Drowning

I went to the mikvah this week, for the first time since we started actual fertility treatment. (I don't count the metformin.) I'm usually very matter-of-fact about my preparation and tevilah; I think the mitzvah and associated hstory are beautiful in theory, but somewhat burdensome in practice. This time, even though I was running around from place to place all day and was stressed (and hungry) by the time I made it to the mikvah, I had resolved to make some kind of effort to infuse this immerision with a level of spirituality.

And then I get there, and discover that the attendant on duty is pregnant. Quite visibly so.

Okay, deep breath, I can handle this. She escorts me to my prep room. I turn on the faucet to fill the tub, remove my makeup, get undressed. Give myself a solid look in the mirror and slip into the pleasantly warm water. Play with the washcloth for a few minutes. Try to relax. Maybe I even talk to God a little, but it's hard to tell, since God's not talking back. I slowly wash each part of my body, concentrating on the skin and trying not to think of the malfunctioning organs beneath the surface. I contemplate the red dots scattered across my belly; it seems that all healing must come from without, not within. I stand up, shower, rinse my hair well and comb out the tangles. I give my feet a careful once-over, examine myself in the mirror, and look myself in the eye. This can work. This isn't a failure; it's a new chance.

I call for the mikvah attendant. As I wait for her to arrive, I sit back down, rest my forehead in my hands, and focus on the good things to come that evening: a warm dinner and a kiss from my husband (probably not in that order). The attendant knocks on the door connecting my prep room to the nearest immersion pool. I focus on her eyes. She warns me that the water here is on the cool side and asks me whether I'd like to go across the hall where the pool is a little warmer. I decline, thinking that the cooler water may be just the kind of refreshment I need. I've entered on the far side of the room from the stairs down into the water, and so the attendant and I have to swap places along the narrow floorspace.

The mikvah lady gestures at her belly and giggles: "This gets harder as I get bigger." A look of shock, I'm sure, falls across my face, and I bite my lower lip before I can start crying. Silently, staring at the floor, I hold out my hands for her to inspect and slip my feet out of their paper slippers for her approval. I turn, remove my robe, step into the water, and immerse in my tears.

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This morning I had my fourth ultrasound and blood draw of the week, which makes five in eight days for this cycle (and we're not done yet). You'll be disappointed, but not probably not surprised, to hear that I still have no measurable follicles on either side. The promising 10 mm buds on the right are still just over 10 mm. I'm sure my estrogen level is equally pathetic. And I'm sure I'll be back at the clinic bright and early on Sunday for another peep show.

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Update (1:45 PM): Nurse Space Cadet this time. E2 is up to 65.3; LH and progesterone are still low. Continue at 100 units tonight and tomorrow. Back in at 7:15 AM Sunday. I convinced her to schedule my Tuesday appointment now, so I managed to snag a 7:15 slot for that day as well. Nurse Spacey also said that they would give this cycle "another couple of weeks" before calling it a bust...

The Mind Churns, The Heart Yearns

Dear, sweet, sassy Akeeyu needs your love. She and Sam found out today that Good Embryo died, probably about a week ago. I'm sure most of you have heard already, but just in case...

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We finally had a conversation with Rabbi Spock last night. Well, more like I had a conversation, while Ezra listened in on an extension and made faces when I said something embarrassing. To him, I mean. Because there's nothing at all about this fertility treatment business that's embarrassing to me. Of course.

Short answers,* for those who care: (1) Schedule the HSG for day 2 or 3 of shiva neki'im (probably day 8-ish of my cycle, which I think will fall over a weekend, which may not be doable), switch to colored underwear for the rest of the seven days, and skip all remaining bedikot except for one on day 7 (cycle day 12 or 13 - are you still with me?) (2) Injections on Shabbat - no problem. (3) Well, one quasi-problem. Don't use alcohol pads, unless you can verify they are synthetic material. Instead, pour rubbing alcohol over the injection site and wipe it away with a tissue. (4) Ezra can give me the HCG shot, if necessary, when I am still niddah, if I am unable to do so myself and we cannot ask another woman to do so for me. "Cannot ask" apparently includes "we don't want to tell our friend the nurse that we're dealing with these issues." If he does this while I'm niddah, he should try to minimize contact with me, and wear latex gloves. Kinky! (5) IUI post-mikvah: no problem. Follow the semen-procural procedural hierarchy as discussed before. (6) If we find ourselves needing IUI before I go to the mikvah, it can be done, but call back for details.

Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Injectibles lesson and consult tomorrow. Five thousand hours of work to do and a shortened workday in which to do it. At least it'll be distracting...

* These are the answers to our questions. Please do not accept them as solutions for your own situation, and be sure to read the disclaimer in my sidebar.

Infertility and Rabbis

Yesterday's New York Times had an article on rabbinical students at Yeshiva University getting some basic training in matters of infertility. Topics included "everything from the shelf life of sperm samples to the mechanics of intracytoplasmic fertilization to the ethics of pre-implantation genetic diagnosis." The article mentioned a few of the more complicated situations that may arise:

"Let's say a woman has a fully functional womb but her eggs are not viable," said Rabbi Kenneth Brander of Yeshiva, the course instructor. "Her sister says, 'Take some of my eggs.' Who's the aunt and who's the mother?" He went on. "What is the relationship between son and father where conception happened posthumously? Does the son say Kaddish for the father?" he asked, referring to the Jewish prayer for the dead.

If a couple has six girls and seeks fertility treatment to try for a boy, may they destroy a fertilized egg of the wrong gender? Can a husband in a divorce unilaterally destroy the couple's stockpile of frozen fertilized eggs?

"This is not like 'Star Trek' science," said Rabbi Brander, a dean at Yeshiva, which has the largest Orthodox rabbinical seminary in the country. "This is stuff that comes up every day. And if the rabbi doesn't understand reproductive technology he can't answer the questions effectively. If he doesn't know the Jewish law he can't answer them, either."

And, later:

There will always be some questions that elude easy answers. What if a single woman in her 20's wants to put off motherhood to pursue a career and seeks to freeze some of her eggs for later use? Jews are instructed to multiply fruitfully. Would a rabbi send the wrong message by condoning the postponement of starting a family? And what about the possibility of complications?

I'm glad YU is recognizing this need, and making it a public "thing." One concern, though: will these rabbis, with their general understanding of the basics in infertility, be appropriately deferential to the experts when confronted with actual questions? Or will a little knowledge prove to be too much of a good thing, leading these men to fancy themselves sufficiently educated to rule on any question? There's a lot of wiggle room in halacha, but without a thorough understanding of where all of it is, many people (rabbis included) tend to err on the side of being too strict. This can have disasterous effects in the realm of infertility, where a few wasted cycles or an omitted diagnosis can make the difference between getting effective treatment in a timely manner, or missing the boat entirely. Well, maybe it's not that dramatic, but it's not nothing either.

And here's an interesting new factoid (at least, to me) from that article:

Abdulaziz Sachedina, an expert on Islamic bioethics at the University of Virginia, said he often gets requests from imams and from Muslim doctors to parse some of the trickier issues.

Under Islamic law, for example, a couple may use a surrogate mother, but the husband must take the surrogate as a temporary wife. In the United States, Professor Sachedina said, "This is done very quietly."

Many thanks to OrthoMom for the link!

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In other news, that weird cervical mucus has reverted to its usual boring milky-white watery-creamy self. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Robbie Plans, and God Has a Field Day

My body is just not being very cooperative this first cycle. Today is Day 4 of my cycle, medically, but Day 5 halachicly, since I did a bedikah Sunday afternoon when the heavy spotting started. (See here if that made no sense to you...though if that's the case, the rest of this post will probably bore the hell out of you as well.) Given that my menstrual flow didn't really start until late Sunday night, I suppose it's not unreasonable that I can't get a hefsek today. But it's damn maddening.

My real "flow" only lasted through Monday. Well, maybe Tuesday, but that was borderline between menstruation and spotting. Yesterday was definitely spotting, at least as far as I could tell from the outside, and today there's pretty much nothing actualyl coming out...but every bedikah is bright red. Not a spot, or some crumbly residue. Soaked. Not brownish-red, or brick-red, or even background-of-this-blog red, but shockingly red. Murder red.

Now this is not so terrible, I suppose. My medical cycle is lagging a day behind, so I'm not even starting the Clomid until tomorrow night. I probably won't ovulate (Ha! as if) until medical day 13 or 14 or even 15 or 16, so I should still get to the mikvah comfortably within my fertility window. But getting a hefsek tomorrow means going to the mikvah on Shabbat. And...I've never done that before.

