Hello out there,
Well, after 5 years of being a blog reader, I've decided to try my hand at being a blog writer. I've hemmed and hawed about starting a blog for so long that I've lost track of what it was to be about. Firstly it will be about me trying to get pregnant (I know, yawn, yet another infertility blogger). Secondly it will be about food, and my love hate relationship with cooking excellent food and the consequences of eating said food. Thirdly, it will be about general funny, irritating, or even inspiring stuff.
Firstly:
I am 37 years old, duly analyzed, and not pregnant, even after 18 months of peeing on sticks, hiking my hips up after the procedure, and trying an IUI or 3. Essentially, I'm just old, and there isn't anything 'wrong'. That is a relief, and a disappointment. As any of you who are going through infertility know, if you can't be pregnant with a baby, the least you can do is be pregnant with activities and paper. That being said, actually having a 'problem' sucks, so there is really no preferred way to be infertile. Except to wake up from a bad dream that you are infertile to find out that you've magically become pregnant without any grief along the way. Uh, yeah, that happens all the time.
So next month, around Valentines day, I'll start popping birth control pills, learning how to shove needles in my belly and watching my husband turn pale as he contemplates giving me shots in the behind. FUN!
Secondly:
As for cooking, at the moment I'm on WW, trying to get rid of 15lbs I packed on during 18 futile 2-week-waits. So more on cooking later.
Thirdly:
The name of this blog comes from the Joni Mitchell song Amelia. This song has always spoken to me, no matter what stage I am at in my life, it just gets to me and makes me think and usually cry. As I was sitting at my computer trying to come up with a blog name, I knew that there was one in that song. I started with "beautiful foolish arms", a reference to the line about Icarus, but my husband pointed out that Icarus died, and that was not the goal of the endeavor (damn him and his Ivy league education--I bet I forgot to read the end of the myth...) and that wanting to have a baby isn't foolish. Which made me cry--another sign that I was on the right track. As I looked further the idea of 'dreams and false alarms' started to make more sense. In the song she talks about thinking she sees one thing (vapor trails are really the strings of her guitar), but realizes it is a false alarm, and that it is really much more real and concrete. For me, the dream of getting pregnant turned out to be so much more tangled up in my past (both the parts I created, and the parts I was born into) than I could have imagined. So the dream part of the title refers to what I want, and the false alarms refers to what I thought I saw, and tortured myself with, only to realize later that it was a false alarm, a fake test, and not the arbiter of my souls progress. More on that when we know each other better, 'k?
So a few ground rules:
(Yes, I am going to have the hubris to imagine that someone will actually comment on my blog.)
-Be nice to me and each other
-There will be no talk of "If you can't get pregnant on your own, you don't deserve to be a mother."
-Cussing is ok, as long as it funny or is used to agree with me when I think someone is a an asshat (see that was funny!)
-Any and all ground rules that I deem to be necessary.
Welcome, thanks for reading. See you soon.
Here is Amelia:
I was driving across the burning desert
When I spotted six jet planes
Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain
It was the hexagram of the heavens
it was the strings of my guitar
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
The drone of flying engines
Is a song so wild and blue
It scrambles time and seasons if it gets thru to you
Then your life becomes a travelogue
Of picture-post-card-charms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
People will tell you where they've gone
They'll tell you where to go
But till you get there yourself you never really know
Where some have found their paradise
Other's just come to harm
Oh Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I wish that he was here tonight
It's so hard to obey
His sad request of me to kindly stay away
So this is how I hide the hurt
As the road leads cursed and charmed
I tell Amelia, it was just a false alarm
A ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly
Like Icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
Maybe I've never really loved
I guess that is the truth
I've spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I pulled into the Cactus Tree Motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams, Amelia, dreams and false alarms