Words to Live By

It's About Time

2006-03-10T18:56:00.000-08:00

This is it, folks. Time to fold up my infertility blog and move on -- or, over -- to the next big thing. Will I still blog about infertility? Of course, once a member of the club, always a member. I've learned so much and met so many kick-ass ladies because of it, I am almost thankful. Almost.

Somehow, there's a lot of other stuff to blog about. I hope you'll continue reading me here.

Fifteen

2006-03-06T20:24:00.000-08:00

Has it really only been 5 days since my last post? Seems like it was a long time ago...

Over the weekend I attended my first Quinceanera. It was for the daughter of the chick who sits next to me at work who drives me crazy with all her drama (or "my colleague"). I've been hearing about this event for a year. She's spent so much time on the phone with the caterer and the choreographer and the videographer and the tailor I don't know how she's managed to do any work. I had never heard of a Quinceanera until last year. Basically, its a mock wedding, a wedding without a groom.

From About.com: "A Quinceanera (the term refers both to the celebration and to the girl who has turned 15) is similar in concept to a debutante's "coming out party" in other countries [its most popular in Mexico although its celebrated in other Hispanic cultures]. The celebration is a means of acknowledging that a young woman has reached sexual maturity and is now an adult, ready to assume additional family and social responsibilities. In addition, the celebration is intended to reaffirm religious faith, good morals, and the virtues of traditional family values."

Not being churchy-types, we didn't attend the church service (the "thanksgiving Mass"), but the reception part of it was enough to give us the taste. A girl in a white dress with a tiara and an escort, surrounded by 14 couples in lavender dresses and tuxedos, a 3-tiered cake, flowers, a Latino heartthrob wedding singer dude, place cards at the plated dinner...I could have swore somebody should have gotten married.

Actually, it was heartening to see 30 kids in the 14 to 16 age range all dressed up, doing a choreographed waltz and wishing their friend well. The picture was spoiled a bit by those who insisted on wearing sunglasses and talking on their cell phones, but I guess you can't completely take the street out of the kids.

I was enjoying all the pomp and pagaentry when the DJ pulls out a screen and a projector. Time for the photo collage. As I sat behind my colleague and her daughter, watching them laugh at the funny baby pictures and seeing the progression from tiny swaddled bundle to toddler to roller-skates and cheerleading pom-poms, I couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous. OK, a lot. Tears welled up in my eyes and I had to pretend I was having trouble with my contacts for a few minutes.

One of the reasons why this chick bothers me so much is she is one of those mothers who constantly complains about her child. She had her daughter when she was 18 and has always been a single mother. She is rude to her, hangs up on her, and is always telling me how lucky I am that I don't have kids and how she will never have another one, and (of course), that I can have hers if I want.

If I could, I would take her up on that one. Damn. It sucks that I won't ever have a 15 year-old daughter.

Five for Fighting -- 100 Years mp3

Whiskers on Kittens

2006-03-01T17:50:00.000-08:00

So what the hell is this blog about these days?

Even though it's been a year since we got off The Baby Train (as I so tactfully like to say), stories I hear that involve ART continue to fascinate me, even though I'll never take advantage of new technologies or have to worry about having to choose between donor egg and adoption. This story in the Washington Post was particularly interesting, if nothing else than for the human nature aspect. I must say I really like that some sperm banks are now giving the donor the choice of whether or not their identity can be made public (when their offspring reach 18), and I fully support the choice of a donor that elects NOT to.

In other random Donna-ness, here are some of my favorite things at the moment.

Market Pantry (Target brand) Lemon Shortbread Cookies with White Chocolate Chunks. Just get some.

Lipton Diet Green Tea with citrus -- delicious and full of antixoidants!

Fairview Pinotage 2003 -- an excellent South African red wine.

Songs sung in French (Coloratura, can you help me with translation here?):
Sarah Harmer - Salamandre mp3
Madeleine Peyroux - J'ai Deux Amours mp3

Pageantry. I can't get enough of it. All that figure skating at the Olympics has refueled my need for live performances involving dance, costumes and competition. Fortunately, I live in a part of the country that has a thriving winter color guard and drum corps community. Sound like geeky band stuff? Think again.

2006 Infiniti FX35
I don't need a new car, my 2001 VW Jetta does just fine, but damn...that is one sweet ride. I'm in love with this color too.

Got any new favorites to share?

Lucky -- Review

2006-02-24T16:45:00.000-08:00

Excerpt from Amazon's synopsis:
"When Alice Sebold was a college freshman at Syracuse University, she was attacked and raped on the last night of school. In a ham-handed attempt to mollify her, a policeman later told her that a young woman had been murdered there and, by comparison, Sebold should consider herself lucky. That dubious "luck" is the focus of this fiercely observed memoir about how an incident of such profound violence can change the course of one's life. Sebold launches her memoir headlong into the rape itself, laying out its visceral physical as well as mental violence, and from there spins a narrative of her life before and after the incident, weaving memories of parental alcoholism together with her post-rape addiction to heroin."

Her account of the rape was very disturbing (I’m sure it would be to anyone, but was particularly so for me), but I was expecting this book to be about how she healed; how she went on with day to day life after experiencing such a horrible event. For background and clarity she gives us a lot of information about her family, particularly her mother, who suffers from severe panic attacks, but little about how that affected her. That’s my main criticism of the book in a nutshell – it is written in first person but reads like a newspaper account.

More than three quarters of the book is taken up with the rape, the trial, and then the rape of her best friend (in their apartment -- the rapist made her friend move into Alice’s bedroom so he could rape her in the same bed that a previous rape victim slept in – talk about creepy).

Finally you get to the short “Aftermath” chapter (seriously, its 10 pages!), and all of a sudden you are filled in with all the self-destructive behavior that she was still engaged in, more than 10 years later.

“…I had published a piece in the New York Times Magazine, a first-hand account of my rape. In it, I beseeched people to talk about rape and to listen to articulate victims when they had a story to tell. …I celebrated with four dime bags and a Greek boyfriend who had once been my student. Then Oprah called, having read the article. I went on the show. I was the victim who fought back. …[I] flew back home to snort heroin.”

Now I don’t know for sure, maybe I would want to snort heroin too if I were on Oprah, but does that sound like someone who should be held up as an example of someone who fought back and reclaimed their life?

She is successful almost in spite of herself, and, ironically, it isn’t until she is quoted in a book called Trauma and Recovery (in the first half), that she figures out that she is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. As she reads first-person accounts by Vietnam vets she is finally able to start feeling, and therefore, healing.

She tells us her therapist had mentioned PTSD a year earlier but she dismissed it as “so much psycho-babble.” Wait – she has a therapist?? I’m sure there was a lot of fodder from those sessions that could have found a place in the book. I wish she had spent as much energy and pages on the aftermath and the healing as she did on the earlier events that made them necessary.

It takes a lot of guts to publish an account of your own rape, and I applaud her for doing so. It’s not an easy book to read, and despite my criticisms, I would recommend it.

I’ll discuss my own issues soon – suffice it to say for now that I wasn’t so “lucky” as to see my rapist go to trial and then to prison.

Holiday Photo Blogging

2006-02-20T12:59:00.000-08:00

Today is Presidents' Day here in the US. I still haven't quite figured out who's birthday it is, or if today is neither Washington nor Lincoln's birthdays, just a day picked between them to celebrate. I'm sure one of my American readers can fill me in.

I finished reading Lucky last night. I need to work on the post-reading entry, it will take a little bit of time to make my thoughts coherent, and it will be the start of a trend of The Dark Side of Donna posts, so, y'all can look forward to that!

Instead, here's some more snow pictures of my house and property, plus an obligatory cute dog picture.

Front of the house. Our bedroom is at the top of the A, behind the little deck on the second story. There's no snow on the right side because the trees caught it all before it could get to the ground. It rained last night so most of the snow is gone now.

Directly behind the house. Right before we moved in 6 years ago a huge oak tree fell and took out a bunch of other trees with it. We've been cutting firewood from the pile ever since. Other than the fireline around the house and the driveway, the 2 acre property is all trees.

Tucker and Bailey waiting for Daddy to get out of the shower.

Snow Day

2006-02-18T11:30:00.000-08:00

Remember I told you the other day it was in the mid-70s and we ate our V-Day lunch outside? Yesterday and today...not so much. As I write this its 35 degrees and snowing. Keep in mind we are 2500 feet above sea level, even though we are only 10 miles from the ocean (can you say steep hills on the way to Donna's house?).

These pictures were taken this morning by D. in his bathrobe from our deck.

We've spent time with D's son every weekend for the last month. When we picked him up before Cirque I even met D's ex. I was a little nervous about meeting her, but she was very gracious, hugged us both and told D it was nice to see him again (they haven't seen each other since they split up more than 20 years ago). I keep expecting to be uncomfortable -- if this had been my family, someone would have been an asshole long before now, I'm sure. Just when I thought C was a little too good to be true, we found out that he smokes. A tiny blip on the radar, but at least it's something to put on the right side of the ledger. Not that I think underneath this polite and thoughtful exterior there lives a serial killer, but I'm just too jaded and cynical to accept all sweetness and light. Seriously, how sad is that?

I'm having a tough time getting through Lucky. I generally read right before I go to sleep and I've been having strange dreams and restless nights. When I finish the book I'll give a more detailed review; not so much of the book, but how it affected me.

Raise your hand if you remember this song!

Cool Change -- Little River Band

Let me know if you have trouble downloading this, I'm trying out a new archiving tool. I thought this was a fitting choice for this post, both because of the weather and my struggle to change my negative thinking patterns.

Reason #897

2006-02-13T18:22:00.000-08:00

I can't even count the reasons why I love the San Francisco Bay Area -- the weather, the restaurants, the beaches, the different characters of the cities...not least of these is the politics. I realize I live in an exceedingly liberal area and it is not in any way, shape or form representative of the country at large. I literally would not survive in a more conservative part of the country. Not that I'm a raving lunatic or anything, I just think everybody should stay out of everybody else's business.

In September 2003 and again in September 2005 the City Council of my little beach town called for an investigation into impeaching Bush and Cheney. Last week the news came out her big sister San Franciso's City Council is working up a resolution calling for the "full investigation, impeachment or resignation'' of those two yokels. Their alleged crimes include:

-- Waging an unnecessary war in Iraq.
-- Authorizing torture of terrorist prisoners.
-- Failing to respond adequately to Hurricane Katrina.
-- And not to be forgotten -- ordering the secret wiretapping of U.S. citizens without a warrant.

Read the entire article at SF Gate if you're interested. Discuss amongst yourselves, and enjoy the tunes. It was 73 today, so sunny and warm D. and I ate our Valentine's Day lunch outside on the restaurant's patio.

The Magnetic Fields -- Come Back from San Francisco mp3
Led Zeppelin -- Going to California mp3
Mamas and the Papas -- California Dreamin' mp3

If you want to hear and see the video for Rufus Wainwright's "California", head on over to my girl Tiffanni's blog.

Newsworthy

2006-02-10T11:04:00.000-08:00

This was posted over at Bird in Hand the other day and I am stealing it to share with you.

From NPR: Babies' Cells Linger, May Protect Mothers
February 8, 2006 · Some scientists have proposed that when a woman has a baby, she gets not just a son or a daughter, but a gift of cells that stays behind and protects her for the rest of her life. That's because a baby's cells linger in its mom's body for decades and -- like stem cells -- may help to repair damage when she gets sick. It's such an enticing idea that even the scientists who came up with the idea worry that it may be too beautiful to be true.

Actually, the study shows that when a women gets pregnant, regardless of whether a live baby results, she still gets the benefit of these fetal cells. Some small consolation for those of us who have been pregnant but don't have a baby to show for it. Read and/or listen to the entire article here and tell me what you think.

Secondly, the other harbinger of all things newsworthy, Access Hollywood, recently posted a story on their website called "Celeb Hot Moms May Redefine Motherhood". I almost didn't read the article since it seemed to rehash what a lot of other stories have said lately -- its cool and hip and hot to be a Mom in Hollywood these days. However, deep in the article were two paragraphs that grabbed me. My comments are in parentheses.

"It's hard to imagine that there was a time when motherhood, especially the unwed kind, could spell the end of an actress's career. In 1935, Loretta Young resorted to pretending to adopt her own baby daughter, and later altered the child's emerging family resemblance through painful plastic surgery, rather than admit that she and Clark Gable were the parents. [This was alleged in a 1994 book, "Uncommon Knowledge," written by Loretta's daughter, Judy Lewis, who claimed she was the result of an affair between a married Gable and Miss Young. According to Ms. Lewis, Miss Young had her baby in secret in late 1935, then eventually "adopted" the child when she was 2. A spokesman denied it, and in a 1995 New York Times interview, Miss Young refused to discuss the story, calling it a "rumor of a bygone time," and adding, "I have made peace with my daughter."]

"Hollywood actresses wanted to keep their luster as an attractive, young unmarried woman," says film historian James Robert Parish, author of "The Hollywood Book of Love."

Motherhood was out of the question, Parish says. "In the '20s, '30s and '40s, big actresses would have abortions --Judy Garland, Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe, Joan Crawford, not only because the studios would be mad, but because they were so afraid someone else would replace them in the public's affection."

I'm happy that at least in this regard, Hollywood and our society has made some progress.

Lucky

2006-02-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

This has been a busy weekend, but a great one.

Friday I had the privilege of meeting up with Manuela and Statia, as well as non-blogger Amber, who I met at the Bay Area IF Blogapalooza a while back. Manuela's Mr. Pink Line was also there, what a cute couple they are! He was very gracious and interested in our conversation and just a really cool guy. Manuela is every bit as fabulous as you would think she would be; so gregarious and smart, just the right mix of tough and sweet. Statia is so self-aware and confident and direct, she scares me just a little bit. In a good way. If I had my shit that together 10 years ago just think what I could have accomplished. Watch out for Statia, she's headed for big things. Amber is sophisticated and whip-smart, quiet yet strong. Sort of like a latte with a tequila chaser.

Speaking of alcohol, it flowed freely...cable cars, lemon drops, amaretto sours, scotch -- and that was without Amber (she's 15 weeks and looked amazing in a leather skirt and Italian stilettos).

We met here...

...then headed up to the 21st floor and talked for hours.

Yesterday we went to see Cirque du Soleil's latest touring show, Corteo. If you've never seen one of their shows, you MUST go. I've seen almost all of them; we try to go every year when they are in town. Synopsis from the Cirque website: "Corteo, which means "cortege" in Italian, is a festive parade imagined by a clown. The clown pictures his own funeral taking place in a carnival atmosphere, watched over by quietly caring angels. Juxtaposing the large with the small, the ridiculous with the tragic and the magic of perfection with the charm of imperfection, the show highlights the strength and fragility of the clown, as well as his wisdom and kindness, to illustrate the portion of humanity that is within each of us. The music, by turns lyrical and playful, carries Corteo through a timeless celebration in which illusion teases reality." The only word I can come up with is magical. Usually it is the acts that amaze me, but this time it was the back-story of the clown and the angels that enthralled me.

One of my favorite parts was when the clown brought out his tiny lady friend, Valentina (a full-grown woman who had to have been less than 3 feet tall). She was riding in a little contraption attached to huge balloons. He gently guided her over the audience and people pushed on her feet as she glided down to them, sending her around the tent.

These pictures don't begin to do the show justice, you have to see it for yourself. My step-son C. ended up joining us, which was an added bonus. Last night my jaw hurt from smiling for hours.

I really am lucky to have all that I do. I've found that learning to be happy is a process, a skill, like learning to do anything else. I'm wary and distrustful of happiness, a part of me is sure it will be taken away at any moment, like it has so many times before. But I am making progress.

I'm about to start reading Lucky by Alice Sebold, her memoir about being raped. I had a hard time with The Lovely Bones, Sebold's novel about a little girl who is murdered and then narrates the story looking down upon the family she left behind. I'm more than a little anxious about reading this book but I think it will be good for me. My own rape is tied to my separate history of sexual abuse, and is something I know I haven't dealt with fully. I feel like I am ready to at least peel back that page a little bit, even if it is someone else's story. You have to start somewhere.

Return to Narnia

2006-02-02T20:34:00.000-08:00

I don't usually comment on politics, but I heard something in the State of the Union speech that really got my hackles up. This is a quote:

"A hopeful society has institutions of science and medicine that do not cut ethical corners, and that recognize the matchless value of every life. Tonight I ask you to pass legislation to prohibit the most egregious abuses of medical research: human cloning in all its forms, creating or implanting embryos for experiments, creating human-animal hybrids, and buying, selling, or patenting human embryos. Human life is a gift from our Creator -- and that gift should never be discarded, devalued or put up for sale."

WTF? First of all, there were far too many references to our Creator, God, whatever you want to call it, in this speech. But what really burns me is W's attempt to put the lid back on stem cell research, science that is already helping people in other countries. This is the best he could come up with? I for one can see a lot of benefits of creating human-animal hybrids, anyone who saw The Chronicles of Narnia knows that.

Mr. Tumnus is a faun: half-man, half-goat. He made a great cup of tea and was a true friend. Also, always had an umbrella handy.

There might not be a lot of practical uses for a faun, but a centaur, that's a whole different thing.

General Oreius here is H-O-T.

The Secret History

2006-02-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading The Secret History by Donna Tartt. I read her second novel, The Little Friend, first, and I almost didn't pick up her debut novel as I didn't enjoy Friend that much. They seem to have been written by different authors, which I suppose is a testament to her abilities. This book is meaty and thick, both in length and in language, not a beach read -- my kind of writing.

Excerpt of synopsis from Amazon: Part psychological thriller, part chronicle of debauched, wasted youth, it suffers from a basically improbable plot, a fault Tartt often redeems through the bravado of her execution. Narrator Richard Papen comes from a lower-class family and a loveless California home to the "hermetic, overheated atmosphere" of Vermont's Hampden College. Almost too easily, he is accepted into a clique of five socially sophisticated students who study Classics with an idiosyncratic, morally fraudulent professor. Finally they reveal to Richard that they accidentally killed a man during a bacchanalian frenzy; when one of their number seems ready to spill the secret, the group--now including Richard--must kill him, too.

It took her ten years to write this book, and another ten before her second was published. This fact certainly puts a bit of a dark tint on my rose-colored view of becoming a novelist one day!

I'm currently reading The Amber Room by Steve Berry. In contrast, this book is a very easy read and reminds me a lot (too much) of The DaVinci Code. Since there is a large, glowing quote from Dan Brown on the dust jacket I am guessing they are colleagues. Like Code, this book seems as though it was written with the thought of it being made into a movie, ignoring many opportunities for insight into characters' thoughts and foregoing description of places and people in lieu of action. This topic interests me greatly, so I'll look for a good historical non-fiction account of the room and the search for it after World War II.

So, a recommendation for The Secret History and a pass on The Amber Room from me.

Ode to Annie

2006-01-28T18:36:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to bore myself here folks, so if you came back, thank you. Emotionally I'm doing better, but now I have a cold; which could explain some of the melancholy I've been experiencing.

Even though Rule #1 is This Blog is All About Me, today I've decided to give everyone a break and give you some tunes.

I've loved Annie Lennox for 20-old years now, going way back to the early Eurythmics' days. I cut my eye teeth on the dance floor of the clubs in the Vancouver suburbs on "Sweet Dreams", "Love is a Stranger" and "Here Comes the Rain Again"...who didn't? The dance clubs were the place I let loose my conservative, bookish persona and introduced the world to the chick who would get up on the speakers to dance in front of the video screen. I'm sure alcohol helped in those endeavours. People from school or other parts of my life would barely recognize me, and I met several boyfriends at the clubs. None of those relationships worked out, as they were surprised to find the girl they were dating wasn't always Speaker Girl. One of them was one of the great loves of my life though...definitely the one who got away (back to England). Dammit, how did I get back to me??

