31 October 2006

Should I carry a lucky rabbit's foot, too?

Blog at work. Heh. You guys are funny. If I had time to blog at work, I wouldn't have a dilemma, now would I? Silly infertiles. So apparently, the answer how to find time to blog is to ignore the laundry, don't go grocery shopping, and especially don't take time to shave my legs. I could do TWO entries in the time it takes me to de-fuzz. And besides, I wear long skirts, so no one will see the hairy gams anyway. And sex is right out.

Speaking of infertiles, a couple Hubby and I know just had twins. Yep, they use the same clinic we do. They know we're also part of the club.* There's a great tradition in Judaism of segulot, practices to bring about events. For instance, if you are wanting to conceive, immerse in a mikvah (ritual bath) immediately after a woman about to give birth. Or, hand the baby from the father to the mother at a brit milah, or circumcision ceremony.

Yeah, that one. The new parents called us and wanted to give us the "honour" of that segulah. I put "honour" in quotes, because while we're really touched and flattered that they thought of us,
    a) Everyone in the room would know exactly why we were doing that. It would be like we're the chick in the bikini who carries the big sign with the Round Number on it during a boxing match.

    2) We don't believe in segulot. They are like talismans, good luck charms, superstitions, which are all forbidden according to Jewish law. If G-d intends for us to have children, the means for earning enough money will come along if we do our part (ie, go out and get jobs), not because we tied a red ribbon around our wrist.**

    C) Holding a baby during a ceremony will not rub any "baby dust" onto us, nor will it suddenly make $10,000 drop into our lap.***

    iv) Holding an 8-day old infant whom I know was conceived using IVF would make me bawl like an idiot, and I'd be in front of all those people. And I'd probably drop the baby.

As it turned out, we weren't able to go, anyway. It was during the day, and we both had to work (yes, Hubby got a new job, too!), so we had a ready-made excuse without having to embarass this lovely couple or ourselves. Again, we appreciate their thoughtfulness, and are grateful they considered us. Our issue is with the practice, not the people.

But still... there is a teeny, tiny part of me that wonders, what if...?

*To rebut the great Groucho Marx: "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member." Some clubs don't give you much choice.

**This is not to be confused with the oft-quoted-by-well-meaning-idiots, "Maybe you aren't meant to have children." It may seem the same on the surface, but it is very different. Trust me.

***Although, if a) is true, then perhaps all the people at the
Brit Milah will feel sorry for us, and give us $10,000.

24 October 2006


Omigosh, how do you people do it?! I started a job a few weeks ago (yay, me.) that hopefully will help us pay some bills and actually save (ha!) some money for another cycle. (I know, it's a dream world, but it's MY dream world.)

After a ridiculous commute, by the time I get home, I am so tired and brain-dead, that I barely have the energy to do the few household chores I do. And don't even talk to me about Mt. Vesuvius aka "exploding pile of laundry." Just. don't. go. there.

How the heck do you guys BLOG??? I'm sneaking this in in between tasks, but I don't normally 'do good blog' under this kind of pressure. Someone let me in on the secret, please? pretty please?

And don't tell me I have to sacrifice any sleep. I need my sleep. Get v cranky without enough sleep. Grrr.

16 October 2006

In the beginning

So why is it that hearing about a couple whose children were all born through IVF doesn't make happy for them - or even nod and say, "that's nice" - it just makes me cry? I don't feel any 'sympatico' feelings towards them, I don't feel like these are people I can bond with, and even though I should, I certainly don't feel like here are people who understand.

I just cry.

And then, the next day, we read Breishit, Genesis, the first parsha, or chapter, in the Torah, and out loud, for everyone to hear, the reader bellows "p'ru ur'vu, be fruitful and multiply" (maybe he didn't bellow, maybe it just seemed like it to my hypersensitive ears).

I didn't actually believe everyone was pointing at me, thinking, "you can't fulfill that, nya-nya-nya-nya-nya." I just felt like they were.

13 October 2006

Torah dreamin'

This post isn't going to make a lot of sense to a lot of people, but some of you might find it funny. Anyone who wants to try to analyze the following dream, go for it!

Some background: I'm very blessed to be part of a community that encourages women's Torah readings on Simchat Torah, the holiday where we celebrate the culmination of reading the cycle of Torah by immediately starting right from the beginning again. Traditionally, there is dancing, singing and all-around joy-making. There are many more observant communities, however, where women do not have the opportunity to read Torah, carry the Torah, hold the Torah or dance with the Torah. Halachically (according to Jewish law), there is no reason why women can't hold and dance with the Torah (women reading Torah is a long, complicated issue that involves too much explanation for this post); it's a matter of minhag, or custom, that some orthodox shuls see as iron-clad and unchangeable. So Simchat Torah isn't necessarily a joyous holiday for a lot of observant women.

