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BlogHer: a cure for infertility?

2007-10-16 - 10:39 a.m.

There’s a new angle they could exploit when advertising for next year’s conference: Tired of all those pesky drugs and costly ART interventions? Why don’t you come “just relax” at BlogHer?”

I don’t know if it’s something in the Chicago water, or maybe it’s the massive dose of pheromones produced by 800 women bloggers all in a room together, but Zoot, Marilyn and I are all pregnant and we’ve all had a history of fertility problems. Marilyn and I both, in fact, got pregnant without Clomid this round, which we’ve both always needed to conceive in the past. I also got word through my comments section (see that link to leave comments? Nice isn’t it? Go on, hit it and leave me some love!) that the lovely Pamela, who I also met at BlogHer, is “in the family way” as well.

Susan and Nancy, y’all’d better look out!


While not obsessed with them as I was last time, I confess that I spent a short time today perusing the odd “what’s happening now” pregnancy website. And so far, like last time, my mental tallying is going something like,
“You’re tired all the time.” Nope.
“You’re wondering how to combat the nausea of morning sickness.” Nuh-uh.
“Blame your increased metabolism and growing uterus for the fact that you’re running to the bathroom all the time.” Nyet.
“Your boobs are becoming sore and you may want to wear a light-support sports bra to bed… but don't worry, breast growth will slow within the next three weeks.” HAA HAAA HA!

Last time round? My boobs didn’t even require me to buy a new, bigger-sized bra until, like, the last couple of weeks, and that was only in anticipation of the increase that would come when the milk came in. Breast growth will slow? I freakin’ hope not: it’s supposed to be one of the few side benefits of being knocked up and, even then, I missed out on it last time.


Are farts funny in your household? They are in mine. They didn’t used to be when I was with previous, more uptight boyfriends (while with my last boyfriend, I used to wake up if I farted in my sleep, fearful that I had been heard farting, oh my), but J’s a lot more relaxed and has, I think, a healthier attitude towards bodily functions.

The other night I was sitting in the glow of the computer monitor, Grommet on my lap, when I let an uncharacteristically stinky air biscuit fly. The Grom wrinkled her nose, waved her hand in the air, and proclaimed loudly, “Yucky!” I totally snorted trying not to laugh too loudly and wake J up.

I’d always thought it interesting that babies don’t seem to find poop stinky, so I guess maybe her olfactory sensibility is maturing? Is this a milestone I should be writing down in her neglected baby book? Hee!

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