There is an excellent biography/discography here if you want to know more details about Annie, who is far more interesting than me. Her three solo albums are Diva (1992), Medusa (1995), and Bare (2003), all of them chock-full of amazing vocal performances. Here's a song from each (right click on the link and Save Target As to download).

Cold (Diva) mp3

Waiting in Vain (Medusa) mp3

A Thousand Beautiful Things (Bare) - mp3

Overwhelmed

2006-01-25T11:22:00.000-08:00

You are correct, I am over thinking this. And yet, I can't stop. Today I am overwhelmed and feel like I have nothing to give to anyone.

I took on a second client this week, working for a good friend that I've worked with and for before. Easy work, some of it from home, good money. Even when you add together the time for both clients, it still doesn't equal a full-time job. And yet, I wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew.

Last night I was at the hairdresser for my once-every-five-week attempt to keep the gray at bay. I've been seeing the same stylist for a long time and we chat easily. She also struggled with IF and was never successful, so I feel her to be a kindred spirit of sorts. Usually the salon is a haven for me, but last night it was filled with children and babies. Ugh. How dare they invade my inner sanctum. I told my stylist about D.'s son resurfacing, she was happy for us, as is everyone. As I sat there surrounded by the sounds of children and adults interacting with them, I could feel myself sinking. I couldn't hear anything after a while, the voice in my head was so loud.

"You are never going to have a child," it said.

Fuck. I need a drink.

It's five o'clock somewhere.

Stop Making Sense

2006-01-23T20:38:00.000-08:00

I apologize upfront for this post, it will most likely be a lot of rambling and disjointed-ness.

I've asked my brain for some assistance in sorting out the reality that my husband's child will soon be 24. Wait, back up! "My husband's son" doesn't make sense, because any son of his would be a son of mine. No? OK, never mind.

I started thinking maybe in the grand scheme of things it was probably a good thing that we didn't have a baby, since that would have happened in the last couple of years, because how weird would that have been to have a child and a grandchild around the same age? Oh, wait. My Dad has a son and a grandson almost exactly the same age, and two grandchildren younger than his son. Crap.

My maternal grandmother had her first child at 20 and her last (her 9th) at 41. It would have been quite possible for her eldest daughter (my mother) to have been pregnant at the same time as her mother; thankfully this didn't happen, although there is only 7 years between my youngest uncle and my brothers.

My parents had their first children (twins) when they were 24, and their last child (me) when they were 31. Their first grandchild was born when they were 44, their last grandchild when they were 64. In between there, at 57 my Dad had a baby with his girlfriend, which completely throws off the entire timeline.

D's brother and sister both had their first child at 28, and D's brother became a grandfather at 49. D had his son at 24 and became a grandfather at 46.

So why am I so confused and conflicted by the thought of having a 24 year-old step-son? D's sister is 14 years older than me and has two children in their 20's, and D's brother is 11 years older than me and has a daughter in her early 20's and a granddaughter in single digits. But, my sister is only 15 months older than me and has a 15 year-old, an 11 year-old and an 8 year-old.

To add to the mix, I would have a 22 year-old son or daughter of my own had I not terminated my pregnancy back in 1984.

So, simutaneously it seems that I am way too young AND exactly the right age to have a son (step or otherwise) in his mid-20s. I've been told so many times that it was normal and even relatively easy to have a baby after 35 or 40, my view of the world is skewed. Go figure.

Norah Jones -- Crazy (Live) -- Mp3

Fresh Start

2006-01-22T15:16:00.000-08:00

First, I want to talk about cheese and honey sandwiches. Take an english muffin and put a piece of cheese on one side. I usually use swiss but you can use whatever you like. Trim the cheese so it doesn't drip off the sides and bake in the toaster oven until the cheese starts to color just a little bit. Let it cool for a minute and then put a drizzle of honey on the other side and eat like a sandwich. It's good, really. Try it.

I know you are all dying to hear how our meeting went last night. I've been struggling to find eloquent words to describe it but I've given up so I can post something.

So, we get there and look around a bit and realize he isn't there yet. We wait outside and a car pulls up and he gets out, D. recognizes him immediately. They shake hands and with the other arm, hug each other. Then he hugs me. He's very tall, easily two inches taller than his father. A very good-looking kid. We all admit to being a bit nervous and C. pulls out some pictures of S. to fill in the time. C. bought S. a little snake as a pet and they have a long discussion about the python D. used to have, the first of many similarities. We get seated and just start talking, after about 10 minutes we've all settled in and most of the nervousness is gone and we are just chatting.

I won't bore you with all the details, but over the course of the evening we found out they have a lot in common: love seafood, don't drink coffee, martial arts, guitar, hunting (this one was huge for D., he can be a part of their group that goes every year), loves the outdoors, animals (dogs in particular), on and on. He really wants to be a writer (!) but is going back to school to finish out his degree so he can have a real job while he pursues that. Something we ALL have in common.

He's very polite, articulate, quietly confident, loves his little boy and his family (despite a lot of ups and downs over the years), has beautiful skin, his father's eyes and a gentle soul. He was very gracious and thankful to D's Mom, telling her how much he appreciated the effort she made to be a part of his life when he was younger.

The two of them were sitting on the couch at Mom's while I sat in a chair across the room; sitting there watching them talk and joke around, it brought tears to my eyes a couple of times. It was definitely NOT about me, my heart was just so glad for them both. On the way home we were talking and I said again what a shame it was that they had been separated all this time, and how great it would have been if they had been a part of each other's lives in some way through the years. D. said if that were true then maybe we wouldn't be together. Can I tell you how much I love this man? And is it possible to love someone you just met?

Neil Finn -- Throw Your Arms Around Me (Live) -- Mp3

Wild and Crazy

2006-01-20T14:43:00.000-08:00

Am I scaring people away with all this heaviness? I know there are tons of lurkers out there, I'd love to hear from you, particularly anyone who has adult step-children.

I was tagged by Jude so I thought I would lighten things up a bit today and give you 5 weird things about me.

1. I wear my watch on my right wrist even though I am right-handed; I found it really difficult to fasten the strap when its on my left. Consequently, people often think I am left-handed at first glance.

2. I have a very acute sense of smell, D. calls me The Super Sniffer. Sometimes that's a good thing (chocolate chip cookies), and sometimes it is not (roadkill).

3. I cannot say the word "malevolent". I can barely type it.

4. I have a problem with left and right. I have slight dyslexia and that seems to be the way it expresses itself. If I had a dime for every time someone said to me, "No, your OTHER right!", I'd be sitting on a velvet chaise lounge having someone feed me grapes while they fanned me as I typed this.

5. I love cheese and honey sandwiches. Maybe it's a Canadian thing.

After our dinner tomorrow we are all going over to see D.'s Mom. It's her 85th birthday and she is tickled pink that she will get to see her youngest grandson again.

48 Hours

2006-01-19T17:15:00.000-08:00

Just about 48 hours from now we will be sitting down to dinner with C.

I'm doing a bit better, but it still feels bittersweet. Before, D. and I carried the shared burden of being a childless couple, and our own private agony over why it was so for each of us separately, and us together. Now, the rules have changed. He is a father and a grandfather over there and I'm still over here, childless. I know that isn't the reality of the situation, he's no more C's father in the sense of being his parent than I am his step-mother, but there is a blood bond there that I will never share.

On the flip side of that coin, as long as I've known him, he's been a father, and had the opportunity to go through his partner's pregnancy and watch the birth of his son, and spent the first year watching over him and watching him grow and learn. Ironically, that is why D. was so hesitant to have a baby with me (the fear of going through all that again), and what made it possible for me to even entertain the idea (my fears being calmed by being with someone who had already been through it).

'Tis a tattered web I weave.

A Thousand Words

2006-01-16T13:48:00.000-08:00

We have pictures. Four pictures of C. and his son, S., taken last summer. Father and son have the same eyes, the same shape of face, the same hair. Not just the same color and type of hair, but the same hair CUT. We went over to his Mom's on Saturday to show her the pictures, and she noticed right away they have the same hands. She brought out an old photo album from when C. was a baby, for comparison purposes. Looking at those old photos just made me so sad.

First, because D's brother and sister had their kids at about the same time, C. is the youngest by barely a year, there is less than 5 years between the four children. There are pictures of all the cousins, everybody together at family gatherings, etc. It would have been so perfect if D. had been able to keep his son as part of his life, he would have gotten so much support and C. would have grown up with the other three, who are all wonderful young adults now. Seeing D. with C. in his arms just broke my heart. Then it was broken again when I looked at C. and his son, who are now separated.

Then, there's the selfish part. I wonder how this will change things in my relationship with D. Now more than ever, I assume there won't be any more discussion about us having a child by any means, he's at the beginning of a new chapter with his son and grandson. His family tree continues, while mine just ends in a stump. I'll never know what its like to see my eyes in someone else's face, or to hear my Dad's sense of humor passed on. Back when we were considering a surrogate I had myself convinced that the fact that it wouldn't be my bio-child didn't matter, I wanted D's genes to continue. That's bullshit. It DOES matter. As I've said before, biology and the need to procreate is hard-wired. We are all innately selfish creatures with a desire for immortality.

C. seems like a wonderful young man and I will be happy to welcome him into my life. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Unless something changes, I'll be there when father and son reunite, this coming Saturday.

The Kinks -- Picture Book Mp3

Freedom of Information

2006-01-11T13:06:00.000-08:00

There's still communication going back and forth between D. and his son (C.), providing more details and insights. We've both been struck by how similar their writing styles are. Sadly, they both became separated from their sons at an early age, something which may have been the catalyst for C. wishing to seek D. out. C. indicated in one of his messages that he thinks "we may be more similar than either of us would have imagined."

We've now found out that my Aunt died of pneumonia and that she'd been ill for quite some time. In order to obtain her records from the institution I have to file a request with the Canadian equivalent of the Freedom of Information Act through the Ministry for Children and Family Development. They will make a copy of her file and someone has to come to their offices and pick it up in person, showing identification. Obviously I'm not going to be able to do that, so I hope my brother will help me out. My contact from the institution's survivor's group said not to be surprised to see information blacked out, that it would only consist of "what they dared to write in her file". I'm not quite sure why I feel so compelled to find out as much as I can about her. Partly its just pure curiousity; I can't imagine being deaf and blind, never mind growing up in such a place. I'd love to write about it, maybe that's my first novel.

In obtusely-related news, last Thursday Dubya signed into law a prohibition on posting annoying web messages or sending annoying e-mail messages without disclosing your true identity. Does this mean the end of blog trolls? Here's the relevant language: "Whoever...utilizes any device or software that can be used to originate telecommunications or other types of communications that are transmitted, in whole or in part, by the Internet... without disclosing his identity and with intent to annoy, abuse, threaten, or harass any person...who receives the communications...shall be fined under title 18 or imprisoned not more than two years, or both." Read the CNET article here.

Lost and Found

2006-01-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned a while back, I'm working on a new blog but its not ready for prime time yet. I have a Very Talented Designer working on the graphics and template. I'll keep this one for archive purposes but I felt it was the right time to start fresh, and with all the changes to the template it was just easier to get a new URL so we could play around with it and not drive my readers crazy while it was going through design stages.

I sort of wanted to start out the new year with the new blog, but I cannot hold onto my good news any longer. Remember my "Seven Things" post from last month? It looks like #3 on the list of Things to Do Before I Die is going to happen a lot sooner than I thought. Go ahead, look.

Last week D. got an email from his son, out of the blue. It was carefully worded, cautiously optimistic, respectful, with fine grammar and syntax...everything we could have wished for. I want to be very careful about their privacy so I can't give you all the details, but I can tell you he's close by, he has a son of his own, and seems remarkably baggage-free, considering what he's been through. They're writing back and forth right now exchanging information, and a face-to-face meeting is in the works. D. was stunned but happy (as was I), and seems to be in a really good space about everything, as does his son.

Obviously this doesn't lessen my sadness regarding our failure to have a child of our own, but it goes a long way to lighten the heartache of knowing D. had a son out there who didn't know him. Now they both have a chance to make a fresh start. Funny how your life can change in an instant, and all of a sudden you are on a new path. Happy new year, indeed.

New Beginnings

2006-01-08T11:34:00.000-08:00

My sincerest thanks to everyone who sent me their condolences...I'm actually doing OK. I'm working on posting some good news for a change, and some other big changes. Stay tuned.

Too Little, Too Late

2005-12-30T12:17:00.000-08:00

Just when I thought I was going to skate through the rest of the year without falling through the ice, I receive a phone call from my Dad. My aunt, his sister, passed away quietly on Wednesday. Faithful readers will remember this is the aunt I never knew existed until I was a teenager, who was born deaf and blind and spent her entire life in an institution. I pressed my family to take the simple steps necessary to find her, which we did, in October . I regret terribly that I never got the chance to meet her, and, even worse, that neither my Dad nor his brother got the chance to see her before she died. I had no idea she was so ill.

The silver lining in all of this is at least the government worker knew how to get in touch with her family (she is a ward of the court); if we had not made contact with her caregivers I don't know how hard they would have searched for next of kin.

If you have people in your life that you love and you haven't told them recently, tell them today. It might be your last chance.

Peter Gabriel -- I Grieve -- Mp3

Child of Mary

2005-12-26T20:54:00.000-08:00

I talked to my mother (Mary) today. After many years of heart-breaking passive-aggressiveness and long periods of silence, we've come to an understanding about the amount and type of communication that works between us. We speak on the phone twice, maybe three times a year -- her birthday, my birthday, and Christmas -- and send the obligatory cards back and forth. I send her a Christmas centerpiece or wreath (without flowers, she's allergic) every year, and she sends me a few pictures of herself and a gift I will never use. When we talk on the phone we discuss safe topics like the weather, trips we've taken recently or the dogs. Occasionally, if I open the door even a crack, she'll launch headlong into her latest mysterious medical condition that no doctor can seem to diagnose. When this happens I wait patiently in silence until she realizes I am not saying anything and changes the subject. Not exactly the ideal mother-daughter relationship, but after all the pain and anger that she's caused me I think it's the best that I can do.

Our trip to Yosemite was slightly disappointing, as there was absolutely NO snow to be found, at least not at the altitude we were at, you could see tiny spots on the tops of mountains. The bare trees do have a certain kind of sad beauty, but I missed the quiet magic that seeing them covered with snow brings.

Our hotel was a full hour's drive from the hotel where the big dinner was, which was unexpected, so that night involved driving back and forth and back and forth as we had to get our table assignment in person and the time cut-off was 2 hours before the dinner started. Once we finally got there (a bit late), it was really wonderful. At one point a beautiful little girl of about 10 was dancing and singing and stopped on her way down the causeway to hand me the ribbon she was carrying and grabbed D. for an impromptu dance. I smiled sweetly in the spotlight as my heart jumped into my throat and tears welled behind my eyes, watching my husband twirl her around joyfully.

The next day we returned to Yosemite Valley to do some hiking and wander around the Ahwahnee in the daylight.

All day there were performances by the opera chorale that stars in the dinner. We managed to get a comfy seat on a couch to listen to them sing carols. Sitting in a room decorated to the hilt, everyone around me singing along, I sat silently, feeling disconnected during the religious selections and barren and sad during the children's carols. We left before Santa arrived; I couldn't bear to watch all the children in the room squealing with delight in their adorable outfits.

The last few years we've started the tradition of taking D's Mom to the movies on Christmas Day. This year we saw the Chronicles of Narnia. I read the books when I was a child, they were some of my favorites. It was completely delightful, and went a long way to fulfill my wish for a magical snow-covered fantasy. The computer generation was absolutely amazing, especially the lion, and the children were very good. I wonder why only British children get to have these types of wonderful adventures? From Mary Poppins to Harry Potter to Lord of the Rings to Narnia, its really not fair. I have added a new actor to my "Famous Men I'd Like To Do" list, he's just a baby, only 18, but undeniably delicious: William Mosely, who plays the eldest of the four children.

We watched several of the programs on TV recently about the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene, the childhood of Jesus, Noah's ark, etc. While I don't doubt that some of even all of these people may have existed, their divinity and the debate over whether the Bible is fact or fiction makes me slightly angry and slightly crazy. Going back to my mother and my childhood, one thing that I am thankful for is the utter lack of religion in our household. I think I would have been much worse off if I had to struggle with the dichotomy of an omnipotent and omniscient power that was goodness personified, watching over me, with the reality of my existence. Although his views are more extreme than mine, Penn Jillette wrote a very interesting article for NPR a while back, and some of the things he writes ring true for me. [I'm not a huge Penn Jillette fan, I think he's very strange, and he jumped on the celebrity wacky baby name wagon as well.] To those who have a strong faith of the God of your understanding, I envy you. All I have is myself, my loved ones and the blogosphere.

Wassail

2005-12-19T17:54:00.000-08:00

No, its not a synonym for "whassup", it actually means "A festive occasion on which toasts are drunk; the ale or wine in which such toasts are made." I know I've been telling you all I can't get into Christmas and haven't done many of the traditions this year, but for some reason it was my idea to attend perhaps the most extravagant Christmas pageant/banquet on the West Coast, the Bracebridge Dinner at the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park.

Its well worth the short read to find out the long and interesting history of the Dinner. Its only been in the last couple of years that you can even get tickets without winning a lottery. I have a friend who has been twice and she spoke so highly of it we decided to make the trip this year. The dinner itself is very expensive (let's put it this way, the 17-person Bay Area Blogapalooza luncheon cost about the same as it will for just the two of us to attend), so that's another reason we are forgoing most of the other Christmas stuff -- i.e. presents -- this year. We aren't staying at the Ahwahnee, that was way out of the price range, but we are staying here, which is close-by and was given rave reviews by my boss. I'm hoping that the combination of the snow, the old English traditions and spending three quality days alone with D. will salve my weary soul. We leave early Thursday morning and return late Christmas Eve. I suspect Christmas Day will find us holed up at home with the pups. In any case, this will be my last entry for a bit. Everyone have a safe and happy holiday.

Mother

2005-12-18T16:23:00.000-08:00

Many times I've read and heard Infertiles lamenting about how strangers are always asking them if they have kids. This happens in places where you might expect it -- the park or the baby clothes section of a store -- and when you don't -- while you're getting coffee or having your hair done. I don't have this problem. Seriously, nobody EVER asks me if I have kids. Do I just not give off maternal vibes, or am I so unapproachable people are afraid to ask me about anything?

I was chatting with one of my single girlfriends the other day, she said people ask her all the time if she has kids while she's at the grocery store, but that could be tied to the fact that she eats like a 10 year-old boy. Cap*n Crunch and chocolate milk doesn't exactly scream Executive. She said its because I don't look like a Soccer Mom, or the haggard Mom of an infant for sure, I'm always so put together. That's part vanity and part circumstance, but she has a point, I don't own a velour tracksuit and I almost never go out of the house without make-up and my hair in a ponytail with baby spit-up on my shoulder. I figure if I'm going to put in my contacts I might as well spend another 5 minutes to put on a bit of make-up and brush my hair.

Still, I wonder if its my appearance or something deeper.

For those of you dying to know how that copper satin gown looked on a real live me, here you go, and a bonus shot of Mister GQ in his new three-piece suit. The party was the same as it always is, but they had a passable Australian shiraz for me to drink and that helped immensely.

Seven

2005-12-14T14:14:00.000-08:00

This has been around for a while, but since I was tagged by Avonlea I thought, what the heck, anything to get out of working from home.