So, first of all, there's the crazy differences in preparation. I get home on Fridays very close to Shabbat as it is, and I just finished telling my boss on Tuesday that I no longer needed to leave work early on Fridays, so it'll be fun trying to back out of that one for next week. And I never, ever prepare at home. We have a bathtub, but I just don't use it. I like prepping at the mikvah. So now I'll have to build a whole prepare-at-home routine under nutty time pressure. OK, not terrible, though I have no idea how I'm going to swing the time off and actually getting my prep done and getting all the usual last-minute Shabbat stuff done.

I'm scheduled for a transvaginal ultrasound next Friday. My first ever. I'm pretty sure there are no halachic issues with a dildocam during the seven "clean" days, but it's on day seven, which may be trickier, and I really didn't want to have to worry about this the first time around. I will call Rabbi Spock over the weekend, I guess.

We're having dinner guests next Shabbat. And I usually go to shul Friday nights, so people will wonder where I am. I can say I decided to go to another shul, but that'll be sort of suspect, because why would I do that with guests coming home for dinner? And with Ezra still at our regular shul to bring home said guests? I don't want to just "stay home," because if I'm not there when Ezra arrives with the guests, people will ask questions. I suppose I could say I'm visiting a friend, but that is so incredibly out of character for me, plus I'd have to tell said friend what is going on so she knows to back up my story. And then, no matter what I do, there's the fact that all of the last-minute food-related stuff won't be done.

Did I say dinner guests? I must have forgotten to mention that one of said guests is actually a sleep-over guest for the weekend. He (yes, he) is a rabbi. So, duh, will probably be able to figure stuff out if we let even the tiniest thing slip. But he doesn't know about the infertility issues, and he's not always the most appropriate/discreet person, so I'm sure that as soon as he figures things out, he'll make some unintentionally hurtful remark. Plus, I...just...ugh, do I really need him knowing when I go to the mikvah? I generally would not mind, but he's going to be sleeping across the hall from me and Ezra!

Oh, that bathtub? In the guest bathroom, not the master bathroom. So I guess there's no way for him to not know what's going on, since I'm going to be prepping in his bathroom when he needs to be getting ready for Shabbat.

We can't change the dinner plans, I don't think, because then rabbi-houseguest (who is the guest of honor at that meal) will know, or at least suspect, what's up. We can't have him not-come, because, again, he'll know what's up. And I can't not go to the mikvah on Friday, because, um, baby. Or at least: chance of baby.

Well, I guess I could not go on Friday. Y'know, if I don't get a hefsek tomorrow or something.

It does not help that about seventeen other things in my life all started falling apart today too. I hope God is getting a good laugh out of all of this.

Live Long and Prosper

So, apropos of just about nothing, besides the random firing of synapses in my brain (and an idle review of some earlier posts, including this one), I have decided to dub Rabbi V: Rabbi Spock. I mean, he is fairly logical, his tone is an appropriate combination of deferential and firm, and there are certainly times when I feel like all rabbis are from another planet. So let's see if the name sticks.

You like?

Midnight Masquerade

(What? A masquerade is a kind of a ball!)

Last night, around 11 PM, just as Ezra was finally convincing me that it was time to stop frittering away my precious sleeping hours and get into bed, the phone rang. "Who could be calling us this late?" Ezra wondered as he went to pick up the phone (of course, the portable phone that is supposed to live in our bedroom was nowhere near its cradle). Moments later I heard his returning footsteps, followed by, "Robbie? It's Rabbi V."

Considering my own procrastination in this area, I can't complain that it took him this long to return our call from Saturday night. Since we were both tired, we briefly considered asking him to schedule a group phone call for later in the week. We quickly and wisely concluded that we'd better take the opportunity presented and so within a few moments were we each on an extension and thus began our "theoretical discussion of halachic issues relating to fertility treatments."

The main thing that we took away from this phone call is that Rabbi V is a fairly practical and straightforward person. We told him how long we'd been trying to get me pregnant, and that I'd already had bloodwork indicating PCOS. He asked our ages and about my cycles. (It took a few minutes of back and forth for him to finally get that I don't have cycles.) He referred to sex as "lovemaking," which is more euphemistic than my prefered term of "intercourse" (or, well..."sex") but still far better than the dreaded "relations," which usually makes me wonder why my second cousins once removed need to be involved in our fertility adventures.

