Sunday, December 18, 2005

pâte chinnoise

Take random things. Mix them together. Call it a meal.
That, says my husband, is pâte chinnoise.

Where is it?
My period has not arrived. Where the hell is it? I have done everything I can think of to bring it on: sex, pregnancy test, wearing best white panties. Nothing has worked.
What to try next? White linen pants?

Bad Santas
If this keeps up I will most definitely not be getting a reply to my Dear Santa letter.

I have just discovered that there is another blogging
Nina. Like me she has had 4 failed and 2 cancelled IVFs and more than her fair share of heartache and disappointment. In deference to the fact that she arrived first in the blogosphere, and to avoid any confusion, I will now refer to myself as nina2 when I leave comments. Or should it be ninatoo?

My sister has a new boyfriend
He is lovely. Will this complicate the situation if we decide to proceed with a DE cycle with her? I'm guessing yes, but only because everything so far has been complicated, so why shouldn't it get more complicated?

Where is she?
My mother left for India 3 weeks ago. It her first trip back since her father died, and since her recovery from chemo & radiation. I know the trip to her parent's empty house will be difficult for her, but I hope the visits with friends and family will make up for it. I wish she would call to let me know she's okay, but the fact that she hasn't probably means she's too busy visiting, eating and shopping and that's good.

The Island
We watched this movie last night about a futuristic world where people can create clones of themselves as a 'insurance policy'. When you get ill you use the clone for spare body parts. I think the viewer is supposed to be appalled and outraged by this scenario, but I kept thinking how nice it would be if I had a clone to provide me with 2 fresh, healthy, replacement ovaries.

My nephew
My brother has just returned from 1 month in Bordeaux with his wife, 3 yr old and newborn. I am insanely jealous of his good fortune. The 3 yr old is unbelievably cute, as only one's first nephew can be. I ask him if he's learned any french words.
He can say bonjour, ca va, and merci.
'What else?' I ask.
'Candy', he replies.
'How do you say candy?'

Close. Very close.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Dear Santa, I have been good

Dear Santa,

I have been good this past year.
I have eaten all my vegetables.
I have brushed my teeth every morning and every night.
I have flossed everyday sometimes.
I have been been kind to my in-laws, my parents and my siblings.
I have been nice to my friends and co-workers. . I have tried to be nice to most of my friends and co-workers, but it's hard when they keep talking about their kids, and insist on bringing their newborns to work. But I have really really tried.
I have taken my vitamins, supplements, and snakeoil everyday.
I have never once complained (maybe once...okay more than once) about the ultrasounds, the blood tests, the injections, the disappointing results.
I have paid all my credit cards on time, even the ones that show charges of thousands of dollars from a clinic for services I never received.
I have donated to charities, and given spare change to the homeless.
I have been friendly to my neighbours- even the one who filed a complaint against us for building a fence on our own property.
I have gone to work everyday- even when I awoke with puffy eyes from having spent the night crying, even on the days when I wanted to sleep forever. And I have spent most of my workdays actually working, and only surfed the web during lunch hour. Honest.
I have been good to my husband (I know he would like me to be 'good' to him 4 or 5 times a week, but 2 or 3 is all I can manage for now).
I am pretty sure I have not been slothful, lustful, gluttonous, or greedy. And believe me, any pride I had has been poked and prodded into submission.

Envy? Anger? I can't deny those, but I am trying hard not to be angry and envious all the time. Does that count?

So I think, Santa, that I qualify for your 'nice' list this year.

To make things easy for you, I am only asking for one thing this year.
Could I please have a baby?
No toys, no clothes, no books, no candy.
Just one healthy baby. Please.

Santa, I was good last year too, and the year before, but you didn't bring me my present (and yes, I've been asking for the same thing every year). Perhaps you didn't get my letters? Perhaps there was a mix-up, or perhaps you were too busy giving babies to other familes. Because you see, I know many people who already have a baby or two and this past year they received another. I even know people who didn't ask for a baby and still received one.
So, Santa, maybe this year you could check your list thrice instead of twice, just to make sure you've got the right presents going to the right people.
It's not like I'm asking for a rocketship or a pony, or world peace. Now that would be hard. This baby thing should be easy- everybody's got one. Can it be my turn now?

I'm the brown girl in the red brick house on the snowy street in Smallhicktown Canada. We have installed a new fireplace, so please don't use that "you have no chimney" thing as an excuse.

Your friend,

P.S. I really hope I don't have to send you this letter again next year.

Sunday, December 04, 2005


He hates going out in the rain.
Let’s go for a walk I'd say.
It’s raining, he'd protest. ‘I’ll melt.’
‘What, are you made of chocolate?’
Yup, he'd reply with that little grin.

'No, no, no. I’m the one who’s made of chocolate I'd respond', pointing to my brown skin.
‘Well, that makes me white chocolate.’
‘White chocolate isn’t really chocolate’, I’d tease him. ‘You’re just plain-old white’

When we started trying for a baby we’d joke, ‘will it be a white chocolate baby or a milk chocolate baby?’. But our chocolate baby didn’t materialize.
Instead, the ultrasound machine revealed ovaries covered in cysts.
Not just cysts, the doctor said. Chocolate cysts (I thought he was joking….he wasn’t. That’s what they’re really called).
So, I thought… I have chocolate eggs?
Whitechocolatespaceeggs my husband would say (but then he’s a bigger
Liz Phair fan than I).

Fortunately, chocolate eggs are just what you need if you dream of a whitechocolatebaby.