Seven things to do before I die (not in order of priority):
1. Visit my Dad's family's land in Northern Ireland
2. Write a novel (and hopefully get it published)
3. Meet my husband's son
4. Go back to Paris
5. Learn to ski
6. Open a dog park
7. Pay off a mortgage

Seven things I cannot do:
1. Sew
2. Speak a foreign language
3. Throw a frisbee
4. Drive a stick shift
5. Scuba dive
6. Walk past a dog without petting it
7. Vote in the U.S. (I'm a Canadian citizen)

Seven things that attract me to my spouse (in random order):
1. His small perfect ears
2. His eyes
3. His flat little butt
4. His compassion
5. His ability to cry
6. His goofiness
7. His love of animals

Seven things I say most often:
1. Love you more
2. Bonus
3. Holy crap
4. What's up with that?
5. Silliness
6. Alert the media
7. Hello?

Seven books (or series) I love (in random order):
1. The Time Traveller's Wife
2. The God of Small Things
3. The Phantom Tollbooth
4. Outlander
5. The Autobiography of Henry VIII
6. The Crimson Petal and the White
7. Atlas Shrugged

Seven movies I watch over and over again (in random order):
1. The Princess Bride
2. An American in Paris
3. Amadeus
4. Chocolat
5. Sixth Sense
6. Dangerous Liaisons
7. The English Patient

I'm not going to tag anyone specifically, but if you want to leave in the comments any interesting tidbits about yourself, that would be cool.

Here's a lovely song I just found, and since its almost technically winter, its another gift to you.
Sarah McLachlan - Song for a Winter's Night Mp3

Raising a Glass

2005-12-12T14:24:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, yesterday was the Bay Area IF Blogapalooza luncheon. Truly a wonderful experience, somehow 4 hours wasn't enough so most of us found another venue and continued for another couple of hours. When I left there were still a half a dozen out of a total of 17 I believe. Although many of the stories were heart-breaking, and heart-breakingly similar to each other, this was far from a pity party. Instead, for the most part the room was booming with raucous laughter and animated conversation. I'm sure the restaurant was glad they agreed to put us in a private room!

Between the mall aversion, the warmish weather and the moratorium on decorating the homestead this year, I still cannot get into the holidays. A huge part of this is the fact that I am agnostic, and let's face it, Christmas in America is really about two things: religion and shopping. Christmas music also drives me nuts, its either wholly religious (no pun intended) or insipid. Having said that, here's a little ditty that made even this bitter wretch smile.

The Count - Let it Snow MP3 (right click, Save Target As to save with your music files, or just click on the link to play using RealPlayer or something similar)

We're going to D's company Christmas party on Saturday, and I will be debuting my new holiday outfit. Not only that, we are staying at the hotel after the party so it will be a nice little getaway and we won't have to worry about how much we're drinking. There's something about corporate events that makes me want to drink copious amounts of whatever free swill they are offering. D. also got himself a new suit, I promise if there are any decent pictures of us I will post them, y'all know I am not shy about that kind of thing.

In Flux

2005-12-07T12:59:00.000-08:00

I've been struggling quite a bit lately. I generally feel a sense of dread around the holidays, but this year its even worse than usual. Thank God we have a DVR now so I don't have to watch commercials showing happy families with twinkling lights and rosy cheeks. I'm barely in my 40s and already I feel like a cynical old hag. D and I aren't buying presents for each other this year, and we're forgoing decorating and a tree since we'll be out of town most of Christmas week. I'm not even sending out Christmas cards this year, something I would have found unthinkable just a few years ago. For the first time, there is no hope for "next year" to be the year when we have our child. Even before we started trying, the hope was there for the future.

This may sound strange to some of you, but I honestly think that adopting a child would be a terrible choice for us. Partly because there is history that is painful, but partly because that adopted child would always be a reminder of my infertility, my ultimate failure. So, I am stuck here in this pergatory. I realize its only been a few months since I found out I was perimenopausal and we decided to get off the Baby Train, so I need to cut myself some slack and allow the grieving process to happen without beating myself up. I'm just so tired of being sad and depressed.

We went to see the new sci-fi movie Aeon Flux the other day, part of D's birthday celebration. (BTW, this is what I got him.) Summary: The film, based on the futuristic MTV animated series created by Peter Chung, is set 400 years in the future, when disease has wiped out the majority of the earth's population except for one walled, protected city- state, Bregna, ruled by a congress of scientists. Charlize Theron plays the title role of "Aeon Flux," the top operative in the underground "Monican" rebellion, led by the Handler, played by Frances McDormand. When Aeon is sent on a mission to kill the government's leader, she uncovers a world of secrets, which makes her question everything she thought she knew.

SPOILER ALERT! If you plan on seeing this movie you might want to stop reading now, although this particular fact doesn't give away the ending or any of the plot twists. I knew absolutely nothing about this movie except that Charlize wears a skin-tight catsuit for most of it (and even less sometimes), and I was surprised to discover that the essence of the conflict in the story revolves around infertility. Global infertilty, in fact. There's just no getting away from it, the continuation of the species is the most important medical/scientific/biological concern, and I was not able to do my part. Its not even about the baby anymore, I love my cushy life and all my free time and sleeping in -- its about the failure.

Anonymity

2005-12-03T12:38:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot the past few weeks about the idea of anonymity in Bloglandia, particularly for IF bloggers. I see a lot of different flavors of it. There are those that use pseudonyms, never post pictures, don't reveal where they live and generally do everything possible to obscure their true identity. There are those that use a pseudonym but have posted pictures of themselves. And there are those (like me) that use their real name, post pictures and reveal at least their general location.

We all know the story of Dooce and how she got fired for blogging, even though she wasn't blogging directly about her employer. [If I got that wrong, let me know, as this was before I entered the blogosphere.] Most blogs, but especially IF blogs, are highly personal and contain information that we would not disclose to anyone, save perhaps our closest friends in real life. So, I completely understand why some wish to remain anonymous.

My question is this: if someone you knew from any segment of your life were to stumble across your blog, wouldn't they be able to recognize you? Perhaps not if noone in your life knew of your IF struggles, but invariably some other little snippet of information gets included that might give you away. Like, we just got back from vacation, or DH's mother was here for a visit, or my niece just had a baby.

Granted, I have not been the victim of many trolls, and noone that I did not want to read my blog has found it (that I know of, anyway), so I am sure I would feel differently if I had been hurt profoundly by being "outed".

I don't want to be misconstrued here. I fully and completely support anyone's decision to remain anonymous, and I would never EVER betray someone's trust by providing information to a third party regarding their blog. I suppose I just don't understand how you plan on remaining anonymous indefinitely when you've made your blog public. Although many, many topics I discuss on my blog aren't suitable for public conversations, I am not ashamed of anything I've ever written.

I suppose its too late for me to decide to be anonymous at this point, and maybe I'm being naive. I am interested in different opinions about this. Please tell me why you have chosen to be out or in.

The Power of Two

2005-12-02T13:54:00.000-08:00

Today is my husband's birthday. At the risk of spreading a thick layer of feel-good-goo, I'm going to take this opportunity to say a few words about him and us.

In spite of what you would expect to find, the vast majority of infertiles have really good marriages or relationships, and I'm no different. I suppose this is the kind of thing that could bust apart a union, so if you make it through this you know you've got a keeper. We've had so many opportunities in our life together that have had the potential for disaster, but all the adversity has just brought us closer.

His name is Devin; it means "poet" in Gaelic, and hearing it said aloud still shoots electricity through me. I suppose that could be because for so long it was a forbidden name. When we met I had been married less than a year and, at 25, was already terribly unhappy. [Was I really only 25?] Within 6 months he had fallen in love with me, told me so and embarked on a trying 5 year odyssey of waiting while I extricated myself from a complicated, doomed marriage.

Obviously, patience is one of his many virtues. He is an accomplished musician, plays the guitar and the drums; writes poetry (he wrote a haiku for our engagement announcement); can fix or do anything around the house, from the computer to the plumbing; drive any kind of vehicle; is working on his black belt in Aikido; loves animals of all kinds, is sweet, funny, good-looking, and likes to cook. What's not to love?

We have the same initials. Anyone who knows us would recognize the DH2 moniker. Not "two people with the same initials", rather, DH squared, DH to the power of two (see my blog URL).

The other day he gets on IM and sends me a big smile emoticon. "Why so happy?", I write back. "Married to you", he replies. This kind of thing is a normal, everyday occurance. If it weren't so heartfelt it would be annoying. OK, it might be annoying if you were sitting next to us and we were having this conversation, but only because you would be jealous.

We celebrate our anniversary every month, so today is a doubly special day since its also a "monthiversary". I got him a really cool present, but I can't tell you what it is yet, since he might read this. I'll tell you soon, but its REALLY cool.

This one's for you, baby. I love you.

Etta James -- At Last Mp3

Drug Store Angst

2005-11-30T16:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes its the little things...I was in the drug store picking up a prescription today and on every aisle, my eyes were being drawn to baby and TTC-related stuff. Oh, there are the OPKs, and the FM sticks and thermometers. Over here is diaper cream and children's Tylenol and those little rubber thingies that you use to get snot out of your kid's nose. *sigh* Some days these things exist without calling attention to themselves, and some days they are vivid and seem to throw little tentacles out to trip me.

Last weekend on our walk with the dogs we passed a huge number of families and Moms with strollers out for their own walks. At least once or twice (as usual) I made eye contact with a Mom with a small child and we exchanged looks of envy. She for my dogs, me for her baby. One of those voices I have in my head wants to say, "Hey, wanna switch?", but I manage to stifle her. Its never going to be 100% OK, is it?

What's it all about?

2005-11-27T13:27:00.000-08:00

This is a bit of a take-off on Julianna's latest post, it got me thinking about the state of my own blog. I've talked about this before, about not knowing where I fit in now that we are off the Baby Train. I've come to the place where I'm OK with still including myself in the world of IF blogs. Once infertile, always infertile, and that would be true even if we had a baby. If I had cancer, then went through treatment and were now cancer-free, that wouldn't mean that I never had cancer.

Having said that, I sometimes feel the pressure to include things IF-related in my posts, even if its just every once in a while, otherwise I will lose those readers. I probably have lost some anyway, those looking for blood test results and 2 WWs aren't going to find them at WTLB anymore.

I blog mostly for myself, although I have to admit that I love the feeling of knowing there are people out there reading what I write. I've always thought I would write a book one day and this is as close to being a published author as I'm bound to be for a while. I love comments but don't "need" them, although most of the time I feel compelled to leave a comment if I read someone else's blog. Like Julianna, I find it troubling that someone would take the time to come and read and find the blogger in a crisis and just click through. I realize some commenters are concerned about their own anonymity, but you can comment anonymously, at least on my blog you can.

I am still working on the name change idea. While searching for graphics ideas I am across the piece of art below. Its called "Birth Machine" by H.R. Giger. I found it to be compelling, stunning, horrific, amazing. Your thoughts?

Question...

2005-11-22T12:09:00.000-08:00

Did anybody download the song from the last post? I'm just curious. I often think of songs that would be a good accompaniment to posts and wonder if people would download and listen to them. Let me know, won't you?

Seaside Rendezvous

2005-11-20T12:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we took the dogs for their favorite walk along the waterfront, with trips on the way out and way back to the dog park. Although I love the ocean and cherish the time together with all my "boys", the park is a bittersweet place for me now. This is where we would talk about deciding to try, then talk about our feelings while in the trenches, and finally, where we talked about stopping treatment. I resent infertility burrowing its way into what used to be a completely joyous ritual. Despite this, the day was a gift from the weather gods, temperature in the low 80s, just a hint of a sea breeze and swells big enough to bring the surfers out. Not bad for mid-November.

Queen - Seaside Rendezvous - MP3

Holiday Shopping & Baking

2005-11-18T14:19:00.000-08:00

I'll start with the baking. I am not a good cook, and I would never, ever, consider myself to be a baker, but I do love to mix things together in a bowl and end up with something yummy. This is a delightful combination of my favorite and D's favorites: Pecan Pumpkin Pie. What could be better?

The fine people at Continental Mills bring you this scrumptuous blend of the best of the Thanksgiving flavors. The recipe is on the box, or you can find it here if you want to see how breathtakingly easy it is.

Recently Ollie was lamenting the approaching gift-buying season. As my early gift to you I've come up with a few ideas.

1. Fertility Spells. Most of them are relatively easy, although one involves turning a watermelon into a candle with 7 pennies buried inside that I don't understand. Here's one that doesn't require any props:

PREGNANCY SPELL

(Repeat to the east, west, north and south.)

"To you my child, my body is open.

To you my child, my mind is open.

To you my child, my heart is open.

By Earth, Fire, Wind, and Sea,

Into my arms you will be."

(Last two lines are said while looking at your cradled arms).

The best part is, they're all free! But you can make a donation if you wish to Khakani. [I wonder how much money he/she makes from this site?]

2. Fertility Jewelry. There is a wide variety of bling available to help you with whatever ails you in this department. Here are a couple of my personal favorites.

Silver sperm nuzzling into rose quartz eggs, how proud would you be to have these beauties dangling from your ear lobes?

This is a cycle tracking bracelet. Just move the colored beads around to match your cycle (which is the same every month, natch), so you can have the metaphysical powers of the various stones aid you during the different phases. Ovulation Day is marked by the silver bead. What could be easier?

The two lovely items above are available at La Belle Dame, which breathlessly boasts its products are currently featured in Conceive Magazine! Well then, they must work.

Here's a couple pieces for those of you with tastes that run a little more unconventional.

This is a reproduction of a Roman phallus, in 14k gold no less, "a symbol of the God Mutunus". Holy crap, that made me laugh.out.loud. The site also says "the backside of pendant shows testicles and phallus veins." Um...ewww.

Sorry about the graininess but I had to enlarge the picture enough so you could see that, yes, this is a silver ring of a lady and her man doin' it doggy style. A conversation-starter for sure.

The above two items can be found at Capricorn's Lair.

I suppose in a weird way this could be construed as fertility jewelry...for those times when you are giving your cervix a break and REALLY mean it:

As far as chastity belts go, I think this is the loveliest I've ever seen. Not that I'm an expert or anything. The fine folks at the Lilith Gallery put together this article with links to places where you can purchase all manner of stuff for your naughty bits.

3. Purses, bags and pillows. This is the piece de resistance folks.

These next few pictures are from the Velvet Vulva collection. Who doesn't want to show their pussy to the world?

This one comes with a multi-faceted clitoris. I had no idea this was even possible.

Here's one of the pillows. I'd love to say something witty here but I'm just stunned.

There's a lot more variety than I can show you here, including a hat (?). Be warned, if you visit The Velvet Vulva be prepared: inexplicably, a really terrible Musak version of "Whiter Shade of Pale" plays over and over. ~shudder~

What's that you say? Not all of the people on your gift list are infertile or even female? Oh well then, a gift card is always the answer. Happy shopping.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

2005-11-13T15:09:00.000-08:00

Kind of a mish-mash today...I'm thinking about changing the name of my blog. Has anyone else done this? I'm not changing the URL, since that's not the same as the name anyway, but I'm wondering if it will cause problems for my regular readers. Not that "Words to Live By" is a terrible name, it's just not very creative and doesn't have anything to do with my life and what I've lived through. I won't tell you the proposed new name just yet, I want opinions on changing first.

I'm going to leave up my pictures for another day or two then I will take them down. I've been invited to the Bay Area Infertileblogapalooza (not sure if its safe to call it the First Annual or not), and I want those I'm about to meet have a peek at the goods first.

I have Site Meter, as most of you do (or another similar counter), and I've just recently gotten around to looking at the information on my readers. I've had quite a few hits from places like Argentina and Serbia, but most of the hits from the non-English speaking countries are for the MP3s that I've posted. Hopefully somebody looking for Madonna stuck around to read about me. I'd love to know who my faithful reader from Regina is, any chance you can delurk and leave a comment, or email me?

I had another job interview last week, it initially felt eerily like the last interview situation, and we all know how well that turned out. So, I was very aggressive in both my salary requirement (way beyond the range, apparently), and in my stand that I didn't need or even really want this job as it meant giving up independent consulting. I had both people I interviewed with agreeing that I had a sweet set-up and I would be crazy to give it up without a big(ger) paycheck. I even had the balls to offer my services as a consultant if they didn't make me an offer or I didn't accept it if it was made.

I learned my lesson this last go-around, so while I am waiting for an answer on that FT opportunity I am going ahead and taking on a second consulting client. Hey, mama needs a new dress for holiday parties! I'll keep y'all posted.

Glacial PJs

2005-11-05T14:18:00.000-08:00

I have to admit that checking my blog and finding all these old pictures of myself is a tad disconcerting, but I will leave them up for a little while longer.

I want to draw your attention to Salon.com's new "women's blog", Broadsheet. I've been a Salon fan for a while, and now I am hooked on this new addition. You might have to watch a short commercial to enter if you don't have a subscription, but I don't mind. For those of you that don't want to do that, here's a recent submission in its entirety:

Glacial pajamas for the menopausal
I get weird press releases. The one I received yesterday arrived under the subject line "Nightwear for Hot Flashes/Night Sweats" and was about a company called Wildbleu. "HOW COOL IS THIS?" began the release. "Performance PJs Take On Hot Flashes and Night Sweats." Apparently this company -- Wildbleu -- has decided to tap into "one of the market's largest growth segments -- baby boomer women who are pre- and post-menopausal, and thus candidates for the hot flashes and night sweats that go with the territory."

Yay! A generation of women are now menopausal! Let's sell them stuff!

The sleepwear is made of Dri-release, a wicking fabric that draws moisture away from skin and to the surface of the garment, where it evaporates. The pj's, a cotton-polyester blend, have "a soft feel" that makes them "exquisitely comfortable to sleep in." They were invented by Helen Rockey, who made running shoes, and then wicking T-shirts for marathoners, and then used the Dri-release for menopausal women and those undergoing chemotherapy.

But here's the thing that really stuck out about this press release: The new line of Wildbleu garments -- gowns, tees, boxers and capri pants with a short flutter hem -- is called the "Glacier Pansy Collection." Whose idea was it to call a clothing line aimed at menopausal women "Glacier Pansy"? And does that person also write for the Onion?

-- Rebecca Traister -- [17:41 EDT, Nov. 3, 2005]

There's lots of other good stuff there too. Happy reading.

In news about me (and let's face it: it's all about me), I've had a good couple of days. Thursday I went to visit my friend T., she offered to be a surrogate for us then changed her mind, now she has a 2 month-old baby girl and a 2 year-old boy. The boy looks like his Dad and the girl looks like her Mom, perfect, happy children. I played with them, held the baby, all that stuff, and you know what? I was perfectly OK with it all. Never felt one pang of jealousy or sadness or anything, just enjoyed them. WTF? As I was leaving I hugged her and told her she'd done good - again - but I couldn't resist leaving her with these last words: But I still hate you. She knows me well enough to be OK with me saying that.

Friday I went to the gym, I haven't been in about a month what with being sick and all the other craptastic-ness that's been going on. I usually do between 2.75 and 3 miles on the elliptical but I lost steam at about 2.50 miles, still pretty good. Then the ab crunches and the weight machines. Best of all, my weight has come back down to within a couple of pounds of my goal, I guess being sick helped.

Today I visited the convalescent home with my dog, the residents were in good spirits and Bailey got lots of love.

After months of feeling like Bad Luck Schleprock, I feel like I'm coming out from under a dark cloud. Join me in the sunshine, won't you?