On more than one occasion Rabbi V stated that "we follow the doctors" when it comes to questions of which tests to perform before or during treatments. This was a major relief because I am just not comfortable taking anythign stronger than my current metformin without first verifying that Ezra is at least contributing his half to the cause. We discussed semen analysis specifically (though still in theoretical terms), and the rabbi ran down a hierarchical list of methods of procuring a sample. Apparently tops on the list is "collection condom with a hole." Next comes collection condom without a hole, followed by pulling out (yes! the rabbi actually said "pulling out!") and ejaculating into a cup. If the doctor is still not down with that option, then it's permitted to obtain a sample without intercourse but still "with the partner in the style of lovemaking." (I won't promise that this is an exact quote, but it's close.) All the way at the end of the list, apparently to be resorted too only if the wife is niddah, is masturbating alone, but even there should be an attempt to procure the sample without "manual masturbation" and without viewing pornography.

I wonder if a few artfully posed shots of myself would count as "pornography."

We also asked Rabbi V about his general views on donor egg and gestational surrogacy. (Silly idealistic me refuses to even consider that something may be wrong with Ezra's sperm, let alone the idea that something could be so wrong with them that a doctor would suggest donor sperm.) After reminding us that such questions would probably not arise, in the practical sense, for a long time (if ever), Rabbi V stated that there are many opinions permitting both of these options. Good enough for us, for now...all I was looking for was an assurance that he wasn't the "no donors, no surrogates, not ever" type.

General conclusion - we're going to work with Rabbi V. Which means it's time to bring our donations to his communal organization up to date...and to come up with a better alias for him. Any suggestions?

(Oh, and I'm still looking for design help...)

Ball's in His Court

Just so no one thinks I'm shirking my responsibilities, let it be known that we tried to call Rabbi V last night, he didn't answer, we left a detailed message on his machine, and we have yet to hear back from him.

Bouncing the Ball

Fine. You nagged me into submission. After sufficient procrastination, I called Rabbi V...to discover that he is leaving tomorrow on a trip and will return in a week. I arranged for us to call him the following weekend, Saturday or Sunday evening, and Ezra and I will both be on the phone to speak about some general issues (not ask any direct, binding questions). That's still almost two weeks before our first RE appointment.

Do I get a cookie now?

(Answer: no. My pants are too tight.)

Dropping the Ball

Remember this? Where Rabbi V told us to call "early next week?" Where "next week" would be vaguely defined as January 8-15, 2006. Which was, oh, um, actually two weeks ago?

Yeah, guess who hasn't called Rabbi V back?

It doesn't help that I'm generally phone-phobic. But I can't blame that entirely. Somewhere over that weekend, Ezra and I spoke about the idea of my bouncing some names off of Rabbi A, our shul rabbi. We decided that I would do that, and so I dropped Rabbi A an email asking for an appointment. I said it would be brief, but didn't mention a topic. He said he didn't have any free evenings for the week and ask if I could let him know what I wanted to speak about. I wrote back suggesting a date the follow week and stating that it was not something I was comfortable bringing up over email. He asked for a phone call, and so on, until we finally managed to meet about five days ago. I finally managed to communicate to him that the telling him the topic was the part I wanted to do in person, and so I did. The end result of our conversation was the Rabbi V was probably a good choice, and Ezra and I would benefit from meeting with him in person at least once, just to chat and get more comfortable with the whole situation.

Terrific! I thought to myself. We're going to be within an hour's drive of Rabbi V the weekend of January 28-29, maybe we can make an appointment for that Sunday! And then...I didn't call him. I couldn't make the phone call from work, and every evening something else came up that kept me out of the house until (what I thought was) far too late to call. I figured I'd do it Sunday (that is, yesterday). Except then Sunday got filled up with cleaning and cooking and entertaining, and I needed the better part of the evening to just decompress, and before I knew what was happening it was 10 PM and time had passed me by once again. That, and we started talking about not making our planned weekend trip next week, and so there'd be no in-person appointment anyway.

OK, that's not the whole story. The part I'm not telling you (except now I am) is that I'm embarrassed to call. I have a terribly habit of forgetting to call/write people, and then making excuses to myself, and then procrastinating more, and more and more and more until it gets to the point where I can't contact them without making a total ass of myself. The phone-phobia account for a large part of it, but I'm also just a procrastinator by nature, and largely socially inept, and always a touch too proud to ask for help when it's expected that I'll need it, such that I am forced to beg for favors and guidance long after I should have figured out how to do something on my own. (I'm not talking about Rabbi V here, just my personaility in general.)

