What would you think if I approached my 21 year old niece to be an Egg Donor? There were 83 total votes:

4% – Thought I was a hypocrite since I just talked smack about 21 year olds being too young (3 votes)

35% – Wait and see how long it really does take with the clinic (29 votes)

61% – Thought it couldn’t hurt to ask (51 votes)


What is your blogging process for new posts? The total 72 votes were divided as follows:

0% – Write it down

7% – Keep bunches of drafts on blog (5 votes)

17% – Keep post ideas in their heads (12 votes)

68% – Posts the first cohesive thoughts (49 votes)

8% – Other, see below (6 votes)

    • Sometimes I think about a post 4 a while, sometimes it happens while I’m typing!
    • I do both the drafts saved on my blog AND the type-type-type and post options.
    • Usually ‘D’, but I do have a few started but never finished posts in Draft form.
    • Somewhere between 2 and 4.
    • I work my post out in my mind and then write it out.
    • write on the spot and redraft as I write


Will you vaccinate your children? 47 total votes tallied.

83% – Yes as suggested by the doctor/school (39 votes)

9% – Yes, but on my own schedule (4 votes)

9% – No (4 votes)

0% – Unsure


To protect our privacy as we move forward, what should I do? There were 35 votes total.

49% – Said I should password protect the TKO typepad account (17 votes)

51% – Said I should keep my other private blog and update there (18 votes)

no. 489 – Material Loss

It’s been a rough weekend. I think it’s the combination of many things that have been weighing on me that made me teeter between taking off the head of any person who dared glance at me to literally collapsing to the floor to cry.

I found out that I’m number ten on the waiting list at my clinic for a donor. You need to know that they get approximately one donor a month. One donor to match to two recipients. You do the math.

It’s CD17 and there’s nothing to indicate I am going to ovulate.

There were a couple of pregnancy announcements by some friends of ours.

We attended my husband’s 25th class reunion. You don’t realize how old you are until you see a room of your peers.

It was then this post by Jen about maternity clothes that tied up my guts and made it difficult for me to focus beyond my sadness to see much or any of the good that may have been around me.

Over a year ago I took every piece of maternity clothing I had and gave it to someone I knew pregnant with her first child. Maternity clothing is expensive and it can be hard for the average person to justify the cost for something that may only be worn 4-5 months.

I was one of those “average persons”. I remember shopping the first time for maternity clothes somewhere around four months pregnant with X. My sister accompanied me and was willing to give me a more than honest opinion of the items available. I would strap on the fake bump and laugh at the idea that I would ever be big enough to fill out any of the pieces.

I remember the funky maternity jeans with the flared bottoms that were just as hip as any non-maternity jeans and I wore them for almost every casual occasion. I remember the dupioni silk top in a deep red that I wore to a formal fundraiser with the black boot cut slacks with high heels when I was over 8 months pregnant. I remember the striped horizontal turtleneck sweater that I wore to my baby shower.

While I hated them all, I saved them…just in case.

I was so happy when I was able to retire them to the far reaches of my closet.

I was so happy that someone else would finally get some use out of them. I also thought in some cosmic way that my selflessness in letting someone wear those clothes would somehow grant me some immunity from all the bad luck we had been experiencing.

When I got pregnant with Wolf and we saw a heartbeat, I was worried about how I would ask for the clothes back as I hadn’t been clear as to whether I was loaning or giving her the clothes. I knew I would have to ask since she had just delivered her baby and nothing had been mentioned about returning the clothes.

My concern was for naught as I went on to miscarry Wolf at 8 weeks.

Now that I’ve had yet another miscarriage since then, I wonder if maybe she knows that I’ll never be pregnant again and therefore would have no need of them. They are probably long gone by now. I have no idea.

The very idea that I may never need those stupid clothes back, even though I KNOW I would end up getting all new stuff anyway, just breaks me.

I wonder if I hadn’t just kept those clothes, it would have told whoever it is controlling my destiny that I was serious about having another baby. Maybe by giving them up as well as all the baby clothes and furniture it was misunderstood as my giving up on the dream. For the first time in a long time I am really regretting those things not taking up space in my attic or basement. I’m scared that by giving those things away I gave away the hope and dreams I had for our future.