Metamorphosis

2005-11-03T14:05:00.000-08:00

Recently Sher asked the question: Do you feel attractive? I'm not embarrassed to say that most of the time, I do. I will add the caveat that this is a fairly new phenomenon with me, slowly coming into frame since I met D. about 15 years ago. He has whittled down the self-loathing of my physical appearance so much that now it's almost (dare I say it?) self-esteem. Even in the face of infertility, my nemesis for the past 5 years, when I look in the mirror more often than not, I think - Damn! Not bad for a 41 year-old. Sure, I wish my nose were smaller and my boobs were bigger, I'm no narcissist, but overall I am happy with my looks. I still have a long ways to go about feeling good on the inside, but hey, it's a start. I was blessed with a small frame and a fast metabolism, relatively clear skin and proportioned features. I believe most people think I am attractive because I remind them of someone else, sort of a generic look (in a good way).

I know a lot of people have a thing about anonymity on the web, but I really don't have this issue. D. and I have a website where we post pictures of ourselves so our family and friends can keep up with our lives, and both he and I are members of online communities using our real names. The only person I really wouldn't want to find this blog is my Mother, and she doesn't even have a computer or even know what a blog is, so I think I'm safe.

I prefaced with all that because I am going to post a series of pictures of myself showing the metamorphosis from a caterpillar to the butterfly I am today. (I'm trying real hard here to be upbeat, I wanted some lightness on my blog after all the heaviness lately.) [Photos and captions removed.]

Working Hour

2005-10-30T14:55:00.000-08:00

Thanks for all your comments. I have felt cursed all my life, at least with regard to my sexuality. There's still a little part of me that believes I'm not done with the bad news yet and that someday I will be diagnosed with cancer of either the breast, the uterus, cervix or ovaries, even though there is no history of any type of cancer in my family. That just feels like my luck.

As far as family goes, I have my mother-in-law, who is sweet and supportive, but...she is 83 years old and just doesn't understand a lot of what goes on in the world. D's brother and sister and their families are near-by, but we don't see each other often and we don't have the kind of relationships that lend themselves to intimate conversations. I have found surrogate family, if you will, in the parents of D's best friend, to the point where they refer to themselves as "Mom and Dad" in birthday and Christmas cards, and we are invited to all of their family functions, but again, we don't often have the opportunity to really talk. I do volunteer with my dog at a nursing home and have my favorite residents. Although this makes me feel as if I am doing someone some good, these relationships are not intimate either. So -- I have my close friends and all of you out there in Bloglandia.

Right now a lot of my sadness comes from losing touch with my sexuality. D and I are very loving, gentle and sweetly close, but really since we stopped ART in February, we haven't been sexual. I'm sure he's probably waiting for me to give him a signal that it's OK, and we have taken long breaks like this in the past. It just doesn't seem that important to either of us. We haven't been able to make that leap from having sex on a schedule in order to get pregnant to just making love. I'm sure it will pass -- I feel broken and damaged and that's just not conducive to feeling sexy. I'm in the process of making a CD of sexy music, maybe that will help.

I'm glad October is over, this has been a craptastic month on the job front (hence the post title, yet another old Tears for Fears song). I told you about not being able to do a lucrative speaking engagement in Boston because I was too sick, that was the first thing. I interviewed at a very high profile and famous high-tech company in Silicon Valley early in the month. They called me, and I was the first interview they did, I thought it went very well. A few weeks later I got a call from a company who wanted to hire me as a consultant through the end of the year, filling in the free days when I wasn't working for my long-term client. I pushed them off as I wanted to give first priority to the FT job opportunity. After not hearing anything for over three weeks, I sent a polite message explaining my situation and could they tell me if they had made a decision. Nothing. At the end of the week I sent another message, this time copying the manager of the group. Still nothing. FINALLY, on Friday I got a call from a smarmy HR person who told me they had hired someone who was "firing on all cylinders". WTF? So, I'm firing on one cylinder and look like a clunker that's been parked beside the shed too long? Asshole. All he had to say was they hired another candidate. OK, whatever. So I call the company back about the other consulting job and of course, they had just signed on with an agency to fill the position. Fuck.

So this weekend I've eaten at great restaurants twice, indulged in gelato and seen the new Zorro movie. It was exactly the movie I thought it was going to be, which was just fine, I didn't have to think too much.

Woman in Chains

2005-10-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

It’s been over two months now since I decided to stay on BCPs and vowed to you all to try to move forward and be happy with the life I’ve got. Yeah, right. Instead I’ve spent the last two months in exactly the same spot as I was before, with a trip to Hawaii thrown in.

While we were in Hawaii I broke down twice. Granted, the first time was after an exhausting hike over lava fields that to me were the embodiment of my endometriosis-scarred insides, and after the novacaine gel I had slathered on my sunburned legs had worn off. I don’t have an excuse for the second time, it was just the culmination of sadness I’d been carrying around.

Which brings me a book review. (Huh? Don’t worry, I do have a point here.) I just finished reading Shade by Neil Jordan, the writer/director of The Crying Game and The End of the Affair. Synopsis from Amazon: Neil Jordan's Shade is the story of Nina Hardy, who, as we find out at the beginning of the book, has been murdered by her childhood friend, George. The story revolves around a group of childhood friends, their journey through childhood, adolescence and their inevitable drifting apart, and ultimately leading to the reason for the gruesome murder. The narrator is the shade of the title, the ghost of Nina Hardy. This is not so much a book review as a spoiler, as I’m going to tell you the reason for the murder: abortion. I liked this book and I would recommend it, but for me the ending just stuck in my head; that 20 years after the fact the discovery of the death of an unborn child could turn a gentle man into a murderer.

For the past couple of years I’ve been reading books and warning others in my reviews when there are elements of infertility in the story, but in reality I can’t think of one single book I’ve read (maybe ever) that didn’t somehow include at least one of these things: abortion, miscarriage, infertility, pregnancy, childbirth, death of a child, parenting, etc. My point is, the family is the fundamental cornerstone of our society, our world, and those of us who struggle with infertility or the loss of a child can’t be shielded from this reality in fiction any more than we can in real life.

So once again I am making a promise to myself to TRY to let go of my painful and soul-sucking past, live in the present and look to the future with guarded optimism. Here are the things I cannot change about my past, my present and myself:
** I am an incest survivor
** My brother, my abuser, is dead and this issue will never be resolved between us
** I am a rape victim
** I had an abortion
** My mother is mentally ill and I will never have the relationship I want with her
** I have 4 chronic and incurable diseases: arthritis, herpes, anxiety/depression & endometriosis
** I married a man even though I knew it was wrong
** I committed adultery
** I will never be pregnant, have a baby or be a mother

I cry every time I hear the old Tears for Fears song “Woman in Chains”, when they get to the line “Well I feel - deep in your heart there are wounds time can't heal”…I’m not sure how to heal these wounds or even if that’s possible, but I’m hanging onto the ending refrain:

so free her – so free her

Tears for Fears - Woman in Chains mp3

Discuss Amongst Yourselves

2005-10-26T11:29:00.000-07:00

I'm working on an important post that is taking some time, so while you breathlessly await my next entry I'll leave you with something completely different to discuss: the point of view from the other side.

The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement

Lullaby of Broadway

2005-10-23T12:40:00.000-07:00

I wish I was kidding about this, but I'm not.

Yes, it's Infertility, the musical. Specifically, “Infertility: the musical that’s hard to conceive”. I can hear the groaning in Bloglandia from here. However, there is a connection to INCIID...here's part of an article on their website:

OH NO !!! Another show using “infertility as entertainment. . . And coming directly on the heels of the insensitivity of the TV series Inconceivable!!! Yes -- However “Infertility: the musical that’s hard to conceive”, written and composed by Chris Neuner follows the compelling, poignant and heartfelt true-life stores of five “would-be” parents. By telling his own story, a single professional woman trying to adopt and a lesbian couple seeking the perfect sperm donor, Infertility: the musical that’s hard to conceive makes a very good start at removing the terrible stigma and taboo surrounding infertility. If ever there is a chance for those who don’t understand the pain to become sensitized to it, this play just may be the ticket they need. If you want to help those without infertility experience to have just a taste of the anguish, send them!

Discounts are available to donating members of INCIID.

Here's the official website. Anybody living in NYC willing to go and check this out and report back to us?

Slave to the Rhythm

2005-10-22T17:38:00.000-07:00

One important thing in my life I hardly ever discuss here is music. I've always loved to dance so music has always been close to my heart, but since I got my iPod and discovered digital music, well -- my life changed, for the better. I get bored easily listening to an entire CD by one artist, so having a digital library perpetually set to play songs in random order is simply heaven.

Recently I've heard (and downloaded) most of the new Depeche Mode CD "Playing the Angel". The first single, Precious, is my favorite so far.

I've also heard the first single, Hung Up, from Madonna's new CD "Confessions on a Dance Floor". I must confess I love the old Madonna dance classics, so I like this too.

Obviously these are both artists who were big in the 80's -- oh dear, is my age showing? Oh, what the heck, download them both on me. (Right click on the link and Save Target As, put it where you put your other music files.) Let me know what you think.

Depeche Mode - Precious - mp3
Madonna - Hung Up - mp3

Chemically Speaking

2005-10-19T18:27:00.000-07:00

This is completely random but I cannot believe that I did not know this until the other day...

"Chemical castration" means injecting male pedophiles with Depo-Provera (or sometimes Lupron).

I just found this astounding, that I had never heard of this drug used in this way. Creepy.

Thank you for all your comments about my Aunt and that whole situation. I have the phone number for her care-giver but haven't called it yet. I want to talk to my Dad first to find out some more information. How does one go about establishing a relationship with someone who can't speak, hear or see? I want to find out how she communicates with others and how much she understands about the world. I want to write her a letter that could be translated into Braille (does she read Braille?) or at least palm-signed to her, but I don't know what to include or exclude. Does she know enough about the world to understand California? The next time I go home I will make every effort to meet her, that I know.

To be fair to the rest of my family, I don't have a good sense of who visited her or how often, other than my grandmother. I've known of her existence since my mid-teens, and it wasn't until now that I felt compelled to know her, so don't think of me as some saint.

I'm still fighting this cold and I'm damned tired of it. It's making me depressed. I'm still waiting to hear back about the job I interviewed for three weeks ago, while my horoscopes keep telling me that big changes are about to come, so I am trying to be patient. Meanwhile, I feel like crap.

Back to Life

2005-10-17T14:07:00.000-07:00

I've been sick. Just a very bad cold, but bad enough to take me out of commission for a solid week. Bad enough to force the cancellation of a lucrative speaking engagement on the other side of the country. Bah. Cliches exist for a reason, and I'm here to tell you, if you've got your health, that's more than half the battle. Obviously I've had my share of dealing with my body failing me on the fertility front, but I cannot even imagine what it must be like to be battling a serious illness. All else falls to the wayside. Bills. Housework. Personal hygiene. Job. Blog.

I'm going back to work tomorrow, with my raspy cough and dripping nose, feeling 200% better than I did a few days ago. I finally went to the doctor on Thursday to rule out strep (negative). All this is mind-numbingly boring, so I will stop talking about my cold now.

Perhaps partly due to my reduced state of caring about anything, I'm less than excited to tell you that my Aunt has been found. Once I got the key piece of information to my family from the survivor's group of the institution, all it took was a couple of emails and a couple of phone calls. If anybody else cared half as much about this as I do, then maybe I would be more excited. I feel like I bullied them into finding her. I have a tiny bit of information, she is in poor health but still "feisty" according to her caregivers, and her location. I don't know if she has been told that her family was looking for her, or anything else. I've been told we can get her records from the institution, but I'm beginning to have second thoughts about pushing to get them requested. Isn't that an invasion of privacy? I am curious in a morbid and angry sort of way, as I can't really imagine what life for a deaf and blind woman was like, let alone a life in an institution.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

2005-10-09T12:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the unfairness and cruelty of the world is too much to bear. And I'm not talking about this or this or even this (warning, this last link will break your heart).

Recently I've had three friends contact me with very bad news.

First, two of the therapy dogs that visit either a homeless family shelter or a retirement home with me and my dog have been diagnosed with cancer. Sydney the gentle Rottweiler has bone cancer and had to have one of her hind legs amputated, she's on chemo and is making good progress, but isn't out of the woods yet. Kozmo the lovable Bernese Mountain Dog has terminal liver cancer and had to resign from the organization. I'll never see him again. Yesterday I went to the shelter and it just wasn't the same without him.

Then, a couple days ago one of our closest friends told us he had been mugged on the streets of San Francisco by three thugs. He suffered a broken nose, several broken bones in the various bone groups around his right eye and cheek, as well as some relatively permanent nerve damage which has caused numbness in the right side of his face; surgery is scheduled for this week. For all that they got a valise that didn't even include his wallet or a laptop.

So let me get this straight: 1. vicious dogs that attack people are fine but therapy dogs get cancer and 2. sweet men without a violent bone in their body get several of them broken while walking home from work? Something isn't right.

Volcano & Animal Friends

2005-10-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

Are you getting sick of Hawaii pics yet? I promise, there are only a few more I'll post here.

D. and I about to start the lava hike

Recent lava flow. I kept thinking to myself, "I bet this is what my endo-encrusted reproductive system looks like." I know, I'm weird.

Steam rises as hot lava hits the ocean, we are about 2 miles from the lava flow.

Geckos love jam

Spinner dolphin

Very friendly sea turtle

Cruise ship heads into the sunset

If you would like to see all the pictures (hundreds & hundreds), email me and I will send you the Shutterfly link.

Damn Subconscious

2005-10-03T12:02:00.000-07:00

Lest you think that I am sitting here basking in the afterglow of vacation bliss, here is the other crap that's going on right now:

1. I got fed up with the complete lack of response from my family regarding finding my Aunt, so I went ahead and sent a message to the contact person from the survivor's group of the institution. He replied while we were in Hawaii with some good information on where to start the process and offered to help the family get her files. I forwarded this information to my family and told them I thought it best someone in Canada take it from here but to keep me in the loop. As of this minute, complete and utter silence in response.

2. I had a job interview last week. Once again, I got an email while in Hawaii about a position at yet another company that I've been trying to get into forever. The interview went very well; if they decide to fill the position with a senior person (as opposed to a more junior person they could train), then I suspect that I will be the front-runner. I believe this would be a good change for me, but I hate change. So, naturally I am already freaking out about something that may or not happen and won't be resolved for at least a month.

3. I am having dental nightmares, literally. I wake up in a panic believing I am sitting in the chair, smelling that mix of sterility and metal that only exists in their offices. I called my dental insurance this morning and they told me I would have to get a new pre-authorization for the silver crowns I need replaced if I want it done by a different dentist, and that takes about 30 days. I just can't go back to the office I went to before, I don't trust them after what happened. I've decided to try out my husband's dentist (a woman), and I need to call her to make a consultation appointment to get the ball rolling. Just thinking about calling makes me want to throw up.

4. I'm still peeling like a snake and my left big toe is the color of eggplant. Nice.

And how is your week going?

Coffee and a Snack

2005-10-01T11:58:00.000-07:00

Kona coffee berries

Breadfruit is good for breakfast

Fresh coconut, anyone?

Bananas snug in a bunch

Avocado on a 100-foot tree

Unearthing the kalua pig at a luau

Beach Reading

2005-09-30T15:27:00.000-07:00

I tried to post some more pictures but Blogger wouldn't let me. Grrrr. Does anybody know if there is a limit on bandwidth or some other restriction?

In the meantime I'll give you my latest book review. While we were there I read The Children of Men by P.D. James (who is a woman in case you didn't know that). Not exactly the usual beach read, but if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a bit of a book snob. I've never read any of her mysteries and this was a departure from that genre for her. It was written nearly 15 years ago so you may not have heard of it, but since most of you are IF'ers or former/reformed IF'ers, you might be interested in this story.

Synopsis (from Amazon): Near the end of the 20th century, for reasons beyond the grasp of modern science, human sperm count went to zero. The last birth occurred in 1995, and in the space of a generation humanity has lost its future. In England, under the rule of an increasingly despotic Warden, the infirm are encouraged to commit group suicide, criminals are exiled and abandoned and immigrants are subjected to semi-legalized slavery. Divorced, middle-aged Oxford history professor Theo Faron, an emotionally constrained man of means and intelligence who is the Warden's cousin, plods through an ordered, bleak existence. But a chance involvement with a group of dissidents moves him onto unexpected paths, leading him, in the novel's compelling second half, toward risk, commitment and the joys and anguish of love. In this convincingly detailed world--where kittens are (illegally) christened, sex has lost its allure and the arts have been abandoned--James concretely explores an unthinkable prospect. Readers should persevere through the slow start, for the rewards of this story, including its reminder of the transforming power of hope, are many and lasting.

I found the writing to be somewhat stolid and stoic, as one reviewer put it: no emotion please, we're British. I'm used to lavish adjectives and description passages in my reading. It is supposed to take place in 2021 but does not have one word in it about computers or any other technology that didn't exist at the time it was written. Although it was a good story and interesting to me for obvious reasons, I can't in all honesty recommend the book. This may be the first time I've ever said this, but wait for the movie. The good news is, it has the potential to be a good movie.

The director is Alfonso Cuaron, who brought us Y Tu Mama Tambien and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and stars Clive Owen, Julianne Moore and Gary Oldman. Release date is currently scheduled for next September.

Flora

2005-09-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

There were orchids in every room of the house

Nepenthes (Tropical Pitcher Plant), a carnivorous beauty

Banyan tree

Native bromeliad

Huge coleus

I believe this is an African Tulip Tree

Orange hibiscus

Close-up hibiscus, this one was off the back lanai

And so it begins...

2005-09-28T18:02:00.000-07:00

I'm going to post the vacation pictures in groups, there are just too many to try to do justice to any one topic/day/trip to do it any other way. Plus I don't want to crash the servers of those of you using less than T1 lines. So, this first group is the house we stayed at, a private residence that we rented from the owner for the week in Captain Cook, about 10 miles north of Kailua-Kona.

View of the house from the bottom of the yard

Front lanai -- it was pouring when we arrived, the only real rain we had

Back lanai

View from the front lanai

Night view

Master bedroom (same view as from the front lanai)

Master bath

Back from Paradise

2005-09-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

Back at home and happy to see my doggies and not be sweating 24/7. We really lucked out with the weather, they had some severe thunderstorms on other islands and there was even a fatal sight-seeing helicopter crash because the pilot decided to go up even though it was raining heavily.

Overall it was a great trip, we did pretty much everything we wanted to do and even managed to throw in some relaxation time. However, I have a knack for getting hurt on vacation, and this one was no different.

Our first full day we went snorkeling. I cut my left knee on some coral and whacked my left big toe as well. The nail is now purple on the way to black and I'm sure I will lose it. We kayaked across a bay to get to the good snorkeling area and on the way back I didn't put more sunscreen on my legs. By the time we got back to the car (30 minutes or so), my legs were extremely burned. I could actually feel them burning, like an egg frying. I wanted to cut off my legs and be done with it. So the rest of the trip I was dealing with that. The burn gel you can buy there has lidocaine in it but it wasn't even touching it. I saved the good stuff I had bought in Mexico (with novacaine) for the following day when we did the l-o-n-g hike on the lava beds, with jeans on. By the time we finished the hike I had pretty much lost the will to live. Well, almost. It got better day by day and I thought I was out of the woods and was gonna save some of my tan, but alas that was not meant to be. After a day on the beach on Saturday I got water blisters, then I started to peel, from the top of my feet to the tips of my ears. Sigh. Its not pretty.

Once I get the pics off the laptop and on here I'll post a link.