Anyway, when I call him, what am I going to say? "Hi, we spoke nearly a month ago...I was supposed to call you back but I didn't...we're not even entirely sure we want to work with you...but we need to talk to someone before our appointment...I'm terribly irresponsible and generally feeling rebellious toward this entire system...hey, could you just magically figure out when we need you in the future and then YOU can call US?" I know I need to call him soon, ideally today or tomorrow (or the next day...), but I don't even know where we stand in working with him, and I just wish the whole problem would go away.

"Enjoy It While You Can"

If I hear that from another one of my new-mother friends even one more time, I just may have to commit murder.

I know, I know. Grass. Other side. Greener. Fine. I'm sure babies are a pain and a half, and I still reserve the right to complain about swollen pregnancy ankles and 2 A.M. feedings and cranky babies with the sniffles who just don't want to be put down...but for now all I can think about is how I don't have any of those things. Yeah, I do appreciate that (for now) we can pretty much do what we want, be it going out on the spur of th emoment or enjoying a quiet dinner at home. But it's not like we're enjoying it now, with the assurance that in so many months or years, we will try to get pregnant and *boom* nine months later our lives will change. No, there's just this big cloud of uncertainty, and we can't even plan for when our lives are going to change, because they may never change, but they will also neve be the same - never the carefree, fun-loving, easygoing existence of the deliberately childfree.

It's a funny situation we're in. I feel like if we lived in a yeshivish/black-hat/super-frum/charedi/whatever-you-want-to-call-it type of community, and after x number of years of marriage we didn't have kids, there would be some kind of understanding that it wasn't on purpose. People would know we were having problems (even if they didn't officially "know") and would be appropriately deferential. Or, at least, they would understand that we wanted children and our non-parental status was not by choice.

Our religious community is different, though. It's "modern" (if you want to use that term). Almost everyone in our synagogue is college educated; many have or are working toward advanced degrees. Many, if not most, of the women my age work outside the home, and in fields where it would be likely for them to remain employed once children arrive. I'm pretty sure most newly-married couples use birth control for six months or a year, and a good number probably longer than that - hey, we did - even without the requisite heter (dispensation from a rabbi). Overall, the concept of a couple in the 25-35 age range, married a few years, both parties working, no kids...it's not so unusual here, and it's not clear that we're not childfree by choice. But I feel like the presumption that we choose to be childfree - the thought that we've been using birth control for more several years, that we're evading our obligation to build a family - goes along with a negative judgment on our suitability as members of the community. Every time I go to shul on a Shabbat morning, I want to hang a sign around my neck that reads: "Trying to get pregnant, twelve months and counting." I'm no one of "them" (as much as I don't think there's anything wrong with "them") and I want everyone to know it.

The worst part is that I can't wear a sign like that, and I can't go around telling everyone that we're infertile, because who wants to hear something like that? So I laugh off the comments about enjoying our childfree days. I talk about my work and how excited I am to be looking for a new job (more on that another day, I think). I toss back a couple glasses of wine during a dinner and then pour myself a generous Scotch and joke that I'm "drinking for two." I tell people that Ezra's sister is expecting baby in the spring, and go on and on about how lucky I am that she gets to be the "guinea pig" because she's having the first grandchild. We put our breakables on low shelves and store cleaning agents under the sink. In all ways, I try to make it seem as if I love my life.

And all the while, my heart is breaking. I can't enjoy even one moment of it, and all I see lying ahead is day after day and year after year of spare bedrooms and three-drink dinners.

The Search Continues

I almost titled this post "The Search For Spock," but then I realized that the rabbi we are looking for: (1) need not be a kohen, and (2) also need not be dead and then brought back to life - in fact, probably should not be. Logic would be good, though.

Aaaaaaaaanyway. I finally spoke with Rabbi V on Monday evening. Ezra spoke to him first actually, but for just a moment when he (Ezra) picked up the phone, and not about the topic at hand. I then spoke with Rabbi V for about five minutes, first re-introducing myself (I had had a few interactions with him a few years ago and thought he might remember me) and then telling him, briefly, our problem. He sounded receptive to helping us out, and I started to bring up specific concerns. He heard that our RE appointment is over a month away and suggested a contact to help us "jump the list"; I refused and instead started to bring up specific testing concerns.