What if I fucked up? What if instead of promoting good karma, I did the opposite? It makes me nearly ill with grief to imagine it.

I know I can get new things and that I shouldn’t fret over something so ridiculous, but now I have nothing around me anymore to remind me of what we have been struggling so hard for. Shouldn’t I have kept something so that my desire wouldn’t appear disingenuous? If I really wanted another baby, shouldn’t I have a nursery ready to go? Shouldn’t I have a dresser full of baby clothes? Wouldn’t these be proof of my intentions and that we plan on doing everything we can to reach that point?

Right now, I am feeling more alone and helpless than I have in a long time. I haven’t written a post where I cried all the way through it in a long time.

It all feels so utterly futile.

no. 488 – International Fertility Film Festival, July 2007

We all benefit from the powerful and thought-evoking words bloggers share with us. Now you have a chance to get a visual of some equally powerful short films from some lovely ladies/couples who share their talents via the IFFF.

Here’s the link to the 2007 2nd Annual International Film Festival – Seasons.

If you want to take a look at the very first IFFF submissions, see here.

All of the entries are amazing.

If you feel so inclined, there is also the opportunity to vote for your favorite from the recent submissions and the film with the most votes will virtually toast everyone with some dee-lish wine: Love.

Even if you can’t chose a favorite, do make sure you show your appreciation by leaving a comment or two.

no. 487 – Taking Responsibility

As tragic as the story is about these two news helicopters crashing and four individuals losing their lives, I cannot accept that somehow the man fleeing arrest in a motor vehicle is somehow responsible.

These weren’t police helicopters. What if these had been two news vans chasing the fray to get their story? The attention of the pilots were erroneously focused on the chase, not on each other and air safety.

What if while watching the story in rapt awe, I had tripped over one of X’s toys on the floor, fell and busted my face open on the tile? Could I also blame the perpetrator on TV and sue for damages?

What would you think if I blamed my son and sent him to his room for the rest of the day? Wouldn’t you be thinking in the back of your head that I should always be on the look out for toys left on the floor since I have one of those things…? Oh, what do you call them?

Oh, yeah.

A kid.

If the scumbag who stole the car gets charged with these four deaths, I think he should then blame his upbringing because his mother beat him with her curling iron; or his father who he never knew; or the male figures in his life who molested him; or the drug dealers who got him hooked on crank; or…

You get my point?

If the pilots had lived, who do you think would be blamed for the crashes? The pilots. But the pilots are dead. Logically, who should now take some responsibility for the crash? Hmmmmmm.

It’s scary how much power, which is wholly unchecked, the media has.

no. 486 – My Blogging Process

I think I may have ADD when it comes to writing and publishing a blog post. I get an idea from one source or another and depending on time and technical factors (do I have access to a computer? is the computer able to get a signal? did the assholes who want us to renew our internet contract get the farkin tower fixed after another company “accidentally” ran into it…?) and I will take that one thought waiting to germinate to my blog and just type it out.

Sometimes I am able to go from point A to point C without creating a draft and editing it several times. Other times it gets stuck in a draft and rarely pulled back out. What prompted my poll was one of the few drafts I revisited that was last saved in April. What usually happens to my drafts is similar to what happens when you’ve found an awesome pair of shoes. On impulse you buy them, take them home, try them on and walk around the house and then realize maybe the shoes were too expensive or they make your ankles look like tree trunks or you hate how the peep toe emphasizes your toe hair. Whatever the reason, you still think they have potential so you don’t return them but shove them deep into your closet for another time.

I am constantly buying new shoes, but rarely wear them out in public. There just isn‘t enough time in the day to “wear“ them all or I worry about how they emphasize my flaws.

Many of my mental drafts come when I read one of your posts and my neurons just pop with ideas and thoughts and opinions. For example, recently these posts inspired me to consider hitchhiking on them for posts of my own.

I had been mulling over in my mind for several days this post by Schmutzie, especially the last four paragraphs. It also made me think how rarely our lives run parallel into infinity from each other. At some point they meet, cross, and then diverge again. A year ago neither of us could have imagined that she would be facing the betrayal of her body in ways that many of us understand so well.