The Countdown Continues

2005-09-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a break from cleaning the house to post one more time before we leave. Our normal dog-sitter is coming to stay for the week so the boys won't be lonely. He lets them sleep with him (as we do), so they are always happy when Uncle D. comes to stay. I already miss them!

This trip still doesn't seem real, maybe it will kick in when we leave the house tomorrow with our suitcases. I just checked the weather on the Big Island and it looks like there will be showers in the mornings most every day (normal), with a temperature range between 70 and 85. Sounds perfect to me, I wilt in too much heat. I may not come back with much of a tan but at least I won't get heatstroke.

I'll leave you with the perfect song to send me off.

The Constant Flower

2005-09-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

One of the ways I've heard to separate types of people is to say some are gardeners and some are flowers. I'm lucky in that my hubby is a gardener and I am a flower (usually, sometimes we switch). Not a fussy, high-maintenance flower like an orchid or a rose, more like a daisy or a chrysanthemum...just give me a little love and I'll continue to bloom for you year after year.

Right now, I'm feeling like someone forgot to fertilize me. (Ha! Sorry for that little Freudian slip there.) I'm that sad, pathetic plant left in a plastic pot outside who only gets water when it rains. Many people in my life are trying to provide comfort and kindness right now, I think I'm just not able to accept it. Several friends have gently suggested I go back to therapy, but I just.don't.want.to.talk.about.it.any.more. I sure as hell don't want to pay $100 an hour to sit there and tell someone else I don't want to talk about it. It's not just ending up childless, it's all the back story -- the sexual abuse, the mentally ill mother, blah blah, I've gone over this ground a million times, I'm not going to "get over it", any more than I am going to get over trying and failing to have a child.

That's the "f" word that everyone keeps telling me I shouldn't use. I failed, ladies and gentlemen, there's no way around it. My friends tell me that saying I failed connotates that it was my fault, which it certainly was not. Perhaps not in any provable way, but it was my body that failed to produce a viable egg that was then fertilized. The only job my reproductive system was designed to do. If it wasn't my organs, then it was my decision to wait until I was 38 to even begin the process.

I've already talked about how I am not sorry that we went down this road, and neither is D., and that's the truth. When we first got together, legitimately, it was after a 5 year struggle, a messy, precarious slope that we nearly slid off of many times. For the next 5 years we were so damn slap happy just to be together the thought of marriage or children or anything except US never entered either of our heads.

I love D. more every day, I know that sounds corny but it's true. That's why this failure is so crushing. I am so lucky. How do I restore some of those feelings from the halcyon US days?

Countdown

2005-09-12T13:33:00.000-07:00

It's only 5 days until we leave on vacation. D. and I are going to the Big Island of Hawaii for a week with our best friends, none of us have ever been to any of the Hawaiian islands. Go figure! We rented a house in a macadamia nut grove outside of Kona, and will be staying in Hilo one night after what promises to be an arduous but beautiful hike on the lava fields of Kilauea, the world's most active volcano. Other than this one scheduled trip we have nothing planned, although we do plan on snorkeling several times. Anybody have any absolute do's and don'ts to pass along? I've already been told to buy Hawaiian souvenirs at Walmart and to be sure to visit Ken's House of Pancakes on the trip between Kona and Hilo or vice versa.

Saw The Constant Gardener last night. Having just finished the book it felt like I had already seen the movie, but its well done and quite moving, shot on location in Kenya (although according to the credits, somewhere in Manitoba substituted for London). A solid B+.

Paying It Forward

2005-09-07T18:29:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year I was sent a Gonal-F multidose pen by a wonderful woman I met on an IF board. We've never met and never spoken on the phone, but when she heard we were struggling to pay for our injectibles cycles because we didn't have insurance, she didn't hesitate to offer her extra drugs. (T.R., if you're reading this, you rock.)

As part of my sputtering attempt to move forward and feel good about my life despite the sometimes crushing weight of failure, I've been wanting to get rid of all my fertility gear. Last week a fellow blogger was lamenting the awful ambiguity of Ovulation Predictor Kits (OPKs) and I offered my Fertility Monitor, in my estimation a much better way to track those precious eggs' movements.

Today I packed up the monitor (which I named Bert for some reason), half a dozen test sticks for it, a digital thermometer, a handful of vials of Pre-Seed, a stack of disposable alcohol wipes (for cleaning injection sites) and the lone pregnancy test I had left in the house. I'm still waiting to feel better; perhaps this is a delayed reaction, like muscle pain after a workout.

If you haven't seen the movie, its worth the rental. Haley Joel Osment will break your heart.

Down Came the Rain

2005-09-06T14:57:00.000-07:00

Our computer crashed at home, otherwise I would have posted sooner. I am very depressed, I feel the same way I felt after 9/11. A great tragedy has occured in the country where I live, but far enough away that I am not touched by it in my daily life. I go about my business, going to work, shopping, working out, maybe even a movie. All the while suffering and heartache and devastation rule an entire region on the other side of the country. And there is very little that I can do to help.

But it's not just the Gulf Coast. There is famine in Niger and surrounding West African countries, gang violence in Guatemala, massive flooding from rainstorms in Central China and hundreds of thousands of people still reeling from the tsunami in Southeast Asia. I realize there has always been and always will be somewhere in the world where people are starving, homeless, dying of preventable diseases and persecuted. I am extremely fortunate to have been born after the last World War and have not lost anyone in my inner circle to current military actions.

We have all seen selfless heroism and selfish criminality in the same block, the extremes of human nature on display. Most of the media has been concentrating on how long it took for the relief efforts to begin and the failures of beaurocracy. Since I have no personal knowledge or experience with disaster relief and were not there, I have tried to keep an open mind. It's been difficult to be a cheerleader for FEMA when the Times Picayune newspaper in New Orleans called for all of it's top officials to be fired in an open letter to President Bush.

Despite all of our faults, human and otherwise, in order to survive as a country, a community and a culture, we need to stop blaming and just get the job done. Maybe for me, that means making as big a donation as I can and just getting on with the living of my life. If you know of a way to do that and not feel guilty, let me know.

How to Help & The Wrath of God

2005-08-31T16:20:00.000-07:00

Many bloggers have posted about Hurricane Katrina and their feelings about New Orleans, Biloxi and Gulfport, and other cities affected. Having never been to this area, now I fear I will never get to see the charm and history of New Orleans. Another good reason not to put off doing the things you always said you would do. Here's an excellent link with information on how to get help and how to give it. Be generous if you can.

Below is an abstract of an audio entry at a popular religious blog site (if you really want to read more about Pat Robertson, email me and I will give you the link). This is just about the most ridiculously scary thing I have ever read. I swear, I did not make this up, its an example of many, many articles and radio/TV programs swirling about at the moment:

This is a series about why God has brought such devastating judgment in the form of Hurricane Katrina on the United States. I'll summarize it here:
A couple of weeks ago the Israeli Disengagement Plan was completed. This Disengagement Plan forced thousands of Jews out of their homes. President Bush and the United States supported this Disengagement Plan.

Now, God has returned a just reward to the United States. The United States government encouraged Israel to move thousands of Jews out of their homes; now tens of thousands of Americans have been forced out of their homes due to Hurricane Katrina. Be not deceived, God is not mocked. For whatsoever a nation sows, it shall reap. The United States sowed the seed of forcing people out of their homes, and now the nation reaps the reward as Americans are forced out of their homes.

But God has used Hurricane Katrina to also bring severe judgment to the United States economy specifically oil and gas prices. Gas prices all across the nation are around $3.00 a gallon now, and supplies are getting low in parts of the nation. This storm has also ruined crops all across the Gulf Coast, and you'll see a rise of prices in grocery stores as well. The United States gave the Palestinians $50 million a couple weeks ago, and now God is damaging the U.S. economy.

Don't get the wrong idea that all this judgment is just over Israel as well. The United States turned its back on God many years ago as this nation now worships money and itself. Millions of innocent babies are murdered each year before they leave the womb, homosexuals are now being allowed marriage in places, the American Christian church is very lukewarm and caught up in the love of money and America as well. God has many, many reasons to destroy this sinful nation, and turning on Israel may have been the "final straw" for the USA.

God is now giving this nation a chance to repent from its sinful ways and turn back to Him. God is also testing this nation to see if we will have compassion and help out our fellow Americans who are in trouble. So we need to pray for the people on the Gulf Coast, and if possible, we need to help them in anyway that we can. God is looking for compassion out of this nation...He didn't see it from most regarding Terri Schiavo, will God see compassion and love now as cities drown and people are left homeless with nothing? God has stepped up the judgment, and this nation can either repent of its sins and turn back to God and get healed, or it can harden its heart and reject God and face more judgment. What will you choose? Your life and eternity depends on it? Do you really want to live without God's protection? So let's get washed in the blood of Jesus and get saved.

Wow. Isn't it amazing that so many people claim to KNOW what God is thinking and why he/she/it does the things he/she/it does? My position as an atheist just got a whole lot stronger. Since I don't believe in Hell I'm not worried, I will continue to support capitalism, women's rights, gay rights, the right to die and all other rights and privileges I currently enjoy.

One more thing: if you can't donate money, donate blood.

TV is my Novacaine

2005-08-29T11:29:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend D. and I went to an anniversary party for his brother and wife. His brother is only 8 years older than D. and has been married 30 years, has a grown daughter and a grand-daughter. Our niece and her friends are the Fertile Girls Network, all of them having at least one child, husbands be damned, and all under 25. They were all at the party with all their children. At one point several little girls were dressed as princesses or fairies, complete with magic wands, wings and tiaras. The little boys were making mud pies and climbing into the ice tubs with the beer. The FGN parenting skills tend to be on the lenient side. Ah, good times.

In the past two weeks, three friends have given birth and another has become pregnant. I'm happy for them all. Really. The couple who live in the yurt next door have a 5 year-old daughter. Her sing-songy voice is the first thing I hear every morning; the sound travels effortlessly through the trees to my bedroom window. I'm surrounded, and I surrender.

Thank God for TV. Honestly there are only a handful of new shows that look like I might be interested in watching, but I’m willing to give almost anything a shot. In the past the shows I watch would have been partly based on when they were on, but now I won’t have to worry about that because we finally got a DVR! Our cable company installed it Friday afternoon. Our current VCR set-up is so complicated that even my computer-geek husband sometimes screws it up and all we get is two hours of static.

In alphabetical order, here’s the new shows I’ll be checking out. (Of course, if they suck, don’t blame me – sometimes my instincts for TV are for shit.)

Bones
Premiere: Tuesday, Sept. 13, 8 pm/ET, Fox
Temperance Brennan (Emily Deschanel) is a forensic anthropologist and part-time crime novelist (the character's based on best-selling author Kathy Reichs). With help from fellow lab geniuses, she unearths evidence from even the most decomposed or damaged remains. FBI guy Seeley Booth (David Boreanaz) often enlists her aid, although he's no fan of science-geek "squints." Headstrong Dr. Brennan insists on joining Booth in the field, but she's a lot less adept with the living than the dead. [I don’t know why I am fascinated with forensic-type shows, but not medical shows (except Gray’s Anatomy, but that barely qualifies). I guess I can’t stand to see live people suffering, but I do love a mystery and to see the bad guys go down.]

Commander in Chief
Premiere: Tuesday, Sept. 27, 9 pm/ET, ABC
When a Republican president dies, his V.P., Mackenzie Allen (Geena Davis), makes history as she is sworn into office. Her résumé: Nobel-winning university chancellor, congresswoman, mother and, yes, an Independent. But everyone, including the president on his deathbed and the power-hungry speaker of the House (Donald Sutherland), wants her to resign. [LOVE Geena Davis and Donald Sutherland, plus this is an idea whose time has come, except not for Hillary.]

Inconceivable
Premiere: Friday, Sept. 23, 10 pm/ET, NBC
And baby makes... money, for the staff of Family Options Fertility Clinic, where therapist/cofounder and single mom Rachel Lu (Ming-Na of ER) clashes with cocky docs Jonathan Cake and Angie Harmon on ethical and legal issues. [OH COME ON! You know you are going to check it out too.]

Kitchen Confidential
Premiere: Monday, Sept. 19, 8:30 pm/ET, Fox
Celebrity-chef Jack Bourdain (Alias' Bradley Cooper) is cooking up a comeback. Having crashed and burned as an overindulgent young star, Jack is given 48 hours to assemble a crew to jump-start a fancy New York City eatery. Jack's short fuse and arrogance, plus his staff's antics could be a recipe for disaster. [I am loving the real Anthony Bourdain’s show on The Travel Channel called No Reservations, so I’ll at least give this a look. Plus Bradley Cooper is really cute.]

Reunion
Premiere: Thursday, Sept. 8, 9 pm/ET, Fox
One of six childhood friends (Will Estes, Chyler Leigh and Amanda Righetti, among others) has been murdered. As a detective (Mathew St. Patrick of Six Feet Under) investigates, the trail takes him back 20 years to the friends' 1986 high-school graduation. Each episode is a flashback to a pivotal point in a different year. The story advances year by year, week by week, until we learn whodunit. [Sort of a rip off on the 24 idea, but Fox has made that work.]

Threshold
Premiere: Friday, Sept. 16, 9 pm/ET, CBS
When a freaky alien object wreaks havoc on a Navy ship in the North Atlantic, the world's sexiest risk analyst (Carla Gugino) puts into action her "threshold" contingency plan for first contact. She assembles a team of eccentric geniuses (Brent Spiner, Peter Dinklage, Rob Benedict) to investigate. What they see, even on video, makes their noses and ears bleed and invades their nightmares, maybe even their DNA. [This could be really bad. Its one of three alien-related new shows – I’m not a big sci-fi fan so this could be a stretch.]

Of course, I will still be watching my old favorites: Alias, Will & Grace, Desperate Housewives, Gray’s Anatomy, 24, The Amazing Race, Lost and Without A Trace. And I wonder why I don’t have more friends in real life. I’m curious, do you watch TV shows that have to do with your real profession? Do you lawyers watch the lawyer shows? Knowing TV, I would think that watching anything to do with something I actually knew anything about would be annoying as hell. Luckily my skills, knowledge base and talents apparently aren’t good fodder for television. Except that Inconceivable show.

P.S. Thanks for all the love -- keep it comin'.

Lack of Contact

2005-08-27T10:25:00.000-07:00

See, this is what I was afraid of...the minute I stopped talking about infertility or my cooter (take your pick, high-brow or low-brow), I would start to lose readers. Or at least commenters. Really, I'm an interesting person despite the fact that I am trying to move forward after years of disappointment and heartache.

No drama, no love?

Meanwhile, in Amsterdam...

2005-08-26T13:06:00.000-07:00

AMSTERDAM, The Netherlands (Reuters) -- Billionaire television producer John de Mol, behind the pioneer show "Big Brother," will test the limits of reality TV with a program in which a woman searches for a potential sperm donor to conceive a child.

His new TV station Talpa, launched earlier this month, confirmed it will air a program called "I want your child ... and nothing else!" but gave no further details about the show due at 1830 GMT on Wednesday.

"The plan is that we visit potential donors and -- of course on camera -- decide which man is most suitable," the 30-year old woman who will feature in the program said in an interview with De Telegraaf newspaper. "Afterwards there will be artificial insemination," said the woman who was identified only as "Yessica" and who has bought a house with a room for a child.

The show is a one-off competing with four other reality TV programs, one of which follows five former prostitutes starting a cafe. The program receiving most votes from viewers on Saturday, after all the shows have aired, will be turned into a series.

De Telegraaf also published an email address for men wanting to donate sperm to Yessica.

Oy. I think I heard about this before but it seemed worth mentioning. Stay tuned for my picks of the best of the new Fall TV shows. Cuz I am all about the info.

News Flash

2005-08-24T11:29:00.000-07:00

I'm doing better, not great, but moving in the right direction, at least today. Spent most of yesterday shopping for new stuff for Hawaii. This was extremely conducive to a better mood, as was the Orange Julius I had at the mall.

There have been a couple of interesting news stories I heard this past week I thought I would pass on to you.

From BBC News: Sperm donors to lose anonymity
Men who father children through sperm donation are to lose their right to anonymity, the government has announced. The changes, which will also apply to egg and embryo donors, will come into force from April 2005, meaning the first time donor children will be able to find out their parent's identity will be in 2023. However, the changes will not be retrospective. Supporters say children conceived this way have a right to information about their genetic parents. But some fertility experts have warned many potential donors may be deterred if they could be identified. Read the rest of the story here.

From San Francisco Chronicle: Court grants equal rights to same-sex parents
The California Supreme Court broke new legal ground for same-sex parents Monday by ruling that lesbian and gay partners who plan a family and raise a child together should be considered legal parents after a breakup, with the same rights and responsibilities as heterosexual parents.
Read the rest of the story here.

Not having any personal experience with either topic, my opinion hardly matters, but as to the first story, I'm inclined to agree that some donors may think twice if they know they might be identified later. The UK already has a shortage, particularly of sperm donors, and this may worsen the situation. The second story seems like a no-brainer to me, but then again, I'm a big fat liberal.

What do you think?

Mountain Climbing

2005-08-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while since I’ve been this depressed. A year, in fact. This is my annual trip into the depths, a self-deprecating pool of shame and guilt that marks what would have been the impending due date of the pregnancy I terminated all those years ago. This year it’s even more gut-wrenching and hollow, knowing as I do that for sure, for sure, that was my one shot at it.

I’m sure because we’ve decided I should stay on the Pill. I think this is the only way that I am going to be able to get past this rough patch. The best that I can hope for is to be happy with the life I’ve got (which is pretty damn good). How can I be happy with my life while I am trying desperately to change it, fundamentally and irrevocably? If I continue to leave the nursery door open, even a crack, I’ll eventually want to open it wider and wider, while reality is pushing to close it. I don’t want this struggle in my life any more. I haven’t been a good wife, sister, daughter, friend, or even employee for quite a while now. As Jenna so nailed it in her comment, I have a lot of life to fill and I don’t want to waste the next 10 years waiting for a train that’s never coming.

Am I sad? Do I feel like a failure? Yes, and yes. This will be a process, with ground gained and slips back, but I have a support system that will allow me to do this, I’m safely bound on this slippery slope by many ropes.

When I questioned my husband whether it would have been better not to have gone down this road at all, he disagreed, saying we are both better people for it, and have a stronger relationship. Whatever my faults, I must have done something right at some point to deserve to have this man in my life.

I mentioned immortality in my last post. I realized later how grandiose that sounded. How many people on this earth actually achieve immortality? How many have it for all the wrong reasons? I have good works still in me, perhaps even a novel or two, and many opportunities left to make a difference. As I thought about this I felt a tectonic shift in my thinking about my husband’s son. Up until now his very name would knot my stomach and overwhelm me with sadness. Now I realize that even though I might never meet him, the fact that he exists means that my husband’s genes will live on for at least one more generation. And that means more to me than I can express.

Here's a song for all of us still trying to find where our soul and our home is.
Nelly Furtado - I'm Like A Bird (acoustic)

P.S. This is not the end of my story, or my blog, not by a long shot.

Reality Bites

2005-08-17T16:51:00.000-07:00

I recently finished having a "deep cleaning" done in my too-small-for-dental-instruments mouth. The technical term is "scaling and root planing", or as I call it "Medieval Torture involving Pointy Things in Your Mouth for Two Hours without Anesthetic".

They want me on a 3-month periodontal maintenance plan. Every 3 months I have to have this done? WTF? She said I have a lot of bleeding in my mouth. Um, bitch, that's because you just scraped and poked at my gums for two hours.