On to the dream:
I entered the shul that is hosting the women's reading, and someone immediately handed me a Torah to carry. But I noticed people were standing around talking, and the service had somehow come to a halt, so I turned around to hand the Torah back to the men's section, but there was no one there to take it. I turn back to the room, where a group of people are socializing, which is completely disrespectful when the Torah is out, and holler, "Hel-LLLLLOH! Carrying the Torah, here!"

Nobody pays me no never mind, so I go up to the bima (the table where the Torah scroll is placed for reading) to put the Torah into the Aron Hakodesh, or ark, myself. But when I open the door to the ark, it opens into a room, where kids are playing and a smaller ark is against the wall. The doors are open, the Torahs are exposed, and these kids are playing (again, disrespectful). I must have put the Torah away at that point. I left the little room, and find myself back in the sanctuary, which has been cleared of benches. And the mechitza (partition). Men and women are mingling together in the back of the room! The raised women's section has been taken down and is now just extra floor space!

I'm angry, because this is an orthodox shul. I agreed to read Torah for the women's reading because I knew the women would be in a separate area from the men. But apparently, the rules have been changed. This shul decided Simchat Torah was the time to shake things up and have men and women sit together. I won't read in this environment.

The real shocker came when I was standing there, trying to figure out what to do, who to talk to, when I realize:

MY HAIR IS UNCOVERED!!! I have no scarf or hat on!

For me, that's like being naked. It's the same feeling as when you realize that you've been walking around for half an hour with your skirt tucked into your underpants after using the washroom. Or what celebrities feel like when a boob accidently pops out of their barely-there Oscar gown.

Oh, wait. They like when that happens. Publicity. Right.

Anyway, I think that was the end of my dream. I don't remember anything after that (too shocked, perhaps?). Isn't there some Freudian thing about being naked in a dream? Who knows what it means, but in a weird way, it's comforting. If I'm upset about a breach of Jewish law, and having my hair uncovered in my dreams, then I've made the right choice in reality.

(Ohhhhh, maybe this ties in with the family crap I mentioned in my previous post? Hmm...)

G-d's little punching bag

You remember those blow-up Bozo the Clown punching dolls? I feel like G-d has one with my face on it.

As most of you know, Hubby and I are dealing with a severe lack of finances. Not just from IF, but also Hubby's been out of work for a long time. Some of the things that happen as a result of being out of work (and not eligible for EI) are bills get backed up and taxes don't get paid promptly. And in Canada, apparently, the tax men don't call you back when you leave loads and loads of messages for them. (Thankfully, their system keeps track of who calls and when, so we have proof that we've been trying - very hard - to get in touch with them. Yeah, something to keep in mind next time you want to drunk dial Revenue Canada.)

Every time we get close to seeing some relief, something hits the fan. Something happens to pull us back into the sinkhole that is our life. Something happens to remind us that happiness, for us, is all a grand illusion.

So, Hubby and I are all excited because he finally got a short term contract. A short term contract that will allow us to comfortably pay rent for the next two months.

Or so we thought.

It has to go to Revenue Canada. However, they're going to be nice and let us just pay them most of Hubby's paycheque, rather than all. Gee, thanks, guys.

Add to that stupid family crap (it's not easy being observant when your family isn't and thinks you're just making up stuff to be ornery), annoying in-law crap, a nasty flare-up with my chronic condition that is making just getting around, never mind sleeping, very difficult and you have a very cranky, very down-in-the-dumps projgen.

Oh yeah, you can add finally accepting (well, trying to) the fact that we will never have children of our own. Taking my age into consideration and how long it will likely take us to save up the money for another cycle (especially given how G-d apparently likes to get His heavenly kicks out of keeping me miserable), the chances of us having a biological child? Can you say "nil"?

Now if I can just get people to stop saying, "Don't give up! I know it will happen, I just know it!"

>>punch<<     >>punch<<     >>punch<<

06 October 2006


ms. x tagged me before she got dumped on by jerks and ended her blog. But it was just before Rosh Hashana (what was she thinking?!) so I promised her I'd do it, but after Yom Kippur.

So here goes:

Parsley - the green stuff that Hubby insists on putting on almost all my food. Sometimes I eat it. Mainly only at a Passover seder, after dipping it into salt water.

Cardboard - boxes. I moved a lot as a kid, so we were always packing and unpacking. Usually liquor store boxes; Dad was cheap. When I moved into my current home, I recycled ALL my cardboard boxes. This is the first time in my life, I don't have about 15 boxes broken down and stored somewhere.

Kosher - me! My kitchen, my food. Unnecessarily expensive. Spiritually better for me. Did you know, with all the ruckus various groups make about gays and how the Bible says homosexuality is wrong (we'll go into interpretations another time), the Torah (bible) only mentions homosexuality twice, and one of them is sort of an afterthought. It mentions keeping kosher five separate times. That's why I like this website.

Ice - ice, baby. Yeah, great, now I've got stupid Vanilla Ice in my head. Thanks. Dang-de-de-dang dang-dang-dang.

I think I'll tag:
Lut C.


Think of this as just my way of saying thanks for reading and putting up with my lack of posting lately. ;)