Layla's Dark and Foreboding Weblog

Most people I know have graduated college or have gone through a decent amount of schooling or professional training to lead them to where they are today. Whether they are lawyers, scientists, admins, or accountants, I would consider people in these positions to be rather smart. Why, then can no one understand the basics behind the English language?

Let us start with a basic peeve: "I made a 360 degree change." Really, now? Are you proud of the fact you're right where you started?

My biggest issue with grammar is affect and effect. It took me years to get it right. Affect = verb. Effect = noun. I learned it, now it is there. There are some things I simply cannot spell correctly, and I am unrepentant. However, if there is a word that you use *all the time*, please try to understand the basic meaning.

Ladies and gents, I give you....irony. If you feel that you have a strong sense of irony, such as, I don't know, a traffic jam when you're already late, or maybe a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break, or 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife you are like most Americans (and Canadians, it seems) and have no fucking clue what irony is. That is ok. I'm ok with that. But when you tell me that it's ironic that I wore jeans today that are the same color as yours, or that the height of irony is that you lost your keys the day after you had a duplicate made, it makes you look like an idiot.

The definition of irony is rather straightforward: n. 1. A figure of speech in which the intended meaning is the opposite of that expressed by the words used; usually taking the form of sarcasm or ridicule in which laudatory expressions are used to imply condemnation or contempt.

Of course there are different styles of irony, many are also sarcastic, but sarcasm and irony are not the same. Though they tend to compliament each other quite well. The BBC points out the un-irony of Alanis: "It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife - Not unless you are in the Acme Knife Factory being approached by a mad axeman and reach behind you for a weapon, only to find that you're in the newly-opened spoon department." That, my friends, is irony.

I love verbal irony, but I am more a fan of situational irony:

Suggested reading: The final irony at the Guardian

Posted by layla at 05:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Lowes? That's where I was.

I don't have cancer. I have pre-cancerous cells on my cervix. They shall be lopped off. Hopefully. But let's back up a bit...

Failed IVF, right? That's where we left off? Yes, IVF failed. After a few months, we made the decision to try again. It was made mostly (for me, anyway) from a fear of the future and a life of "What if we tried ONE MORE TIME?!?!" So after a few sputters, we decided to start again with a few tweeks to our protocol on July 16th. We also decided to keep it to ourselves this time around. I mean, I have no problem with you all or anyone, really, knowing everything about me, but you don't have my mom. My mom isn't good at keeping things to herself and she's sort of really great at making well-intentioned, extremely inappropriate comments during bad times. So mum was the word this round. I figured at the least we could say "Yeah, it just didn't work for us...thanks for asking" or at best "Surprise! We're pregnant!"

A week before shots were starting, I went for my girlie tests at the OB/GYN, separately from my IVF treatment. It just so happened I was due for one. And on Monday I got a call to say that my results came back and they can't rule out high grade pre-cancerous dysplasia. What? Pardon? Yes. Normally the results say "Mild...check up again in 3 months" or "Moderate...removal recommended" or "Severe...removal necessary". Moderate and severe is "High Grade" or "1 small step from cervical cancer" and my results said "Cannot rule out high grade". So in I went the next morning for a biopsy on my cervix. And now I'm waiting.

Either way, IVF is put off for minimum of 3 months if it comes back "mild" or 4-6 months for anything else. Or forever if I take these hints to heart. No ovulation, no progesterone, low sperm count, low morphology, failed ivf cycle, dysplasia...we're bad at taking hints, huh?

So where are we now? Angry. Scared. Sad. Confused. All of it. I'm mad at my body. I'm mad at M's body. I'm mad that I can't make a fucking decision. I'm so pissed that after all of this, ALL of this that I've gone through throughout my life THIS is what I get. I am pissed that I feel so sorry for myself. That no one told us that infertility would suck so fucking bad. And then I think I want to stop. I don't want to risk a pregnancy. I don't care that much about being pregnant. I'm pissed off at people in my life that meant so much that fucking dropped off the face of the earth when I needed them most (shout out to you, Z. good one.)

I haven't been blogging here because I don't have all that much to say. Most people simply can't understand this. Many of my child-free-by-choice friends are sympathetic, but incapable of knowing this hurt. And my parents can't understand for the very reason of who they are...parents. My brothers can't, and my sisters-in-law can't. And all the advice that people give is a big fat pile of horse shit. Well intentioned, maybe, but completely and totally worthless. Because you just don't understand. Where were you when you were told that your dream of parenthood was dead? Where were you when you had to bury your hopes? And grieve for the children you would never carry?

It's just never not hard.

Posted by layla at 06:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)