She also said that periodontal disease (disease?? I have a disease now?) is a sign of osteoporosis and I should be taking steps to keep that under control. Yippee. Is this another perimenopausal thing? I've been doing a little research and found out that Clomid (and other fertility drugs) can cause periodontitis, which is the worst kind of gum disease, which I am rapidly moving toward. Great! And, that fertility patients with periodontitis have lower success rates. The classic revolving door.

“The ultimate result of our study is that ‘the drugs used for infertility management may cause and/or worsen gingival problems,'" says Dr. Haytac. "The other statement – poor oral health can negatively affect fertility – is just a suggestion, but it is a very reasonable suggestion. Periodontal diseases are infectious in nature and lead to systemic release of highly pathogenic microorganisms and/or their products.”

I guess that makes sense, if your body is constantly fighting an infection it can’t very well be a comfy place for an embryo, now can it?

This particular dentist (new) is also freaking out about my bottom front tooth because of "bone loss" because of the periodontal disease and says I will need a bone graft so I don't lose the tooth. A BONE GRAFT. Can you say ca-ching? $$$$ Bad teeth are a family trait, this is nothing new, but despite having many different types of procedures done, I am still phobic as hell.

Just thinking about having an upcoming appointment, no matter how far in the future, can send me into a panic. I have two old silver crowns that need to be replaced as well. All of this is going to have to wait until we get back from Hawaii. That’s right folks, we are going on a real vacation. Next month. I’ll keep you posted.

I really need something good to look forward to. Besides being anxious about my teeth (again, or still), I’m depressed. I don't know how to be a person who isn't trying to have a baby. What am I supposed to replace that with that even comes close to being in the same league? The end of my fertility struggle is no less than the end of my quest for immortality.

I'm still having night sweats and endo pain, even on BCPs, although my period has been lighter and on time. I've already wasted six months since our last injectibles cycle failed, and I'm still in the same place, only now add in BCPs just to liven up the party. I feel stuck. I'm scared to get pregnant with my own eggs and would only consider IVF with PGD as a possible safe alternative. But, we have no money and no insurance to do IVF, and its not even on the list of things that we agreed we would try. Adoption is still an alternative but the whole reason both D. and I were willing to go through all this was to have OUR baby. If that makes us selfish, guilty as charged. So I need to just buck up and realize that its never going to happen. But how do I do that??

I can now be around pregnant women and babies and not feel sad or angry, sometimes I even think, "Boy, I'm glad that's not me", I don't know if that's healthy or not. Like Rooshie said, I miss the high of having hope every month, even though I know the disappointment crash at the end of the month will be there. My world is flat and gray. Sorry for being melodramatic, I can't explain it any better than that.

United Nations

2005-08-13T13:18:00.000-07:00

Even in my little corner of the blogosphere, there seems to be a lot of intolerance and downright cruelty lately. Not to me, although I have had a few trolls in my time. I don’t think I’m big enough to warrant the kind of feedback and offline posting that some of the Cool Kids do, but no doubt there are those who have formed an opinion of me based solely on what they’ve read here. As I read other’s struggles, whether that be with infertility, other family issues, illness, financial or otherwise, I am thankful that there are those of us willing to put our lives out there and welcome the world to read about our angst and our joys. I’m not saying that every comment has to consist of “I couldn’t agree more” or “Good luck!” with a big sparkly dose of baby-dust on the side, I just believe we all need to think a little more before we hit that Post a Comment button sometimes.

It’s very easy to judge others, we do so every day. We base our opinions on our own experiences and belief systems, but we have no right to do this. Let me throw out some questions for you.

Would you:

** terminate a pregnancy?
** agree to selective reduction?
** use donor egg or sperm?
** use a surrogate?

Or, let’s broaden the discussion – would you:

** take a loved one off of life support?
** kill someone in self-defense?
** stay with your spouse after an affair?
** be able to cut off a limb in order to free yourself?
** consume victims of a plane crash in order to survive?
** harbor a fugitive?

There are a million more questions like this. All heart-breaking, life-changing, personal decisions. We all think we know what we would do in certain situations, we’ve formed opinions and even plans for events that may happen. In reality, until you are there, you can’t know what you will do or what you are even capable of. So, the answer to all of the above and every question like it is: I DON’T KNOW. Even if you’ve walked in someone else’s shoes, you still don’t have the right to judge them because they made a different decision than you did.

This post isn’t in response to anything in particular, just a feeling that I’ve been having lately. I’ve heard of several bloggers closing down or password protecting their sites, or closing off comments because they can’t bear to be hurt by the words of strangers any more. Sharing our personal stories is what this is all about. Disagreements in a healthy and civilized discussion forum are as helpful as positive feedback, but there is no excuse for hate-speak.

Digging for the Truth

2005-08-08T11:52:00.000-07:00

I sent a couple of family members the details I had uncovered about the institution my aunt lived in, the class action lawsuit and the contact information, and so far, no response. I got a message from my brother yesterday and he didn't even mention it. I haven't heard from anyone else but I strongly suspect that nothing has been done to try to find her. This was my fear. That there is too much guilt or shame or the topic itself is just too uncomfortable for anyone to really delve in and try to find her. I don't want to step on anyone's toes but I think I may have to become the lead in this investigation if its to be successful.

I've always loved history. I am addicted to the History Channel (and now History International too); my favorite show at the moment is Digging for the Truth. It doesn't hurt that the host, Josh Bernstein, is h-o-t.

But mostly I gravitate towards the darker stuff. Hitler, Stalin, serial killers. Man's inhumanity to man. I know I'll never understand it, but I want to. This is what happens when you grow up in an extremely dysfunctional household with a mother who is mentally ill. I truly believe she suffers from Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Fun stuff. The sad thing is that she will never get treatment because the hallmark of this disorder is she believes herself to be superior and special. So why fix what isn't broken? Her complete inability to empathize and her pathological lying make it impossible to discuss anything of substance, which is why she just recently found out about my infertility issues. There's way more here to write about, obviously, but that's enough for today.

I'm still struggling mightily with my own thoughts and ideas about my situation. Every time I get to a place where I think I'll be OK with my life the way it is (i.e. without children), I'll hear or read something that makes me think...wait a minute, maybe, just maybe there is still hope for me. Damn you, Holly Hunter!!

Beyond Belief

2005-08-03T11:32:00.000-07:00

I find it interesting that the further I stray from infertility- or baby-related topics, the fewer comments I get. I hope this isn't a trend. To further test this theory, this post is about movies.

The other day I watched Beyond Borders starring Angelina Jolie and Clive Owen. If you look at the poster you'll see the tag line is "Where hope survives." While this is meant to be both mysterious and intriguing, its actually prophetic. [If you haven't seen this movie and you plan on it, I suggest you stop reading, spoiler alert.] You see, hope survives in the form of a child. A child that is conceived on the ONE NIGHT that the two main characters spend together before one of them dies. This is the same thing that ruined Cold Mountain for me. I realize it helps to put salve on the wound that is inflicted on us when one of the beloved main characters doesn't survive to the credits, but does anyone really believe this is the way things work? Even in times of war? Or am I just bitter and can't suspend my hard-earned reproductive knowledge for the two hours required to watch a movie?

Otherwise, I thought they were both decent movies. There is an especially poignant moment in Borders where Angelina's character is driving through the Ethiopian desert on a truck bringing food supplies to a refugee camp when she spots a baby sitting by itself in the sand being approached by a vulture. She demands the truck stop so she can shoo the bird away and scoops the child up in her arms, saving its life. Spending time in the camps in Cambodia and Ethiopia during the filming of this movie obviously had such a profound effect on her that she adopted children from both countries in real life. You gotta respect that.

And, let's face it, you can't go far wrong with Jude Law and Clive Owen on screen.

Dark Parts

2005-08-01T11:43:00.000-07:00

I’m finally finished with the two-month assignment at the second client I took on. It could go on the books as two of the longest months in recent memory. I’m happy to be out of there, but happier to have my old life back, working part-time and making my own hours at the client I’ve had for over 2 years. Now I can blog more, get back to the gym and have some alone time to reflect and regroup.

I took the last Pill in the first pack yesterday, so I should start in the next couple of days. That last week I was feeling pretty crappy. My doctor made me do a “Sunday start” and I actually started on a Monday, so I took the pills almost a whole week longer than I should have. My poor body was trying like crazy to start and I ended up with some unpleasant side effects that shall go unmentioned, you get the idea.

Although I’m leaning heavily in one direction, I’m giving myself the next month to come to a decision about staying on the Pill. Other than a few casual remarks here and there, D. and I haven’t had The Conversation yet. Thanks to all of you that left comments. Stay tuned.

In the meantime there’s been an un-IF-related post swirling about in my head for a little while. I’m more than a bit hesitant to give details, this IS the internet after all, and I don’t have control over who is reading this and what they do with the information, or how people will react or respond. There’s plenty enough shame and guilt to go around without adding to it by reading a stranger’s cruel comments. On the flip side, you just never know when someone out there will have information that could be helpful, so I’m willing to risk it. Just know that, as usual, any comments I find to be offensive will be deleted, hopefully before anyone else gets to read them.

When S. was born her brothers were 5 and 3. She was born deaf and blind. Before she was 5 the family moved across the country to B.C., and two years later the final child, another boy, was born. It was around this time her parents determined they could no longer provide the kind of care she required with three other small children at home, and decided to put her into a school for the disabled. This institution was the only available choice, unfortunately, since it was primarily a school for the mentally handicapped. At the time a child that was deaf and blind was probably determined to be mentally deficient, although this later proved to be untrue. She lived her entire life at the school and as an adult was moved with other patients into a group home.

S. is my aunt. I never knew she existed until I was a teenager, when I overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear and started asking questions. Her mother visited her, I don’t know how often, and perhaps other family members did as well. After her mother died and she was moved out of the school, the family lost track of her. Now we are trying to find her.

I’ve always wanted to find her, I always wanted to let her know that I think about her often and I love her even though we’ve never met.

My most recent attempts to gather information about the school and how to go about getting information on her whereabouts has gleaned some terribly disheartening information. All too unsurprisingly, a government report from a couple of years ago determined that physical and sexual abuse occurred at the school and that it failed to protect patients and to report abuses that occurred. A formal apology from the government was issued and a trust fund was set up to help former patients. Unfortunately this money has not been distributed as a class-action suit has now been filed and certified by the court. To imagine how her life must have been at the school was bad enough, now to put the possibility out there that she may have been abused as well is almost more than I can bear. What are the chances she completely escaped the systemic abuse in her 40+ years as a resident? There is an organization of former patients (or “survivors” as they call themselves) of the school, we are starting there to see if they can help us to find S., and to determine whether she is part of the class-action. If she was abused then we want to make sure that she is compensated, although that will not be any means make up for the years she spent in this god-forsaken place.

If you want to know more details or think you may have information that could be useful, please feel free to leave a comment and I can correspond with you offline.

I wonder how many other family members have suffered sexual abuse that I don’t know about? It seems to be a family curse, on both sides. Tears are streaming down my face as I write these words…its like infertility – unless you’ve lived it, there isn’t any way to explain how it becomes a dark part of your world. For someone like S., who was born into a world of silence and darkness, I just can’t even imagine the fear and the pain and the shame, the shame that was never hers but that I'm sure she carries nevertheless.

Me vs. The Pill

2005-07-24T12:40:00.000-07:00

Before I begin I'd like to say it’s been a fruitful week in my little village on The Island, my congratulations go out to Panda and to Suz!

As I waffle and struggle with my body and my emotions on my current situation, here’s my sad little story.

At 18 I decided it was time to join the ranks of the cool kids who went all the way and got a Rx for BCPs. I took the first one in the morning and went about my day with a smug smile on my face, feeling so grown up. The next morning I woke up early and had to pee. I jumped out of bed and had that woozy feeling like I got up too fast. Steadying myself I walked the ten steps to the bathroom and, upon arrival, lost consciousness. The next thing I remember is waking up on the floor looking up at my mother standing over me with a look of horror on her face. What happened?, I asked. You had a seizure, she said.

WHAT DID YOU SAY? I had fainted many times in my life, but this was a different thing, for sure. According to her, I was flopping about on the floor like I was being electrocuted. Thankfully I hadn’t injured myself or even bit my tongue. A trip to the doctor was in order. He was a little dubious of my mother’s recounting of the event (she has a long history of medical exaggeration), so after a few cursory tests he sent me home and told me to let him know if anything else strange happened. Nothing did, at first.

Fast forward two years. I’ve moved in with my boyfriend, a man 10 years older than me, who is a different race, smokes (cigarettes and pot), with little ambition and a minimum-wage job. Yeah, my parents loved him. NOT. Which is of course why I had to move in with him. I went to see the same doc for my annual exam and immediately following the pap, it happened again. This time right on the doctor’s table. I woke up to find nurses holding down my arms and a wooden dowel in my mouth. I didn’t have to ask what happened. Perhaps out of guilt that they didn’t take my mother’s account seriously enough last time, he sent me to a specialist. They went all out with the neurological testing, but found nothing. Despite the lack of findings I was put on the epilepsy drug Dilantin, a barbiturate that’s been around since the 30’s, and told not to go near water alone. I showered in fear for years…but, I digress.

If Dr. Google had been around then I could have prevented all that followed by finding out for myself that “It interacts with a number of other antiepileptic drugs and other drugs, including oral contraceptives.” This singularly important fact was never mentioned to me by any of my doctors. So, you guessed it, about six months later I became pregnant.

That week in March is mostly a blur, it seemed both to be happening very slow and very fast at the same time. At work one day I went to the bathroom and felt just the faintest twinge of nausea. Call it what you will, but at that instant I knew that I was pregnant, despite the fact that this little twinge was the very first symptom I had had. In a panic I called my doctor and found out he was on vacation, but his brother (also a GP) was filling in for him. At the office they confirmed with both a HPT and a blood test. If they told me the HcG level, I don’t remember it and/or wouldn’t have understood what it meant anyway. Dr. Brother cheerfully examined me and said he thought I was about 15 weeks. You could have pushed me over with a feather. How was this possible? My periods were on schedule and normal and I didn’t seem to have gained any weight (this would have been obvious as I was barely 100 pounds at the time).

I left the office in tears and dropped the bombshell on my boyfriend (same guy). He told me it was my decision and he would back me up either way. Great, thanks. You must understand that not only was I young, unmarried and financially unprepared to have a baby, as a sexual abuse survivor I was conditioned to believe this was the absolute WORST thing that could have happened. During those years of abuse there was no greater threat to the secret than getting pregnant. Coupled with my mother’s constant warnings and horror stories from too early an age, even at age 20 all I could feel was sheer terror. I knew there was no possible way that I could keep the baby, but I put up the front I thought I should, pretending to struggle with the decision and gathering what information I could on all the horrible birth defects that the Dilantin undoubtedly had already caused. Once I told my doctor I wanted to terminate I had to go before a review board, since I was already into the second trimester. I don’t remember much of that, only the feeling of immense relief that they approved the D&C because of the drug interaction. If the hospital actually performed tests on the fetus, I have no knowledge of that, nor do I know the sex.

As luck would have it, my boyfriend was out of the town the weekend of the surgery, so I stayed with my parents. They were remarkably understanding and helpful, even my mother. I had no complications and healed quickly, physically at least. Do I regret my decision? No, it was the right decision at the time. Does it still affect me? You bet. More than I can express. Especially now, since I know that was my only shot at it.

But my story isn’t done yet. I was told that since I still had to be on the Dilantin (for how long?), I couldn’t take BCPs. In my mind, that left one alternative: sterilization. I was completely prepared to have my tubes tied right then and there. My boyfriend, clearly more afraid that he wouldn’t be having any more sex than he was with his own reproductive future, offered to have a vasectomy instead of me going through more surgery. And so that’s what happened.

After being on Dilantin for two years straight I was told to stop taking it, just out of the blue. Perhaps a year after the D&C I began to have severe abdominal pain and underwent a lap, which determined I had endometriosis. To treat this problem, yup, you guessed right again, I was put back on BCPs. In December of that year the boyfriend became the fiancé. When he asked me to marry him I just couldn’t say no (even though I knew I should), not after I was the reason he would never have children, not after the vasectomy was completely unnecessary. To this day I feel like I held the scalpel in my own little hand. I know he doesn’t blame me, and has never, ever, even in the fierce battles right before we split up for good, brought it up as being my fault or something he regretted. It’s my own guilt.

I stayed on BCPs for many, many years. Through the first marriage and divorce, and through the first tentative years with the love of my life, through the second wedding day. Then I began the campaign to stop taking them so we could have children. For the first time in my life I actually wanted to get pregnant. And you know the rest of the sad story. It wasn’t meant to be. And here I am, once again taking the little pills, this time to treat perimenopausal symptoms. Funny how something so small has had such a huge impact in my life. Not ha ha funny. If you got his far, thanks for reading.

Interlude

2005-07-21T19:52:00.000-07:00

I've got several entries whirling about in my head and I promise to get them all out of my brain and onto virtual paper soon. One is about my feelings on staying on or getting off the IF freeway, one is on yet another family skeleton I'm dancing with, and one is the aforementioned tale of Donna vs. The Pill.

I wanted to say how very grateful I am for all the thoughtful comments I've received. All of them have given me food for thought and shown how much all of you "get it".

As a thank you and to make sure my readers don't fall off my radar screen because I haven't posted in a while, I leave you with some lovely images from our recent anniversary trip, and of the now-finished yurt next door.

The Return of the Speculum

2005-07-16T11:42:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like reuniting with an old friend. Just when I thought I had finished with wand monkeys, there I was again Thursday, my feet in carwash-mitt-covered-stirrups and a speculum allowing my cervix a brief glimpse of the world. Having to have a pap re-done because of a questionable or bad result is one thing, but to have it re-done because the sample was too small for the lab to test is unforgivable. How much skill does it take to scrap enough microscopic cells into a tube?? Apparently, more than you'd think. At least he didn't charge me for it.

I asked Dr. T what we were doing now, am I just going to be on BCPs forever? He carefully read over his notes on my chart and told me to finish off the two starter packs he'd given me then stop and see what happens. Meaning, let's see if you are still having really short or really long cycles and are still waking up in the morning with your legs stuck together from night sweats. Let's see if you are still perimenopausal in two months' time.

I don't know what to think. Part of me wanted him to tell me, Yes, you are now on the Pill and that's the end of the story. I told my hubby what Dr. T said and I swear I could hear a touch of disappointment in his voice. He said, "So now we wait...again."

We will have a conversation about what to do next before I run out of BCPs. I know that if I told him I wanted to stay on the Pill so that I wouldn't have to be worrying about whether it could happen every month for the next 5 years, he would say OK. I know he wants me to be happy and to be freed from the constant cycling of self-monitoring, timing and disappointment. I also know he wants a baby.

Seriously, I am looking for assvice here. Here are the parameters:
** I am 41, DH is 46.
** No success through 8 Clomid/IUI and 3 injectibles/IUI cycles.
** Two high FSH results, the last one was 18.6.
** 4 consecutive months of extremely short or extremely long cycles, then a period that had to be stopped with Provera.
** History of endometriosis.
** No insurance coverage for ART, and no money for DE or IVF. Also, philosophically and emotionally, as well as financially, injectibles/IUI was as far as we were willing to go.

So now we are left to our own devices. I don't need to tell you the success rate for me is less than 5%, with a 50 -60% miscarriage risk. If I wasn't able to conceive with all that help, what makes me think I can do it on my own, given all the above parameters?

I'm waffling between having the piece of mind that we did everything we said we would do and staying on BCPs to help with the perimenopausal and endo symptoms, and moving on; and going off of them and continuing to try on our own and praying for some miracle.

If you were in my shoes, what would you do?

