What does a Jewish child need most from a mother? Forget about the chicken soup—it's all about the eggs, say a growing number of prominent rabbis. Several recent rabbinic rulings on fertility treatment dictate that a child conceived in vitro is Jewish only if the egg came from a Jewish woman.
via online.wsj.com
Jewish mamas...what do YOU think?
I did not raise my son, Sam, to celebrate Mother's Day. I didn't want him to feel some obligation to buy me pricey lunches or flowers, some annual display of gratitude that you have to grit your teeth and endure. Perhaps Mother's Day will come to mean something to me as I grow even dottier in my dotage, and I will find myself bitter and distressed when Sam dutifully ignores the holiday. Then he will feel ambushed by my expectations, and he will retaliate by putting me away even sooner than he was planning to — which, come to think of it, would be even more reason to hate Mother's Day.
via www.salon.com
Often, I have chosen to write about Mother's Day. Today, I do not have the strength. However, Author Anne Lamott has a firm voice that speaks volumes about this day.
It's very well written and quite an enjoyable piece. Don't let the title scare you, take the time to read it in its entirety. I promise you that it is worth it.
xo,
Isabel
In 2008 we were approached by some TypePad bloggers about the possibility of writing a "For Dummies" book for TypePad. Naturally we said - YES! Absolutely. If they were prepared to take on the gargantuan task of capturing all the secrets of this little application onto the printed page then who were we to stop them? We were pleased to offer the technical (and moral) support.
This is the book I won! TypePad was kind enough to add a little link to their latest blog entry.
Thanks, TypePad!
xo,
Isabel
There was, however, the Center for Arizona Policy, or CAP. The conservative Christian nonprofit is arguably the most influential lobbying group at the Legislature these days. And CAP didn't just support the bills in question. It also wrote them.
Interesting.
It's time. It's time that I take this baby-making stuff seriously. Right? Yeah.
So, step one is...visit my therapist. Back in November, I opened up Pandora's Box of Buried Reproductive Emotions. Ever since then, every little thing seems to trigger some deep emotion. It's usually raw and painful. And, I'm usually alone or at least try to make it so that I'm alone. And, I'll sneak a cry late at night or in the morning when I'm driving to work or maybe even in a bathroom stall at work.
I finally admitted these feelings, these very depressive feelings, to my husband on Valentine's Day. Wasn't that nice of me? I just couldn't help it. I had spent the entire day before running around photographing some of the most beautiful children I know and gazing at my husband as he played with my sweet 9-month old niece. His eyes were all lit up and he told me so many times how much he was having fun with her because she was just the happiest little baby. And more than once, he poked at me to remind me that we needed to start working on making our own little one.
So, for Valentine's Day, I set out to pick the most wonderful card. To write the most beautiful and romantic thing that I could muster. And, so, there I was with my Sharpie pen all ready to come up with these fabulous words...and then it hit me! The last line of this card said..."When I dream about all the somedays."
And, that's when it sort of smacked me in the face. It's the "somedays." That's what I've been waiting for all this time. Since I was 21 years old, I started on the journey to be a mother. This year it will be 10 years that I began down this path, and many miscarriages and a failed marriage and a new-found love and hope has come my way. So, right as I was doing all this underlining in the card...the dream and the somedays, I lost it. I started crying. Luckily, my Valentine was still sleeping. He didn't know I was sitting in the other room writing out his card and sobbing. I was sobbing because I have come to realize that I am paralyzed with fear. Not only over this whole baby thing, but, just my health in general. They are all so connected to one another. I'm fearful of success. I'm fearful of failure. I'm fearful of fear. It's an awful little cycle I've run myself into.
So, I've decided that my very first step is emotional. I need a lot of strength to venture down this path once again.
I am thankful that many of the women that were in my life many years ago are still around to hold my hand through this all. I am thankful that I hardly have to say anything at all and they will understand me.
And, I'm also thankful that my husband will be there with me. His heart is still so full of hope. He knows that my heart has been shattered in so many ways...that I know he has the strength to help me pick up the pieces should it break again. And that hopefully his will remain intact and that he'll have enough hope and courage for the both of us.
XO,
Isabel
I'm often annoyed by one little thing. I have a dSLR camera and I love to take photos. As a matter of fact, it's my passion. It's also a dream of my mine to have my own thriving business full-time doing this thing that I love.
I've spent many years reading and learning and trying to take better photographs. I practice different exposures, lighting, composition, subjects--you name it! Am I the best? No way! I have so much to learn and look for inspiration daily. There are so many photographers out there that are my muses.
This being said, there is still one giant pet peeve that I have.
"What a great photo! What kind of camera do you use?"
I found a blog that had a great list including the top 10 annoying things to say to a wildlife photographer.
