University of Iowa faculty break silence on infertility, pregnancy loss through ‘Chalk’ theater, dance production in Iowa City

IOWA CITY — For Kristin Marrs, the hardest part of struggling with infertility was the mismatch between expectations and reality.

For the associate professor of dance at the University of Iowa, the loss of a pregnancy wasn’t just the sudden stop of the hopes and dreams she had for that child and their lives together. It was also the little mementos of life she would be denied as she waited for the other shoe to drop.

In “Chalk,” she tells that through the story of going in for the first ultrasound around eight weeks of pregnancy.

“You expect a heartbeat, expect to see a little embryo wiggling, expect to leave with a paper of photographs the (ultrasound) tech has taken. Instead of that happening, I learned that my baby wasn’t alive and spent several weeks after that waiting for the miscarriage to happen,” she said.

Even with weeks or months of recovery, that makes it hard for women to move on with their lives.

“It takes years,” Marrs said. “It’s hard to feel normal, or go on with work, or take care of loved ones, or hang out with friends when this is going on, either in the background or the foreground.”

For Anne Marie Nest, a former UI professor of voice and speech and co-producer of the show, it was the hormonal roller coaster she had to ride while being expected to continue with life as usual. Her partner at the time wasn’t supportive, and she couldn’t risk talking about it at work for fear of being seen as a “liability.”

While pregnancy loss and infertility are relatively common for women around the world, a near-universal feeling of loneliness among women experiencing it proves one thing: it’s not discussed enough.

Through interpretive dance, audio collages and more, “Chalk,” a new show by current and former UI faculty, brings the issue to life — turning grief into collective understanding.

Finding inspiration

The two-woman show, led by Marrs and Nest, was inspired by their own journeys with infertility and loss.

A mutual friend, knowing how important it is to connect with others going through similar experiences, introduced them. Independently, they followed their own impulses to process their grief through art in theater and dance.

Marrs produced “A year ago October,” a dance about her grieving process. Nest made a short theater piece exploring the epigenetic grief between her own losses and those of her grandmother and great grandmother, who lost multiple children through miscarriage and death at various ages after birth.

“I thought ‘What if we made something together?’” Marrs said. “When I said that, (we both) got chills. And as an artist, when you get chills, it usually means you’re on the right track.”

On the stage

Through dance, a collage of audio recordings and acting out personal scenes, Marrs and Nest convey a mix of emotions from joy and laughter to grief and darkness with the bodies that led them through it all. Laid bare between each thread is the intensity, complexity and absurdity of their struggles through miscarriages and extreme medical interventions.

After a public call for audio recordings of others’ experiences, the producers were flooded with responses reflecting themes of isolation. Each of them are embedded into a collage of clips and audio that includes a personal conversation Marrs had with her husband.

A portion of those audio recordings will be available online after the show as a story bank.

“I felt so alone after my first miscarriage. I didn’t know anyone who had one,” said Jessie Cole Santala, one interviewee. “Turns out I knew a lot of people who had, but it’s just not something people talk about.”

Other sections of the show will focus on “unhelpful platitudes” unwittingly said to women going through these experiences, and advice for medical professionals who may experience compassion fatigue.

“We’re hoping to expand the conversation. If we can help one woman or partner feel less alone, then I would feel like our work was worth doing,” Nest said.

Control

Through these themes, the show illustrates the emotions of personal failure, shame and what is within a woman’s control.

Marrs and Nest avoided a story about repeatedly trying until “getting lucky,” which accentuates the sense of shame and “something wrong with you.”

They made a point of producing a show that did not end in a neatly tied, happy bow. Many of their friends remain without children today, but not by choice.

“The real wisdom was that I had to let go of this deep desire to have the ending that I wanted and to control, and it was making me crazy trying to have a different ending,” Nest said.

“This show is broadly looking at what we can control and what we can’t control,” Marrs said.

For family, friends and colleagues, it’s a chance to be understand what the grief is like, how they can listen and how they can make a difference.

“At some point, just about everyone will encounter a woman who’s going through this in some way, shape or form,” Marrs said. “Miscarriages are very common, but the fact they are common doesn’t reduce the devastation of them.”

Chalk

The name of the production reflects an element that can be ephemeral or lasting.

“Chalk leaves a mark, but it can also be easily smeared or wiped away,” Marrs said. “Throughout the performance, we’re leaving these marks on the stage, on our bodies. These are things that have literally affected our psychosomatic selves, and those marks will always be there.”

Comments: Features reporter Elijah Decious can be reached at (319) 398-8340 or elijah.decious@thegazette.com.