Jagged Little Pill

2005-07-11T19:31:00.000-07:00

I took my first BCP yesterday. So far so good, at least physically. A friend asked me today if this was part of a strategy of treatment and I had to admit I didn’t know. Am I just going to be on BCPs now forever? It sure seemed like it when my doc told me to call back when I was running out (he gave me two starter packs) and they would call in another Rx. So…this is it then? The decision has been made for me that it’s time to hang up the stirrups? I’m being told to take BCPs now because it’s the “best and easiest way” to deal with my suddenly perimenopausal cycles and symptoms. I know it will also help to starve whatever endo is still lurking or has formed since my lap in May 2004. Ergo, going off of it after some period of time would seem counter-productive. I just can’t wrap my brain around the fact that now I cannot get pregnant, no matter how perfect the timing might be, or the fact that my one remaining good egg decides it’s time to come floating down the chute, or my husband’s already stellar sperm has a particularly good day.

I was going to tell my long and sordid history with BCPs, as I alluded to in an earlier post, but I think I will leave that for a day in the near future.

Below is a picture from our 4th of July outing, this was taken just before the aforementioned dunking. Hubby is in the background, trying to get back up on his stand-up ski after a fall. He falls a lot. Which is why he wears a helmet. He looks really sexy in a X-games sort of way.

Lovely London

2005-07-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

I am so saddened by the news of the terrible terrorist attacks in London. Having been to this wonderful city I know that her spirit won't be broken so easily and she is already mending herself. My thoughts and prayers to everyone there and everyone who has loved ones there, as I do.

Hero Worship

2005-07-06T19:26:00.000-07:00

I have nothing of real interest to report about my family visit. It was tough to keep them entertained. They are not the type of people who can just sit and relax, they have to have things booked for days in advance. We managed to cram in almost everything they wanted to do, including a day out on the jet skis on Monday. During a concentrated effort to dump my half-brother off the back of my ski I managed to whack my left knee something fierce against the running board. Ouch. It's swollen and bruised, but it was worth it to hear the roar of approval from the watching crowd up on the beach. Initiation is a bitch. He was sullen and dark and moody, and never lifted a finger to help with anything, but otherwise I have to say he wasn't as bad as I envisioned. I often paint things a darker shade than I need to.

When I was a little girl my Dad was my hero. It seemed to me that he knew a little bit about almost everything, and could fix or figure out how anything worked. He took hot baking dishes out of the oven without mitts (due to calloused hands from working at the saw mill). He could drive any kind of vehicle, find his way using just the angle of the sun and make a salad out of roots and berries from along the hiking trail. He knew every type of tree, bird, fish and flower in our world.

As he left yesterday I became aware of how many times over the previous few days I had become frustrated by his apparent lack of common sense. Little things. Like he can't figure out how to open a box of cereal without destroying the top of the box so it can't be closed again properly. Or he makes the coffee too strong every day because he can't or won't read the instructions on the bag about the coffee to water ratio. Or he tries to start one jet ski using the lanyard (key) for a different one. I realize he is getting older. I'm just not used to following my Dad around and putting the milk back in the fridge. I want my hero back.

I guess I should mention that I finally got my period on Monday, 16 days after my last Provera dosage. I'll take my first BCP on Sunday. I'm still in complete denial. It really hasn't hit me yet that from here on out I have absofuckinglutely no chance of getting pregnant. Although...the one and only time I was able to get pregnant was when I was on BCPs. Ah, the irony. That's a story for another day.

In honor of our 5th wedding anniversary, which was last Saturday, here are two of my favorite wedding pictures.

Equal Rights

2005-06-29T18:53:00.000-07:00

This story makes me proud to be a Canadian. Way to go, you crazy Canucks!

Addendum:
Well now we've got the party started! The Spanish are joining in the fun. It's a better world for it, I say. Just think of the weddings! Wheeeeeeeee!

Seven, Unleashed

2005-06-28T17:35:00.000-07:00

My Dad, his girlfriend/common-law wife/mother of his son, and their 14 year-old son are on their way down for a visit. They are driving down from B.C., taking their time. They should be here by Friday. I am really looking forward to seeing my Dad and even M., although she is far too indulgent with her child and can be annoying, but I could totally do without my half-brother.

I know that's terrible. Here's the thing. He's 14. He's brooding, selfish, arrogant and spoiled. He treats his parents like shit. Everything sucks. Everything is boring. "Whatever" is his standard reply to almost every question, and all he wants to do is play violent video games on the computer. (He's not touching our computer, BTW, they've had theirs "mysteriously stop working" way too many times.) Sounds like your typical 14 year-old boy, right?

But, there are two others factors at play for me:

#1. He has the same first name as the child that my husband gave up for adoption. Just hearing it said makes me sad.

#2. He looks freakishly like my brother at that age. My brother that molested me. My brother who was killed in a car accident in April. My brother who at age 14 was molesting the 7 year-old me.

I hope my inner child doesn't just lose it on his ass.

It's In the Genes

2005-06-26T22:18:00.000-07:00

Don't you just love how the medical profession figures stuff out when it's too late to do you any good? Apparently, soon they will have a test that may be able to tell you approximately how many eggs you have left, and therefore, how long you can afford to wait to have children. Great. Too bad they didn't have this 10 years ago.

"In a study presented Tuesday at a European fertility conference, scientists reported some women who find it easy to conceive after age 45 have a special genetic profile."

Here's a link to the news story. Read it and weep with me if you're over 40.

What's In a Name

2005-06-26T19:17:00.000-07:00

I tend to wait until I have written an entire entry in my head (and checked the Chicago Manual of Style) before writing anything down. Which is probably a mistake and causes my posts to be rather wordy. So I'm going to try to just jot things down when they come to me instead of making y'all wait for some perfectly manicured post with a through-line from clever title to end-sentence that wraps the whole thing up like a burrito.

When I started this blog I was in the middle of my IF struggle. So why didn't I choose a title that had anything to do with eggs or sperm or waiting or struggling or INFERTILITY?

Several reasons. I knew that there were going to be many posts that didn't have anything to do with that part of my life, or at least weren't the focus. All the really good metaphors and inside jokes were already taken by the Avatars of IF Blogs. And most telling of all, I didn't want to have to change the name later when the focus of my life changed from trying to have a baby. Was that defeatist or just lazy?

Another Day Older

2005-06-22T19:41:00.000-07:00

I try to think of my birthday as just that: I am one day older than I was yesterday. It's hard to think that way when you are goal-oriented and the goal you've been orienting towards for many years (ugh!) is still left as an unfinished and seemingly impossible task.

For those of you who only know me in the blogosphere I'm sure I seem quite sad. I assure you I'm really not, it's just that I tend to write when I am feeling down more than when I am feeling good.

My Mom called last night, ostensibly to wish me a happy birthday, but of course the conversation quickly turned to herself and of course, my brother. She asked me how I was doing "dealing with it all". The best I could sputter out was that my relationship with him was much different than anyone else's, but I was doing fine, thank you. And yes, I looked at all the pictures from the funeral and I'm still fine. Perhaps the fact that I don't have children makes it impossible for me to know what she is going through. Or perhaps I'm so used to her being in crisis that even when a genuine one presents itself, I still have no empathy.

Maybe I'm just tired. This working FT crap sucks! I honestly don't know how I did it for 15 years straight without blinking an eye. I want to sleep in. I want to go to the gym. I want to have lunch on a week day with friends. I want to take my dogs for a walk along the shoreline.

Well at least it's a good day to have a party. Too bad it's a big pity party! (Everyone sing along with me.)

Fathers Without Children

2005-06-19T19:56:00.000-07:00

Last night we were at an event with our closest friends and spent some time with their toddler, aka The Smartest Four Year-Old I Know. Another friend of ours, G., was there as well and he had a great time chatting with TSFYOIK and spinning him around and around in different shapes. My DH joined in the fun and the three of them were a giggling spinning frenzy of child and man-children. It broke my heart. How is it fair that these two men, who are two of the most caring, kind and intelligent people you will ever meet, aren't fathers? To be correct, they are fathers, without children.

G. is a father, to a full-term stillborn boy born 10 years ago.

DH is a father, to a grown man who hasn't seen his father since he was too young to remember.

I'll try to make the story brief (some of you may have already heard/read it). The child was born to very young parents, and when he was 18 months old his mother left DH and took him with her. There was already another man in the picture and DH didn't want to create more problems for the child by going against her wishes and keeping in contact. Not to mention he was so devastated he had to quit work and move back in with his mother. Fast forward 10 years. The child's step-father tracks down DH's mother and informs her that the child's mother and he are getting divorced, and she has already given up her parental rights. In order for the step-father to adopt the child, DH must also give up his parental rights. Again, he is devastated but knows it is in the best interest of the child to sign the paperwork. He has lost his child again. I hope that someday this man will want to know who his real father is and will establish contact.

I hope that someday we will be parents, somehow. I know that his reluctance to adopt is tangled up in this mess, and I completely understand that. He recently told me he would consider it after we've grieved for the loss of our ability to have our own biological child.

Until then, he remains, a father without children.

How Much Does He Love Me?

2005-06-18T11:39:00.000-07:00

Let me show you the ways.

Here's our anniversary presents to each other (a bit early). Ours are black. If you have dogs, and especially if you have dogs that you let sleep on your bed, you know how expensive and/or how much of a hassle it can be to keep a king-sized comforter clean. Now we can wash them ourselves.

And below is my birthday present from DH. Again, a few days early but he just couldn't wait and we are attending an event later today in which having a digital camera will be a plus.

The instruction manual is more than a little daunting (even the one in English), but thankfully the camera has a "beginner" setting until I have time to really go through all the features. DH is an amazing photographer so he can explain all the fancy stuff I don't understand. Now I can post pictures I just took on here.

Thursday I attended an all-day seminar for work and ran into a colleague I initially met soon after I moved to California in 1988, through my ex. He was going on and on about how good I looked. In fact, he said I looked 10 years younger now than I looked 10 years ago. Well, he can't know that since he didn't meet me quite 20 years ago, but I forgave him the slight exaggeration. I told him happiness can do that for a girl. Later I thought, after all the sadness I've been through, especially lately, how telling it was that that's what popped into my head to say. I think I really am going to be OK.

TV, Movies & the Internet

2005-06-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your kind comments. I'm really trying not to be a big Drama Queen, but holy crap, shit just keeps comin' at me lately.

If you care, a little update on my ever-changing job situation. I told New Close-to-Home Client that I would stay until they found a FT replacement, since it ain't gonna be me sitting in that chair. I really wanted to leave after my 4-week assignment was up, but it didn't seem fair to leave them in the lurch when I have no other commitments.

I also talked to Old Client and asked if we could hold off on the move to Manager and FT employee-status there. My boss agreed that if she were me, she wouldn't want to change things either. I'm not ready to give up my PT consultant status just yet. She said at some point her hand may be forced, but for right now we're back at status quo. Phew.

I wanted to make a couple of comments on stuff I've seen and read lately. Has anybody seen the new TV Guide that just came out? Ugh. Kelly Ripa on the front cover proclaiming, "My body is so much better since I had kids!" Oh, go fuck yourself, Kelly.

We finally watched The Village last weekend. I don't know why we waited so long to see it, we loved Sixth Sense and Unbreakable. Whoever wrote the liner notes and described it as a "thriller" hadn't seen the movie. I found it to be profoundly sad. I won't give away the classic Shyamalan twist, but essentially the movie is about people who go to extraordinary lengths to leave their pasts behind. No matter how idyllic a life they try to create, tragedy still befalls them. Perhaps it's just the frame of mind I'm in. In any case, I would recommend it.

Finally, there's this site. I LOVE that someone came up with a funny idea and a way to make money at the same time. Take that you freaky Scientology nutbar.

The Real End

2005-06-13T19:34:00.000-07:00

Sandy said in her comment that it seemed like I was either very accepting or in shock. A little bit of both, I guess. Denial is almost as powerful as hope. I had conveniently neglected to mention to any of my docs that my mother had a hysterectomy sometime in her mid-30's. Actually I had never really thought about it until now, my mother had so many surgeries and illnesses it was hard to keep track. I was conceived when my sister was 6 months old and my twin brothers were 6 years old. I swear, I was always her least favorite child, the child she never wanted or planned to have and the one who made her life pretty unbearable. I can't really imagine how difficult her situation must have been, but it wasn't my fault. Mom, hear that, I WASN'T THERE the night I was conceived. You can stop blaming me anytime.

Ahem. Sorry about that. Anyway, I wonder now why she just didn't have her tubes tied, since she obviously didn't want any more children, instead of yanking the goods clear outta there. My mother is a very persuasive patient, I've known her to nag doctors into performing procedures (even surgery) just to shut her up. So maybe that was it. Or maybe she had really fucked up reproductive organs and they had to go. I should ask her, but I probably won't. I don't need to know that badly, and it doesn't matter now anyway. I am what I am. Perimenopausal. Without a hyphen, I learned from Dr. Google.

I can't wait for my birthday in a couple of weeks. Not only am I expecting a long-overdue digital camera from Birthday Clause, but it will mean the end of this entirely crappy 40th year. 10 sucked (sexual abuse). 20 sucked (the beginning of my girlie parts rebellion against the rest of my body). 30 sucked (divorce). And now 40's been a big freaking train wreck.

P.S. After 17 days of bleeding, I think I am finally tampon-free. The Provera makes me feel like crap and gives me bad cramps, but its doing its job. Now I can't wait for the next adventure, Really Heavy Period. How much blood can I possibly have left?

Parting the Red Sea

2005-06-11T11:04:00.000-07:00

Once again my life has totally changed over the span of one week. Or at least my perception of it.

After two full weeks of bleeding I finally called my old OB, the guy who did all the IUIs who’s no longer covered by my insurance, even for non-IF related visits. I figured it was worth it to shell out the cost of an appointment to see someone who had my history for the past 3 years. He did a full annual exam and didn’t find anything remarkable (I’ll get the pap results next week, I guess).

However, based on my Tale of the Wacky Cycles since my last injectibles/IUI cycle failed in February (three 20-day cycles in a row, a normal 29-day cycle, then this cycle in which I spotted heavily on CD16-18, started on CD27 and just never stopped bleeding), he gently imparted the following:

“Your ovaries, uterus and cervix are fine. What you are experiencing is hormonal in nature. I don’t think you’re ovulating and have moved from pre-menopausal, where you were last year when we were doing the IUIs, into perimenopause. I think the best and easiest way to deal with the irregular periods is to start you on Provera for 5 days and then after you finish your next period (which will probably be very heavy), start on BCPs.”

And with that, my old label of IF patient was replaced with perimenopausal patient. How does this happen in less than 6 months? I am so confused, angry and sad. The Provera isn’t helping. Last night I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

On to the job stuff. I agreed to a 4-week consulting assignment at my new client, taking over for someone who left quite unexpectently. I told them I would be willing to talk about rolling over to a permanent FT position if I liked it well enough to give up my old client and my status as a consultant. After only a few days I started finding red flags – things that gave me pause and made me wonder about the company’s future, its internal practices and the working environment. The only thing it has going for it is its location, which as I said before, is REALLY close to home.

I told my boss at my other client (who is a wonderful, caring person who herself went through years of IF hell before adopting) about the opportunity. She was at first excited for me, knowing that it’s been my goal to be closer to home, but once I started talking about how things were there, became concerned that it was a step backwards in my career. At my next day there she took me into her office and offered me her job as the manager of the department. We had talked several times in the past about how she was grooming me to be her successor (she’s been there for 15 years) and if she was going to pass it on to anyone, she wouldn’t want to do that to anyone but me. Her other two direct reports have both been there for many years as well, but neither is management material. She would make me a manager under her and shift her focus to her other responsibilities outside the department, still being there as my mentor. This would enable me to get management experience without first having any management experience, something I couldn’t do at any other company. She would also factor in working from home one day a week. She said, if you hate it, stick it out for a year or two and then move on, adding to your resume. This would mean giving up my status as a consultant, something I covet. But it did give me a lot to think about.

After several more days at the new client and after my doctor’s appointment on Thursday, I told them that I would be leaving after my 4 weeks were up. I said it was for personal reasons. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to make this decision in my current frame of mind, but I wanted to be fair to them and give them ample time to find a replacement. DH says I can always change my mind.

I think what I am looking for right now is status quo. I love working PT and I love NOT being an employee. So I’m going to ask my boss at my old client if we can leave things the way they are right now and maybe later in the year talk again about hiring me as her successor.

Your comments are appreciated, as always.

Oh, Never Mind

2005-06-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

What a difference a week makes. Good news and bad news. Bad news first (natch)...

I'm 99% sure my friend is backing out of the surrogacy offer. She sent me an email saying she hadn't talked to her husband yet, and that she had doubts that he would agree, and even if he did agree, she wanted to talk to her doctor. Since she has a fibroid and would have to have a 3rd C-section so he might not recommend another pregnancy. I think the thing that really changed her mind was hearing about a friend of a friend who died after a c-section recently (she was 45). Now she's completely stressed about her upcoming birth in August and I'm sure can't fathom yet another one behind that. I knew it was not going to happen when she ended the message with "Adoption is still a good alternative."

Honestly, I'm not upset with her, just sad. I just wish she'd discussed it with her husband and her doctor before mentioning anything to me. In this instance I think I would have been better off never knowing she had the thought in the first place. That fuzzy champagne feeling I had a glimpse of is long gone.

The good news (I think) is I took on another client yesterday, filling up my PT schedule to FT again. This is a company I've been trying to get a job at for years. Ever since we moved here in 1999 it's been my goal to have my home and work numbers have the same area code. This is the first opportunity I've had to make that happen. There are only a handful of companies in my area that would ever need my services, so you have to be really lucky or know someone to get in. My commute to my other client is 50 miles each way and usually takes me about 90 minutes. My commute to this client is 12 miles and takes me about 20 minutes. So, that's good, right?

Then why aren't I happy about this? For one, I hate change. That sounds stupid coming from someone who's spent the last 3 years trying to make a huge change, but its true. I hate being the new girl. People who work in this area who also live here tend to stay at their company for a long time, even if it's not that great a job, because the quality of life is so much better without a long commute. So now I have a great commute. Big deal. Now I get to come home to an empty house an hour sooner than before.

Am I just too jaded and sad right now to be happy about anything?

UPDATE: Now I'm 100% sure. I just talked to my friend. Her husband doesn't want her to have surgery again and its obvious she doesn't either, so the deal's off. Part of why her husband said no was because we hadn't yet explored all of our options (i.e. we haven't done IVF). Whatever. That's not gonna happen, we can't afford it, my eggs are bad and if I'm going to be pregnant, its going to have to be my kid. So we're shelving the whole baby thing for a while and may look into adoption at some to-be-determined date in the future.

Did I mention I'm on Day 9 of my period? Maybe that's why I'm so sad and bitchy.

Things About Me

2005-06-01T17:43:00.000-07:00

I know, I should have done this a long time ago. I was going to just put it in my sidebar, but the only way I know how to publish this so I can put it there is to first make it a normal post. Its a work in progress.