The #1 thing...
1. Wow, you must have a really nice camera!
Yeah, and that painter must have had a really great easel. Seriously, a nice camera? Are you referring to my new K-Tel Autocapture 3000 that not only takes care of all of those confusing exposure calculations, won’t let me make an image that isn’t optimally composed and automatically chooses the perfect instant to make a photograph? Sure, quality tools will help produce a quality photograph. But until the Autocapture 3000 actually ships, it is still the photographer who makes decisions on exposure, subject, setting, timing, and composition.
I have this argument all the time with those that know me really well. And I have comebacks like, yes, and that guitar plays really good melodies. Or, hey, give me your pencil! I can sketch like you can, Picasso!
Now, I'm not saying I'm the greatest, but, have a little respect for the person BEHIND the camera. You know, the person actually composing this photograph. It isn't the camera doing all the work. I bet you I can hand off my camera to some of these people and give them the same subject and we will turn out very different images. This is not dissimilar to writing a poem or even a novel. We are all different and have our own talents. Don't downplay the photographer by trying to pretend it was the camera that did all the work.
XO,
Isabel
A new study says by age 30, women have about 12 percent of the eggs they were born with. CNN's Elizabeth Cohen reports.Health News - Medical, Mental and Dental Treatment - Beauty, Nutrition and Fitness - CNN.com
via www.cnn.com
What do you think? You only have 12% of your eggs at 30? How sad.
When I was undergoing fertility treatments once-upon-a-time, it was blogging that helped me get through it all. Now that all that IF crud is coming back up and becoming a giant lump in my throat, I thought it appropriate that I venture on back to the blogosphere and continue on my path.
For a good while now, I was pretending in my heart and mind that the problems of my past were just that; past. That the bad seed was literally just a bad seed and that my tomorrows would bring a promise of good things. Fertile things.
But, as time moves forward, I'm forced to realize that I have the bad soil. It doesn't matter how many lizards or frogs or eggs or any other fertility charm I bring into my life. They won't work. I can have faith and hope and think good things. I can read books on visualization and see myself pregnant or holding my baby, but it won't happen. I can "relax" or "not think about it" or follow any of the well-meaning, but unrealistic, advice that others dish out. It still won't work.
And, so...here I am. Still the one with the bad soil. The barren ground that is split wide open.
So, what's holding me back now? Fear? Failure? Sadness? Probably everything. Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear that I'll get what I wish for...just not 100%. I always complain that I always get what I wish for...but, usually not exactly in the same form. And maybe all those times I wished for things, and ALMOST got what I had wished for, were meant to be a lesson to me. Meant for me to learn something from it. Isn't that what life is all about?
So, here I am. I'm ready to face that it was not the seed, but the soil. That the soil, with tenderness, moisture, tilling and fertilizer can perhaps turn itself around. That the soil can be hospitable and fruitful. That with the right seed it can grow wonderful things.
Go! Go! Garden Gloves!
XO,
Isabel
Now that we've been married for over 3 months, the questions have started trickling in. Maybe not even questions but simple comments. "You're next." "When are you two going to have one?"
I knew those questions would be popping up soon. And, for the most part, I'm okay with them. I can just say "we're working on it." I'm excited because my sister is expecting her first baby. This gives me a tremendous amount of hope.
My biggest fear is fear! I'm not sure what I'm afraid of, but I have a feeling I'm most afraid of unraveling some old feelings. They're usually kept tucked away and starting to really "try" would just be tugging at the string that would unravel the ball.
I have hope and a really good feeling that everything is going to be okay this time. I think I'll have a few more battles, but my happily ever after will be here soon.
I picked up the box. I vaguely recalled what would be in there. Once I cracked open the first flap of the box, I knew. All of the paper from my old computer desk. Not only the paper, but the various other little things that reminded me of the day I packed them all up over three years ago. The magnets. The pacifier. The needles and instruction booklet on insulin. The phone-book sized medical file. The photos. The bills. The ultrasounds of pregnancy #2, AKA 46,XX. The e-mails to them from him.
It all came flooding back. All the pain and hurt I felt that many years ago. The sadness, the heartbreak. Yet, on some real level, I felt at peace. I felt comforted that I am at a whole new place. That I was able to tuck that hurt into my heart and move on with life. That I have a kindling of hope still burning within me that simply makes me feel that life is still worth living.
Dramatic, ha? Yeah, it pretty much helps me keep going, simply because some days, I'm never quite sure what I'm working towards or if those goals have any meaning to me anymore. There are days I want to give up. Give up on everything. I try very hard just to keep it together. Just to keep waking up each day and deal with the new stuff that will await me.
Infertility left a pretty bad scar. Will I ever recover?