Rabbi V didn't have much time to talk and told me to call again early next week, but in the few responses he did have (regarding my preliminary PCOS diagnosis and my concern about the permissibility of a semen analysis for Ezra)...well, they worried me a bit. I can't really put my finger on why, and it could have been only that the conversation was rushed (to be fair, he didn't know why he was calling me when he did, and so couldn't plan for a certain amount of time set aside for us). Still, I'm concerned. I have since heard from someone on the A TIME boards that, as of several years ago, Rabbi V had refused to work with at least one couple on IF issues, but it was unclear whether it was because of Rabbi V's possible inexperience in the area, or some personal issue with the couple, or something else entirely. Whatever the case, it's starting to worry me, almost enough to outweigh the benefit of having had prior positive interactions with Rabbi V.

Several people from the A TIME boards have recommended another rabbi, who I shall temporarily refer to as Rabbi W (I'd better not add more than three rabbinic candidates to this list, eh?). Rabbi W lives in a somewhat distant city - not too much farther than Rabbi V, but not somewhere I'm likely to ever meet him in person, either. Beyond the recommendations from people I don't know, and the fact that he is listed on A TIME's rabbi page (whereas Rabbi V is not), I know nothing else about Rabbi W. I can't decide whether to try to contact him or, to be honest, what I would say.

I am also considering contacting our synagogue's rabbi (hereinafter Rabbi A) for his opinions of Rabbis V and W and/or his recommendations of other rabbis. One big advantage is that, unlike the A TIME people and others who have made suggestions, he knows us (or at least the relevant aspects of us) fairly well.

But there are a few concerns here. We have never made it clear to Rabbi A that we are dealing with infertility, or even that we are actively trying to have a baby. Our community has a considerable number of childless coupels our age, and it is possible (if not likely) that many of them are (temporarily) childless by choice. While I have a decent relationship with Rabbbi A, Ezra does not interact with him one-on-one very often. With Rabbis V and W (or just about anyone else), I can explain the situation without fear of making Ezra uncomfortable, because it is unlikely that the other party will ever encounter my husband, or draw the connection, unless we want him to. But with Rabbi A, the connection will be obvious, and Ezra will see him on a regular basis for years to come. While such a thing, to be honest, would not bother me all too much, Ezra is a fairly private person and I am pretty sure this would make him uncomfortable. Finally, I am worried about offending Rabbi A, either if he suggests a certain rabbi (dare I say "Rabbi X"? - nah) and we make a different choice, or if he suggests himself (something we know we are not comfortable with for a variety of reasons, thoguh on the other hand this is a very remote possibility).

At what point do we become committed to one rabbi over another? At what point do their responses become practical and binding rather than theoretical? And at what point did I sign up for all of this headache and heartache?

The Third Wheel

It's bad enough for most infertile couples, this loss of privacy in what is, for many people, the most private activity they will ever engage in: conceiving a child. Tests, drugs, monitoring, procedures...someone else telling you that you're pregnant (or not), insurance companies deciding whether they'll help you pay for what most people get for free.

Infertily and Orthodox Judaism? Now you're really having fun.

By request of Lut C., here is a pretty good starter explanation for my readers who are unfamiliar with the issues. The short story: as with just about everything in life, Orthodox Judaism has rules about infertility tests and treatments, and corresponding loopholes and leniencies to help people navigate the rules as needed. In order to navigate, though, you need yet another fertility expert: a rabbi. Not just any rabbi, but one who is very familiar with fertility issues. And not just any rabbi familiar with fertility issues, but one that you and your spouse can actually communicate with.

Because it's not like there's some blanket rule for every situation - just about everything is open to interpretation, and where Rabbi X will permit a semen analysis by standard sample collection, Rabbi Y will require a collection condom and Rabbi Z will say no to any semen analysis whatsoever. This rabbi allows donor egg; that one does not. The trick is finding the rabbi whose rulings will be more or less in line with your own views, and whose methodologies and phiosophies make you most comfortable - but doing so before you actually know what decisions he will make.

