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Posts Tagged ‘doggerel’

Ah, the delightful innocence of childhood!  The glorious days gone by of nursery rhymes and sailing ships, of cabbages and kings!  Unfortunately, most nursery rhymes are best appreciated by children, and children, unfortunately, are something that I seem to be lacking.  

Ahem.  

So I altered some of my favorites.  It was a doggerel sort of day at work, yesterday, producing doggerel sorts of verses.  

 

JACK AND JILL

Jack and Jill 
Did shots and pills
To try to make a baby.

Jack did wank
They broke the bank
And Jill went slightly crazy.

More than slightly, I’m thinking…

***

AS I WAS GOING TO SAINT IVES

As I was going to Saint Ives
I met a man with seven wives.
Each wife had seven follicles,
Each follicle had seven eggs
Each egg had one half of seven eventual chromosomal pairings, (thereby giving it the genetic makeup of a pea, and there’s absolutely no way to rhyme ‘chromosomal pairings’, so don’t even try.) 

Peas, eggs, follicles, wives – how many were going to Saint Ives?

Yeah, I lost the rhyme.  So shoot me.  And of course, the answer is “one”.

***

THE GRAND OLD DOC OF (NEW) YORK

The Grand old Doc of (New) York,
he had ten thousand patients.
He marched them up to the ultrasound room
And he marched them down again .

When their E2s were up they were up.
When their betas went down they were down.
When their stims were only half way done
They were neither up nor down. 

A comment on the universally horrible feeling of being sent into battle with the forces of evil (ie: infertility) completely unprepared and feeling anonymous.

***

JACK SPRAT

Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
And so betwixt the both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.

Damn.  I didn’t even have to alter this one.  It works as read, as a comment on the overeating so common to hormonally manipulated women.  How depressing is that? 

That’s all I got for you today.  Might break out the lullabies later on in the week if I’m really feeling depressed.  10 days left of this round of limbo…

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MERRY HOLIDAY GREETINGS TO ALL!

2008 has been a banner year at the Sprogblogger household, and we felt the need to brag a little bit!  I hope you’ll indulge us!  

January: The first month of the year was fairly uneventful other than the astonishing amount of sex both adult members of the household engaged in!  But, before you start thinking nasty thoughts, let me assure you that all sex was intended for reproductive – not recreational – purposes!  Not that our intentions mattered at all…

February: “Hmmm, something might be wrong,” was our first thought when Auntie Flo showed up yet again.  We began looking into all the possibilities, and scared ourselves silly with an over-the-counter, wicked-expensive “fertility kit”. Apparently, we had a problem, Houston!

March:  Thank heaven for other people’s holidays!  After being told it would be JUNE before being able to consult with a doctor at a smaller clinic that practices non-medicated IVFs (ah, we were so innocent back then!) We got impatient, and due to a Good Friday cancellation, were able to meet the man who would become more familiar with Sprogblogger’s insides than anyone else in the whole world.  He suggested we get cracking since we were both teetering on the edge of elder-status in the world of reproduction.  A plan!  We just knew we’d be parents by year’s end!

April: But of course, first we needed tests.  Oi vey, did we need tests.  Tests to rule out, well, pretty much everything as the cause of our, er, difficulties.  We are happy to report that Sprogblogger does not have Lupus.  Nor is she a carrier for Fragile X syndrome.  Nor for Cystic Fibrosis.   Nor are her tubes blocked.  Nor is Sprogblogger’s partner syphilitic or azoospermatic.  Whew!  That’s a relief!  We are officially diagnosed with “Unexplained Infertility”

May: Oh what an exciting month May was!  Estrogen patches; many, many injections; hot flashes; cramps; embryo retrieval; embryo transfer; positive pregnancy test!  Yahoo!  Our long, painful ordeal is over!

June:  A glorious month, filled with sun-filled vacations in the Galapagos, surrounded by family and friends, all basking in our good fortune with us!  Truly, we are blessed!

July:  Um, yeah.  Well, not so many blessings in July.  First week of July brought the news that proto-sprog had died in utero, but due to its fabulous accommodations, had no intention of leaving the building!  A full four weeks after the diagnoses, Sprogblogger finally miscarried her first child in a rush of pain, blood, and terror!  Not such a great month in Brooklyn, let me tell you!

August:  This month, Sprogblogger got to deal with the first really crippling depression in her life!  The physical effects of the miscarriage, coupled with the emotional aspects really threw her for a loop!  And on top of that, she wouldn’t stop bleeding!  Fortunately, Dr. Bigshot stepped in to offer her a completely fucked up mis-diagnosis and to miss the embryo that was still lurking in her womb!  Oh, how everyone laughed at that little mistake!  Well, at least we laughed after a tearful consultation with our real doctor, and an MRI to determine whether or not we would ever be able to try to conceive again!  

September:  September was the month the household welcomed Nellie the Wonder Whippet into their hearts and home.  Actually, Sprogblogger’s partner agreed to get a dog out of desperation that the woman he fell in love with was gone forever, buried deep in the pit of unrelieved depression she managed to dig herself into over the summer.  Sprogblogger’s partner officially became Mr. Sprogblogger because they love each other – of course – but also because we realized it was going to be really difficult to adopt a child without being married, and at this point, we need all the not-difficult we can find!  Congratulations and Best Wishes abounded!  Too bad even this happy occasion was tinged with the agony of our failure to have a child together!

October:  Still bleeding, Sprogblogger finally agrees to undergo a D&C – something she should have done in the first damned place.  The irony of having an abortion at this point was nearly unbearable, but the drugs were good!  Eager to begin again, she began a new IVF cycle again on Halloween, having missed an important conference in Calgary to do so!

November: An unremarkable cycle, save for the fact that Sprogblogger didn’t respond as well as anyone would like to the hepped-up drugs!  😦  Guess she really is teetering on the last days of her so-called fertility after all!  Despite her poor showing, Sprogblogger & Mr. Sprogblogger produces some perfect embryos and everyone isquite excited to see when they’ll get their first positive HPT!

December:  Unfortunately, the HPTs are all negative.  Even more unfortunately, the beta-titers at the clinic are all faintly positive.  After a roller-coaster of prognoses and diagnoses, Sprogblogger is finally deemed to have produced a directionally challenged embryo that is firmly lodged in one tube.  Hurrah!  Oh, well, not so much.  Currently undergoing her second miscarriage of the year, Sprogblogger thinks that 2008 sucked shit and she would gladly take a few volts of electricity to her frontal lobe in order to erase all memories of pretty much everything from July onward!

Hope your holidays were joyous and wonderful, and that Santa brings you everything you want in your stockings!  No holiday pictures because, well, the photographer’s place was filled to the brim with cute, smug little families and Sprogblogger simply couldn’t cope with it.  Oh yeah, and if she has to hear anyone else sigh and say, “Christmas – it’s all about the baby” one more time, she’s going to stab the speaker with a fork.  Just so you’re warned!

Merry Christmas!

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Oh, Bravelle! How long it’s been,
Since thou didst sting and burn my skin!
I missed thee, like I miss the bee
That tries to take a stab at me.

Oh Bravelle made of purest piss
From nuns most agèd, wise, unkissed.
Who lost their chance to bear a child
When they became the Christos’ bride.

Oh Bravelle how I wish I could
Achieve – without thee – motherhood.
But someday when my sprog doth ask,
from whence she came, and how the task,

Was done, I’ll show an empty vial, 
and then, I’ll say with brilliant smile:
“‘Twas Bravelle gave you, dear, to me.”
Remember that, when next you pee.

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