Nothing says, “Party Pooper” like telling someone to fuck off, no?

While logging onto WordPress, this was the headline from a blog: “Fans are outraged by Infinity Challenge”. At first I thought it said, “Fans are outraged by Infertility Challenge”. Now THAT’S  post I would read.

“Hey, DD, how about the year in review!”

Why, sure! Love to.

January 2008 – First trimester of ZGirl’s pregnancy and I was sure I would miscarry any day.

February 2008 – Made it to second trimester of ZGirl’s pregnancy and I was sure I would miscarry any day.

March 2008 – Bought a minivan and my husband discharged a rifle accidentally  in my parents’ house…and I was sure I would miscarry any day.

April 2008 – Made it to six months and every one knows. While no longer fearing I will miscarry any day, I am still babygear shy.

May 2008 – Actually purchased my first major babygear and blogging like a “normal” pregnant person. Why didn’t you smack me when I got annoying like that?

June 2008 – Eight months pregnant and so over the hype.

July 2008 – Surprise! It’s a girl!

August 2008 – Exhaustion.

September 2008 – Exhaustion Part Deux.

October 2008 – Back to work. Yuck.

November 2008 – I’ve become a mommyblogger and talk about breastfeeding! *shudder*

December 2008 – Took a break from blogging. Came back from break. Not much of a break if I was to be honest.

Wow. I’m dull.

And for 2009’s Resolution? I don’t believe in resolutions, but this seems like a good start:


Pass the valium and champagne!!

Happier 2009 to you all!


Whenever I hear or read something that infuriates me, it is a true test of my patience not to go off half-cocked. Doing so normally gets me into trouble and I end up eating shoe leather.

On the other hand, once I’ve cooled off or had time to research, I get bogged down by my rational side trying to convince me to be fair. To present both sides. To not offend. Unfortunately, it then loses all meaning.

This will be one of those posts that will either piss you off or it will not. I won’t apologize if it does. I will add that none of your comments on the poll, which are now also published, were taken any other way but with sincere openess.

Does becoming a sperm donor or egg donor make one a “mother” or “father”? I guess it depends on who you ask.



As I thought about this over and over again, I realized that the ONLY people NOT referring to the donors as Mother and Father were the donors themselves. So why is every one else?

If I thought about the literal sense of donation, then Fathers would be made with every one night stand. Mothers would be made every time there was unprotected sex during ovulation.

That doesn’t count, you say, because there was no intent?

OK, so for any couple who has gone through IVF, IUI or even procreative sex, they became Mothers and Fathers even if there was no conception, right?

Now I’m just being argumentative, you say?

Yes, I am, because our society has become so uptight in our pursuit of being politically correct even when it logically makes no sense to do so. What’s wrong with the donor being called a Donor?

What bug flew up my butt and inspired the poll (final results were 74.59% said no, donors do not become mothers/fathers while 24.59% said they did, which at one point was as high as 33%, and there were 51 votes)?

This comment to a thread I subscribed to. I won’t link the thread because the response really had nothing to do with the topic:

I was conceived through an anonymous sperm ‘donation’ (no money exchanged) back in the mid 1960’s through a private doctor practice. I learned of my conception origins at 18 but didn’t feel entitled to acknowledge the confusion this created for me until I had children of my own.

It was only until I saw how much my children were a part of, not only my husband and me, but our collective (bio/genetic) families. This was no long just a personal loss, this was much bigger than me. I searched for my biological father (my parents donor) after the birth of our second child and learned that because I was not of his marriage that I and my children (his grandchildren) could never be acknowledged, recognized or embraced by him – our extended bio/genetic family (grandparents/half siblings/aunts/uncles/cousins etc) or know or be a part of our family ancestry/history.

I see many reasons why donor (especially vendor) gametes/traditional surrogacy is wrong, not for religious reasons but for human dignity reasons. Knowing a name is not the same as being loved and embraced. These methods of conception are not the same as adoption, although they share many issues in common. Adoption (which has many ethical issues of its own), as an institution, is very pro-child. Adoption does not intentionally separate a person from their bio/genetic mother/father/family. It recognizes this separation as a tragedy. BUT donor/vendor/traditional surrogacy intentionally creates a child that will not be loved nurtured, unconditionally embraced or supported by one or both of their bio/genetic parents and extended family. This puts adults wants for a child (pre-conception), before the needs of a child (post- conception).

Of course people conceived through donor/vendor/surrogacy need to be accepted, loved, supported (THAT MUCH MORE SO) by the Catholic/faith community. But these methods of conception — when a child/person is intentionally created in a way that PROHIBITS them (and their future children) from being acknowledged, embraced, loved and nurtured in a fully inclusive way by ALL the people they come from and belong to — do not.

Verbatim and in its entirety.

I do feel sorry for this person as she found out what I think is too late in life that she was donor conceived, but third-party conception has a rather slow learning curve. No one knows the impact of what we tell or don’t tell our children until that moment, and usually it’s too late. In another 20 years, will the trend to tell your child as soon as they are toddling that there was a donor or they were adopted or were bore by a surrogate, come back and bite us on the ass? In some form or another, yes. That child will probably resent “feeling” different then other children. Then again, some children never have an issue. It really is a matter of perspective on life and temperament.