Niobe’s post about looking back forced me to do just that. I posted my comment yesterday and today I returned to see what others had written. When I reread mine, it made me cry (I had to reset my stupid ticker). Have I really lost hope? Have I really become so embittered?

Then I read Kath’s update in which she included a brief but terribly sad note about one of her husband’s colleagues who after years of infertility treatments found herself naturally pregnant at 43. Sadly, she lost the pregnancy and Kath asked rhetorically how could anyone apply the trite saying, “everything happens for a reason,” to that woman’s circumstances? I found myself in that woman’s shoes as someone who is just coming to terms with infertility but getting glimpses of hope all sparkly and pretty but ultimately elusive and nothing more than a cruel mirage. Again, I cried.

Monica had a post about the media’s interpretation of infertility. It made me think about how my opinion does not mesh very well at all with the media’s and how they capitalize on the induced frenzy. For example I could never accept that either of the couples who each most recently delivered the handful-plus-one babies are to be the new “faces of infertility”. I would just love, LOVE! I tell you, to know exactly what their “infertility” problems are. I found myself comparing and ranking my infertility to others in moments of selfishness.

And then there was the email exchange I had with Feebee. Dear sweet Feebee. Our lives are reflected off each each other by the ocean’s waters. She asked me if while Mr. DD and I wait for a donor egg if we have finished trying on our own. Yes and no. I’m keeping track of my cycle, but really that’s all. Or I should say I have no expectations – literally. It made me think about how much I’ve been avoiding thinking about my ambiguity towards the waiting.

So my intent was to follow up on the post about my blogging process, however it was my own blogging process that got in the way. There’s really so much I want to say every day, but many times I can’t find the words to convey those thoughts. I know they are there but they are never as eloquent or as fulfilling as I would like them to be. It’s really not unlike during the middle of a conversation and a word inexplicably gets caught on the tip of your tongue. A verbal speed bump. It’s like…

…oh, I really don’t know.

See what I mean?

no. 484 – Harry Who?


I know how The Book ends because today on the morning radio show one of the speakers said he only read the last chapter and announced how it ended. I wasn’t at all bothered by the spoiler since I have taken no interest in the past 352 HP books, so I couldn’t imagine doing so now…unless of course Harry was able to impregnate a tribe of infertile truffle fairies so they can go about providing the world with an unlimited supply (of truffles, that is, not truffle fairy babies). Only then would I extend some curiosity about that knobby wand of his.


Hivesleftup Today I saw another professional about my hives. Yes, they are still a part of my life, if not on a daily – most certainly weekly – occurrence. I know that it’s been 8 weeks and 1 day from whence they first presented since they decided to debut the day I had my first positive pregnancy test from the last donor IUI. In that time, I have seen four medical personnel about the hives with today’s visit being the fifth. Dr. I-Have-A-Cold-So-I-Won’t-Shake-Your-Hand-But-Will-Get-All-In-Your-Face-To-Look-Up-Your-Nose (Dr. IHACSIWSY H. BWGAIYF-TLUYN (I think he must be from Botswana…) was kind and listened to what I thought may be a far-fetched theory on my hives.

Would you like to hear it?

HivesrightupI told him that my hives were considerably worse during the beginningslashend of my last pregnancy, hopped up on progesterone (remember? My P4 was 98?), and even though they appeared off and on over the next few weeks, they again flared the week before last…which was the end of a successive cycle, which is when the body’s supply of progesterone should be at its highest.

See? I have the pictures to prove it. [Ass cheek! Ass cheek! Yes, I know. Shut up.]

Maybe I’m allergic to my own body’s natural progesterone. Maybe?

They did a rast test for sesame since that was the delivery system of my PIO. If I still am getting hives by the middle of August, they will order in some progesterone for testing. He didn’t think the theory was impossible, and he has had patients with confirmed allergies to certain chemistry makeup of their own bodies. Who knows? I guess I don’t have much to lose and since my uterus is twiddling its tubes waiting for a donor, I’d rather rule out the very slim chance now rather than later when I find out that "implanting" an embryo there gets the same kind of result as throwing some frozen fries into a boiling vat of oil. FAzizzle.


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