my new literary heroine.