Also, I find myself asking, hypothetically, what right did this person have in asking to be embraced by her donor and his extended family? His donation was not intended to increase his genetic lineage so it seems a rather large leap to assume that 30 years later, he would welcome with open arms that possibility by a stranger. Not only would I never expect ZGirl’s genetic donor to ever acknowledge her if the two were ever to learn of each other’s identity, I also would never demand ZGirl to acknowledge the donor’s family as her own. The donor’s children are not my daughter’s half-sisters or half-brothers. These are terms modern society puts out there to both welcome, and yet exclude, children in a mixed marriage. They are titles to make sure that the Consanguine Family never rises again, and rightfully so.

It was this statement that pushed me over the edge, “Adoption does not intentionally separate a person from their bio/genetic mother/father/family. It recognizes this separation as a tragedy. BUT donor/vendor/traditional surrogacy intentionally creates a child that will not be loved nurtured, unconditionally embraced or supported by one or both of their bio/genetic parents and extended family.”

Adoption is the most intentional form of separation  out there! While I understand her intent in the statement, there is no such thing as an “accidental adoption” unless it’s a swapping of newborns in the hospital.

And to state that donor and surrogacy intentionally creates a child that will not be loved, nurtured or unconditionally embraced or supported by the genetic parents and the extended family??!! Fuck her. And fuck her “non-bio” family for screwing her over by making her feel as if the only unconditional love she could get was from her genetic father and his family since it seems apparent that they did not provide it themselves..

I am not so arrogant to believe that my anger about the quote is directed purely at this stranger. I am angry that it made me question the choices we made. The choices we will eventually make with our own children. How dare I allow some one else’s shitty experience cloud the utter joy I have when my daughter reaches for me, smiles at me, laughs at me. Her mother. Her ONLY  mother.


What do you think would happen on the day that you decide not to take a shower; or put on make-up; or style your hair? You know, since you are only going to your Mom & Dad’s for a soup lunch?

Or on the day following Christmas so every new toy has been systematically disassembled on the living room floor, including both sets of K’Nex, and the kitchen table has been modified to be the new PixO’s factory, but since the baby still isn’t mobile there’s no hurry to get it all picked up yet?

Or even on the day after your sister spent the night on the sleeper sofa in the den but wasn’t sure if she’d sleep at Mom & Dad’s that night or again on the sleeper so you leave it set up?

Why, I’ll tell you what happens:

On your way back from Mom & Dad’s at 6:15 p.m., your husband, who is in a separate vehicle because he wasn’t ready to go when you were so you left him behind but who still made you late enough that you missed the phone call from your sister who lives in Jordan, decides to call his buddy who is in town himself for the holidays and invite him to come over.

At 6:45 p.m.

With his wife…who is Swedish….and a model. Yes, really, a Swedish model.

And their one year old boy who is quite mobile.

I don’t know about you, but I screamed inside my head the whoooooole time.

But that’s just me.


The holiday season never fails to remind me why children grow up and move away from home.

Le sigh.

The in-laws decided that we would exchange gifts just between the little kids. Great idea as I never know what to get any of the adults. Well, unless it’s something I’m regifting back to them.

They asked for a list for XBoy and ZGirl so I sent them one.

Not sure why I bothered since neither of them got anything on their lists. Just to give you an idea of how “complicated” the list was, the only thing on ZGirl’s was books. Don’t ask how many books she got (one).


Even when we try to make gift-giving simple, it becomes a fiasco.

Speaking of such, my husband got me a label maker.

Not sure why, but he did. I pulled it out of it’s box and read half-assedly through the instructions. Sadly, I’m not feeling it and I’m afraid to ask him to return it. I remember what happened the year he got me a slide for a necklace with an emerald in it. Nothing against emeralds, but it’s not my birth stone, nor the birthstone of anyone close to me. When I tried to explain that to him, his pissiness was enough to keep me from ever suggesting his subsequent gifts were anything other than perfect.

That said, I must not have made enough sarcastic comments about the amount of dust rhinos inhabiting the house to inspire him to hire someone to come in once-a-week and clean so I could make sure all my Christmas candies would be consumed without interruption. Obliviousness must be contagious. He constantly hints about the lack of nooky and I haven’t given in to that, either.

Tis the season, and all that jive.

So…how was your weekend?


I got my first real period since October 2007. I forgot how much fun they were!

It was the first time I went to bed in the master bedroom and woke up in the master bedroom. The new three month old mattress is fucking awesome!

That means it was the first time I did NOT sleep in ZGirl’s room since September. That doesn’t sound pathetic or anything does it?

ZGirl slept through the night for the first time. Almost. 9:30 to 5:30 at which time she woke, ate, and went right back to sleep.

She’s also getting her first tooth. I can feel it juussssst below the gum. Maybe if I keep pushing on it, it’ll pop through like a rivet?

Her first cold. Well, if colds last for 10 weeks, that is.

The first full day came and went where she did not breast feed. She wants nothing to do with my hormonally charged breast milk.

Also, the first full day I didn’t pump, either. As I tweeted, the milk factory is closing due to the poor economy. As excited as she gets when she sees a bottle, you would never know that just a month ago she would shriek at the sight of a bottle.

Her first ER visit, but I’ve already covered that.

I wish I could report her first roll-over from back to front, but alas, I still cannot. It has nothing to do with strength, either, as she can sit up on her own for a few seconds and do the airplane on her tummy.

She wore her first pair of tights and a dress this weekend. I’m hooked. And oh-so-screwed.


Have you voted? On the poll? Do so so I can close that SOB down and turn off comment moderation. Thanks.