Granted, in the end the decisions are your own. But we, like many other Orthodox couples, choose to make the religion, its rules, and the guidance of its clergy, a major part of our lives. A governing part of our lives, in fact. And if that means adding another person to the gaggle of experts, advisors, overseers, and hangers-on who will be involved in ou reproductive endeavors, then so be it.

don't wait by the phone

So, by mid-afternoon I finally worked up the guts to call Rabbi V. So I snuggled into Ezra's arms (the better to get some moral support) and dialed - and the line was busy. Try again five minutes later - the line is still busy. Pull out the clinic intake forms, figure out what additional family medical history information we need, try calling again - still busy. Guilt myself into davening mincha. Try again - hey, at least it rings this time. But we got the answering machine. I left a message with precisely the wrong amount of detail (though at least I remembered to speak our phone number slowly). Now, after about two and a half hours that feel like an eternity, he still hasn't called back.

Really, it's no big deal. It's not like the guy has a baby hidden away in his bookcase for us. For all I know, the extent of his involvement will be telling us to call another rabbi. But I just want another phase, no matter how small, to be over with.

Hello...? Can you help me?

So, tomorrow I think Ezra and I (or maybe just...I) will be calling a rabbi. We're going to need a rabbi to help us along this infertility journey, and though I have no way of knowing who the perfect co-traveler would be, I've had a few people recommend Rabbi V.* Rabbi V is not local, but I have asked him niddah questions in the past, and I know that, generally speaking, we can communicate. Everyone I know who has interacted with him has only glowing recommendations, so that's definitely a plus. But here's the thing...none of these recommnders have been dealing with him on infertility specifically. Granted, one of the people who recommended him was a rebbetzin, a very close friend of mine, married to a rabbi who really should know who's who, so that's a good sign.

I have asked around the Jewish IF world, just a little bit, for other rav recommendations. I've gotten other names - actually, no one mentoned Rabbi V. It's a little worrisome, but a littel voice deep inside of me says to trust my rebbetzin friend and to trust my prior experience with Rabbi V. I figure that Rabbi V is at least learned enough and modest enough and practical enough that if he knows this isn't his bag, he's steer me in the right direction.

And, hey, we have a month and a half to go until our first appointment. That's plenty of time...right? RIGHT?

* Nope, not even close to his real name. maybe I'll come up with a catchy nickname for him.

Publicity! *squeal*

After a spectacular introduction by persephone, it appears that I really do have readers! My stats have skyrocketed (not hard, considering that last week my readership numbered in the single digits) and I'm actually getting comments! And I'm on other people's blogrolls! Wheeeeeeeee!

And then...and THEN...I got a link from Mayim Rabim! ProjGen is there too...go us! Double wheeeeeeeeeeeee!

Treasures

This past Shabbat, at the kiddush after moning services, I held a friend's baby. Not for a minute or two or five, but for a good half-hour, walking around the room, giving the mom a chance to eat with her hands free and happily shmoozing with a bunch of people. I laughed off a good number of comments: "Hey, he looks good on you!" "You hold that baby so naturally!" "I'm gone for three weeks and come back to THIS?" The kid cooed and giggled and pulled at my necklace and generally did all those cue things babies do. I joked that I was going to bundle him under my coat and take him home (but return him to his parents in time for his bar mitzvah of course - that's one party I'm not paying for if I don't have to).

It all would have been a very pleasant experience, but for one thing. As she handed the baby over to me, the mother, who knows that we are just starting to deal with our IF problems and was infertile herself for some time, whispered, "It's a segula,* you know. For having a baby."

Yes, I know. I was tempted to respond, "I hear sex is a segula for getting pregnant, too, but so far it hasn't worked for me." I bit my tongue, though, and smiled and took the baby from her arms, because, dammit, I wanted to hold him anyway, because he's CUTE. As for the segula - as far as I'm concerned, it's superstition, plain and simple, and rarely if ever has any place in Judaism. I know segulas make other people happy, and it's not my place to tell them it's "wrong" to think that way, but I must say I wish they'd stop trying to impose all this segula-ness on me. Particularly when "they" is someone who has been in my shoes, who must know that even the most well-intentioned comments can be surprisingly wounding, and that you never can tell how something will sound in someone else's mind. Or maybe I just give other people too much credit. Maybe she just assumes that whatever comforted her soul will comfort mine as well.

* segula - lit., "treasure" - an action or behavior, like wearing the now-trendy red string kabbalah bracelet, that is supposed to have the power to bring about a certain effect