Things About Me (updated March 2007)

I am the youngest of four children.
All four of us have first names that start with D and have 5 letters. My brothers were fraternal twins.
My husband is the youngest child of 3, and they all have first names that start with D and have 5 letters. Weird, huh?
My parents divorced when I was in my late 20’s.
I have a teen-age half-brother.
I got married at 24 and divorced at 30. Re-married at 36 in 2000 (I think I got it right this time).
One of my brothers has been divorced 3 times, the other 2, and me once. My sister is the only one who made a good decision out of the gate.
I was born and raised in the suburbs of Vancouver, British Columbia.
I’ve lived in the Bay Area of California since July 1988.
I am still a Canadian citizen.
I drive a 2001 VW Jetta.
I also own a 1993 Ranger pick-up and a 1996 Sea-Doo jet ski.
I cannot read music, play a musical instrument or sing (in key).
I seldom go anywhere without my iPod.
I have a gym membership and actually use it, even though I hate working out.
I’ve been involved in drum & bugle corps since I was 11.
I’ve been to 40+ of the 50 United States, but only 4 of the Canadian Provinces.
I've traveled to Belize, the UK and France. I have many more places I'd love to visit.
I love my dogs without reason.
I have friends I’ve known since elementary school.
I love to read.
I was on the Pill for over 15 years (see #24).
I love TV.
My favorite TV show was Alias, now its Grey's Anatomy or Lost.
I’m not a very good cook, but I have mastered a couple of good dishes.
I never wanted children until I met my current husband.
We tried for a long time and I was never able to conceive. We have decided to remain childless (see #57).
My maternal great-grandmother was a gypsy.
I took 6 years of French but cannot speak or read it for crap.
I never went to college.
When I was in high school I wanted to be a lawyer -- now I just work with them.
We live in a great house on 2 undeveloped acres in an unincorporated part of my county.
I hate flying.
I like brussel sprouts.
I was diagnosed with endometriosis at 20.
I started going gray at 30.
I’ve been dying my hair for over 10 years. I've had long hair for most of my life, it's one of my security blankets. I have great hair.
I’ve worn glasses since I was 3 (I now wear contacts).
I hate housework but have a low tolerance for clutter, dust and dirty dishes.
I’ve been involved with securities/equity/stock options since my first job in 1984.
I have a very strained relationship with my Mother, I talk to her a couple times a year and send flowers for her birthday and a centerpiece at Christmas.
I have a much better relationship with my Dad now than when I was growing up.
I’ve met Mikhail Baryshnikov -- he’s shorter than me, but gorgeous.
I love historical fiction and period movies (Amadeus, Dangerous Liaisons, The Count of Monte Cristo).
I have a very weak stomach. I once got sea-sick in a canoe. On a lake.
My half-brother is the same age as my oldest nephew.
My Dad's common-law wife (the mother of my half-brother) is his first cousin. Their mothers were sisters. She lived for most of her adult life as a lesbian. Yeah, we're not the Cleavers.
I love flowers and plants but don’t have much of a green thumb.
I am a whiz at Scrabble and crossword puzzles.
Ice cream is my favorite food.
I believe in therapy and have been in and out since 1994 (currently out).
I've done a total of 6 years of therapy, almost all of it dealing with my incest and abuse issues.
My brother abused me from the age of 3 to the age of 11. I was also raped by a friend of his at the age of 12.
That brother died in a car accident in 2005. I did not attend the funeral (although I did attend a family gathering in his honor).
I love photography and hope to go on an African safari sometime in my life.
I have a brother and a brother-in-law with the same name (spelt differently).
I’ve never had a bikini wax.
Our dogs sleep on the bed with us.
I don’t like math, even though I have to deal with numbers a lot for my job.
I need a calculator to do even the simplest calculations.
I love the internet (thanks Al Gore!).
I have a grown step-son (born in 1982) and a toddler step-grandson (born in 2003), I met them both for the first time in early 2006.
I've been a consultant since 2003. I like it much better than being an employee. Update: I'm now an employee, but of a consulting company, so I'm sort of a hybrid at this point.
I started English riding lessons in June 2006, my teacher says I am a natural. I look good in a classic black velvet riding helmet.
I am a weather wimp. My comfort zone is the 20 degrees between 65 and 85. Anything colder or hotter than that and I am uncomfortable. I believe the temperature outside should NEVER be more than your internal body temperature. That's just wrong.
I can type really fast. I used to be a whiz at 10-key too but I'm out of practice.
I am an unabashed liberal, way too liberal to be a Democrat -- I can't vote but I do have a lot of political opinions.
My husband is a card-carrying NRA member. We don't discuss this.
I don't eat seafood of any kind, except for the occasional plate of fish and chips (you can make almost anything edible if its covered in enough batter and fried).
My Dad was a part-time commercial fisherman when I was a kid (see #69).
On January 21, 2007 I became the owner of a gorgeous 7 year-old thoroughbred mare named Missy (show name is Mystere).

I'll add more as I think of things.

Far Out

2005-06-01T12:29:00.000-07:00

You know you live in the boonies when your neighbor is building a yurt on their property. When we first moved here 6 years ago the same neighbor was building a teepee. We thought it was an elaborate Boy Scout badge-attaining adventure, turns out it was home for a young couple for over 2 years. Yes, even in the winter. And yes, it does snow here (we're up at about 2500' above sea level). The yurt is also going to be a home, this time for a young couple with two young sons. I'm waiting for the VW bus to show up any day now.

Memorial Day Weekend

2005-05-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

I had a pretty good weekend. Saturday we took the dogs to a local art and wine festival, which consisted mainly of hand-made jewelry, tie-die and hemp clothing (we live in a former hippie enclave). The dogs were a big hit, lots of love coming at them from the crowd. Two well-behaved, beautiful Golden Retrievers, what's not to love?

Sunday we took the jet skis out on the water for the first time this season. Mine needed a new battery. The guy at the boat supply store said I looked like Elizabeth Hurley. What do you think? Extra points if you don't correctly guess who is who.

The water was a bit cold from snowpack run-off and was running high and fast. The canals were thick with debris, it was like running a slalom course just to stay clear of it. And of course, despite the sunscreen, we both got a little sunburned. Now I at least have a layer of color to work from.

Today we slept in and then spent the afternoon at a good ole-fashioned BBQ. The only thing missing was our child. Every year we go with the same group of people from DH's old job and every year there are more and more kids. Maybe year after next...

Nothing new on the surrogacy front, my friend was away for the weekend and I emailed her to ask her to talk to her husband to see if we were all on the same page. I continue to grapple with myself over my guilt (and quiet glee) at the possibility of not having to endure pregnancy in order to have a baby. I've always seen it as a nine-month sentence that I would have to serve. I'm not sure why, but I've never seen myself pregnant. Not in my dreams, not in my mind's eye, never. Maybe I just never thought it would happen, even though I've spent the last three years of my life trying to achieve it. There'll be lots more posts on this topic. I want to leave this one with this:

After I talked to DH about the surrogacy proposal, I left him to himself for a bit so he could have a chance to mull it over in peace. We haven't talked about it again, but at that initial moment I wanted him to have some space. Later he seemed especially loving, kissing my hand (something he does often), being silly, holding me closer than usual, or at least I thought so. A feeling came over me that seemed unfamiliar. Like my insides were filled with champagne and my head was filled with helium. I realized after a few minutes that what I was feeling was HAPPINESS. I've spent the last 5 years of my life being sad. 1/8th of my life. My entire marriage. All of the 21st century so far. I think it's time for a change.

Revelations I & II

2005-05-28T21:26:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I've been quiet so long. To be honest, I've been holding out on you. There has been a lot going on and I've needed some time to wrap my arms around it.

Revelation I came last weekend when DH and I had a long baby chat. He talked, I mostly cried. I won't go into all the details, suffice it to say he was as compassionate and loving and forthright as he always is, and I managed to say mostly what I wanted to say despite my emotions. [Read: snot dripping from my nose unattractively -- thankfully we were in the hottub so I was able to wash my face often.] If I thought I was getting to the point where I was OK about being forever childless, I was kidding myself. As soon as I started to talk about how unfair it is that my DH doesn't get to be a Daddy, all the emotions I thought I had in check were RIGHT THERE.

He said he was sad, and frustrated, and disappointed, and worried about me. He also said that adoption may be something he's willing to look at, once we've moved through the grief of not being able to have our own biological child.

WHOA! Back up. What did he say? "...willing to look into adopton?" As far as I knew, adoption was off the table. I guess 3 years of TTC changes your mind about some things. I fell back into his arms in the softly bubbling, green apple scented water and told him how lucky I was to have him in my life, that every day he makes me laugh, shows me and tells me how much he loves me.

I thought I was having a pretty good week, in Infertility World.

Revelation II came after I had lunch with a good friend on Wednesday. She's due in August with her second child, a girl. Her son will be 18 months old when her daughter is born. Even though she's my age (ancient in motherhood terms - 41), she gets pregnant easily and has had two successful, uneventful pregnancies. After a nice lunch during which we both cried a little at my plight, on the way back to her house she cautiously mentions, almost casually, that she would be willing to act as a surrogate for DH and I.

WHOA and WHOA!! Back. Way. Up. She didn't think we would want to use both my (bad) eggs and DH's sperm, since we had ruled out IVF for ourselves, but she would be willing to sync up our cycles and do it that way, or she would do an IUI with her (good) eggs and my DH's (good) sperm. I was speechless. I didn't know what to say, except thank you. And that I would talk to DH about it.

I wrangled with the idea for several days. Was this the easy way out? Did I care that the child would not be mine biologically? I came to the conclusion that if I was willing and able to love an adopted child as my own, then I sure as hell would be willing and able to love a child that had my husband as a father and someone I loved dearly as a biological mother.

I gently broached the subject with DH today. He was interested and did not give me any impression that he was thinking negatively about it at all. Of course, we all have questions and concerns, and there will be a lot of googling going on around here in the near future.

Oh, and my friend wants us to tell her for sure if we want to do this before she gives birth in August, since she was planning on having her tubes tied at the time of her scheduled C-section, and she would have to cancel that. Tick tock. Stay tuned.

Infertility on TV

2005-05-22T14:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, coming soon to a TV near you, the fascinating world of Infertility!

First came news of the fall NBC "delightful ensemble drama" called Inconceivable (I wonder what Julia Indochiva is thinking?). The ONLY good thing I can say about this is that at least it's not a comedy. Because we all know that once a couple finds out they have a fertility problem, the hilarity ensues. I watched the preview on the NBC site and had to sit on my hands to avoid throwing my computer out the window.

Then I came across this story on MSNBC.com. *banging head on desk* I'll just leave that as a stand-alone and slowly back away.

Trying to Learn to Be Less Alive

2005-05-20T17:16:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling melancholy today, and since there are a couple of us feeling the same way I decided to post a beautiful, melancholy song from Ani Difranco.

I am out here studying stones
Trying to learn to be less alive
Using all of my will
To keep very still
Still even on the inside

I sometimes think what a blessing it would be to just not care that I will never see what my child looks like, but I know I don't live in a vacuum and not caring about that would mean changing who I am at the core.

Studying Stones [download from Amazon]

Update and a Clarification

2005-05-19T11:25:00.000-07:00

AF is still coming in in dribs and drabs, I wouldn't call it CD1 yet, but the rest of me feels like I'm in the throws of it. It doesn't really matter, obviously my lining is in the process of breaking down and it's too early for that.

I just wanted to make it clear that I don't think 41 is too old to have a baby. Except maybe for me. I know lots of women who have had or who are having a baby after 40, although finding someone having or who had their first baby after 40 is still rare. Ironically, this is possibly the only thing in my life that I had no doubt that I could do. When we started TTC (even though I was 38), after the initial round of tests on us both showed that we were in good shape, I thought, well heck, I'll be pregnant in no time! I've also thought that if perhaps I had some sliver of hope in all this time, a chemical pregnancy, or anything to show that this is something my body was willing and able to do, then I would feel differently now.

As I'm fond of saying (with a nod to Dr. Phil), it's clear to me that the wheels have come off my fertility cart and I'm sitting here with no means to roll forward anymore.

P.S. Is it wrong that I've come to my own blog a million times just to look at Will Kemp?

The Barren Plain

2005-05-17T12:26:00.000-07:00

I just broke my own record for the shortest cycle ever. Today is CD17, and AF will be here in full force by tonight. Yesterday I was weepy and emotional. I thought it had to do with the fact that I miss my best friend deeply, that was true but it was enhanced by hormones out of control. Since it was so early I assumed my mood couldn't be pre-menstrual in nature. Ha! Curses, foiled again.

For those of you keeping track, since our last failed injectibles cycle in February I've had two 20-day cycles in a row, then a "normal" 29-day cycle and then, (ta-da!) this 17-day cycle.

I feel old. Broken. Barren. Tired.

I turn 41 next month. Every day that passes increases my chances of 1) not conceiving at all; 2) if conception occurs, having a miscarriage; 3) if miscarriage doesn't occur, having a child with disabilities. If the current trend continues, I'll be having a period every two weeks soon.

I'm considering asking my doctor to put me back on the Pill. I was on it for 15 years straight and never had any problems, in fact, it keep my endo under control. I want my life back. I want my sex life back. I don't want to be worrying about getting pregnant or not getting pregnant every damn month for the next 5 years. Am I crazy?

Weekend Fun

2005-05-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

Things have been pretty somber and heavy on my blog lately and I felt like throwing out some fun for you (and me).

First, some gratuitous hotness: meet Will Kemp. He's a British ballet dancer/model/actor, this photo is from his solo Gap ad from 2002. If you want to see the entire commercial (and hey, who wouldn't), click here. You're welcome.

Second, I thought I would share some of the music I've found recently and fallen in love with. I'm thinking of making it a regular feature here on WTLB. These are all free and legal downloads from recognized commercial sites.

Badly Drawn Boy

His real name is Damon Gough, he grew up in Bolton, northern England, a talented singer-songwriter with "baroque folk-pop sensibilities". "Not surprisingly, Gough has been showered with accolades and critical praise, most recently securing the coveted Mercury Music Prize, England's top album award. He deserves it. He's an astute and diverse songwriter, with great instincts for what makes the perfect pop song." [Quotes and downloads from Epitonic]
Once Around The Block
The Shining

Tell me what you think about the music and the new feature.

Mother's Day Weekend

2005-05-10T19:40:00.000-07:00

I must apologize to my friends at BE, they've already read all of this, but I'm too lazy to do much more than paraphrase myself.

I'm exhausted, but otherwise none the worse for wear. It did indeed go better than any of us expected (sad but true, we all had low expectations of ourselves as a group). We flew up Friday afternoon and came back Sunday afternoon, quick and dirty.

I don't really have anything exciting to relate. Everyone behaved themselves pretty well. Both my Mom and Dad were there, and even sat relatively close to each other, although I never saw them speaking other than a hurried hello. Mom told me later that Dad tried to talk to her (oh horror!) but she couldn't handle talking about my brother so she turned him away.

I don't know what I was thinking going into this thing, but I didn't think it was going to be the West Coast Memorial. I realize the death of my brother was the reason why we all gathered, but I didn't know it was going to be the focus of the entire day. My brother had brought back a lot of pictures and momentos from the funeral and had made copies of a lot of stuff for everyone. He first related the story of the accident (which was different than we had initially heard - he was wearing his seat belt, it was the overhang of the street sweeper coming into the cab of the truck that killed him), and started to cry several times during that speech, then later went through what happened at the funeral and cried several times through that too. Other than my Mom and my Dad (briefly) noone else seemed to be emotional about any of it.

Now, I'm no beauty queen, but I felt like an anorexic movie star in that room. WTF? Bad/missing teeth, bad/dirty hair, bad/dirty clothes, lumpy bodies, half of them live in trailer parks. Only me, my sister and one of my cousins brought their spouses. They served MEMORIAL CAKE. It actually said "In Loving Memory of _____" in the frosting, like it was a freaking birthday cake.

At one point my great-uncle, who was hosting the event, quieted the room and wanted to know if anybody had anything they'd like to say, or tell any stories. One of my cousins (who's been a stoner/drinker all his life) told the story of he and my brother waking up from a 3 day bender on a nude beach. Another cousin told the story of her ex puking out the window at one my brother's annual parties, losing his false teeth in the process, and my brother, ever the good host, diving out the window to retreive them from the flower garden. Ah, good times.

I'm sitting there, dry-eyed the whole time, thinking -- yeah, I gotta couple stories I could tell ya. Otherwise, I got nothin'.

In between all the brother stuff there was a lot of catching up being done. And a lot of drinking. That was the first thing my great-uncle did was take drink orders, and EVERYONE ordered an alcoholic drink, it was 2 in the afternoon. I kept a steady buzz going on white wine, which helped. Other than my immediate family, I hadn't seen anyone else in the room for at least 15 years, some of them 20+ years. My Mom and my Dad both said one completely inappropriate thing each in front of the whole group, but that wasn't bad, considering.

I left without wishing my Mom a Happy Mother's Day, and DH and I went out with one of my girlfriends to de-tox a bit after 4 hours of family. I called her from the airport the next morning but all she wanted to talk about was how sore she was from the long car ride and that my brother's wife had already called to wish her a Happy Mother's Day. I guess things are pretty much back to normal. Unfortunately.

I left feeling very, very lucky to have the life I have, the friends I have, and the husband I have. I managed to get through Mother's Day without a hint of sadness for myself. I don't know what that means.

Ambivalent -- Party of One

2005-05-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

I was just wandering around in the mall at lunch. I know I'm struggling when shopping can't make me feel better. I know that going home for a family get-together this weekend is weighing heavily on me. I don't regret making the decision to go, that's not it. To be honest, I'm not sure what's going on in my head. I'm sad that I'm not more sad about my brother's death. I'm sad that I'm not looking forward to seeing my Mom. I'm sad that it will be Mother's Day and I feel I don't have anything to celebrate.

I'm sad that I feel so ambivalent about continuing to TTC on our own, now that we've gone as far as we were willing to go with medical assistance. I like my life the way it is. I just took over the room that was going to be the nursery for my new dressing room. Yet my eyes still fill with tears when I realize I'll never know what a perfect mixture of me and DH would look like.

My surviving brother just became a grandfather for the first time yesterday. His wife's daughter gave birth to a healthy baby boy. There was a time when he wanted children of his own, but for a variety of reasons that never happened, and now he is perfectly happy to forego fatherhood and skip ahead to grand-fatherhood. He's only 7 years older than me, and only 2 years older than DH. I guess I really did wait too long to get the baby bug.

Happy May Day

2005-05-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in Canada where all things British are still revered, I took part in many May Day festivities. I found this and linked it on Olivia Drab's blog because of her auspicious May Day. I never realized the fertility connection of the ritual, although this makes perfect sense: "Originally the Maypole represented a phallic symbol or a Pagan symbol of Fertility celebrating sexuality..." Dancing around a giant pole makes about as much sense as most of the other crap we've been told that increases our chances of conceiving.

Maypole dancing

Longevity Calculator

2005-04-30T11:05:00.000-07:00

My brother sent me this link to a longevity calculator. No doubt this is fallout from eating a big reality sandwich and he's thinking about his own mortality. Not a bad thing to do a little inventory on your life and see what you're doing to and for yourself. It said I was going to live until I was 92. Egad, that seems mighty, mighty old. How long are you going to live?

In Case You Were Wondering

2005-04-27T00:20:00.000-07:00

The answer is yes, the dogs sleep with us. Both of them. Bailey likes to stretch out next to DH while Tucker curls up in a ball in between our feet. With an extra combined 185 pounds of dog on board, even in a king-sized bed, it's often a miracle I don't end up on the floor.

Pet therapy is a wonderful thing. In fact, Bailey IS a therapy dog. We belong to an organization called Furry Friends Pet Assisted Therapy Services. We visit two sites right now, a retirement home and a homeless family shelter, once a month to each site. Sometimes going to the homeless shelter is difficult, there are always lots of young mothers with several children, but they are the ones who get the most out of the dogs' visits.

I'm not sleeping well but otherwise am doing OK. I am really busy at work and have been putting in long hours. I miss my husband and my dogs but all the extra money will be well spent on our vacations this year. I'm a consultant, so the more hours I work the more money I earn. Now if I could just do away with those pesky quarterly estimated tax payments...