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Romancing the Stone 
http://www.romancingthestone.wordpress.com

Wishing you the very very best!

Make it a Dozen!

I have 10 egglets so far! Just little seedlings of things to come but the RE said it’s very promising. They lowered my stim meds because my estrodial level was soaring too quickly. They called me a high responder? Sounds like the nerdy kid at the front of the classroom with her eager  hand up in the air  (yes that WAS me! Nerdy girl).

I just wish that the quality of my old eggs matches my body’s enthusiasm.

41.

To have found love at 40 and be trying to conceive at 41. It’s kinda crazy. I have colleagues at work with pre-teens with body hair. But hey, I always imagined I’d be successful and unattached, travel the world and have many lovers. I was lucky in the regard that I DID get to live the life I longed for. I checked off many of the boxes on my life-list and eventually I decided to rewrite my list. I remember telling a friend, who was struggling in an unhealthy relationship, to figure out where he wanted to be on the day he died, and work backwards. I realized I needed to heed my own advice and decide what stories I wanted to have at the end of my life. 

That story led me to where I am today. 

If I am indeed “working backwards” than I know intuitively what I hope lies ahead. I don’t know how I will get there yet, but I am happy to be on this journey toward a deeper truth.

So my 10 little egglets are making their way in the world. The Bear came with me to the ultrasound today but I couldn’t stop laughing when it was time for the dildocam. There’s something about your lover seeing you with your legs in the air and a plastic probe under your gown that really makes you self-conscious (you THINK!!!!). And the gown- Jeezus- that’s the first thing I’d like to redesign! How bout something RED and fabulous for all of us strong, mighty bitches out there!

(I mean bitches in the nicest way- if you are on meds I am sure you know that!)

The Golden Goose

On the way to the Hospital to get a bloodtest, I watched a flock of geese navigate the busy highway. One would expect them to fly across, ascending the swiftly moving cars that were in their way. Maybe they were lazy, but they chose to walk across. All twenty of them! Chests out, beaks pointing upward.
Obviously if you had to pit a goose -even twenty geese- up against a swerving, angry car, the geese would, in all probability, get creamed. What goose in their right mind would CHOOSE to waddle across a Boston thoroughfare at rush hour! But here they were, sachaying proudly toward their destination, the last patch of green grass in the city square.

I feel like one of those geese today. Chest out, walking briskly towards the hospital. Sachaying towards ....what? Perhaps the odds are not in my favor. Maybe the machine of fate and infertility is bigger than me. But still I'm walking!!! Confronting it head on.  And now I have sisters.I have lifelong girlfriends and my own sister as well as new partners I've made on this journey. We're all golden geese crossing the highway together. Prancing around with our RubyFeathered tails.
There is strength in numbers.
Faith trumps Fear.

Love,
Shell

Child's Play!

Good news!

We had our first girl-power mixer for the RubyFeather Social Club last night and it was AWESOME. I never met so many  women who I would totally love to be friends with. It was wonderful to hear the stories of others and share strengths and support. I believe that everyone left energized and hopeful, really feeling this if they had sisters on the journey toward motherhood.


In addition to that I can proudly say I DID IT!  I gave myself the menopur shot this morning. Yes, I was still sweating and a little nervous, but I played some Joss Stone tunes and did a little power dance before I plunged the needle in my belly. Hooyah! I can't believe it, but I felt EMPOWERED! I had control over something for once. I think I am going to take the syringe away from my husband, and do it myself more often.


On a funny note, the Bear left me the HCG needle instead of my teenie 30 gauge one. I was mixing the solution and getting ready to add the needle when I thought- Cruel joke! What was he trying to do? Kill me???? Once I found an appropriate sharp (a wee dwarf of the HCG needle,) it seemed like child's play.


A big thank you and cyber hug to everyone who has left me a comment. IT'S HELPING!!!!!
Go ladies go! Let's make some cute babies around here!

Sleepy Hollow

I have so much to do today, but I need to “get this out”. I am not sure what words or patterns will form here, but I need to open the padlock to my hope chest and set a few butterflies free.

I tried to call my RE to postpone this IVF cycle. With the passing of my Uncle and the stresses at home and work, I just felt like it was all too much right now. I went over timing with the nurse and it’s pretty impossible to just push it out a month because their lab closes for the holidays and they have cutoff dates in November. If we wait until January we have to get approved again from our insurance, and our deductible will be HUGE.

My body and mind need TIME, but there is now way to barter for time right now.

So we began the basline tests yesterday. I went to the Ultrasound lab at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston and tried to send a little good energy to the ladies who sat near me in the waiting room. I need to reach out with a smile and a whisper of “good luck” to my sisters on this journey, because I know how desperately I flourish under the support and kindness of others.

We started the Gonal F last night and now do menopur in the am. That sh!# burns! Tomorrow I may have to give myself the injection (and it scares me). Me, in my seemingly professional power-suit, sweating and shaking over the kitchen sink with a needle in my belly. The image makes me want to cry…

Breathe, kiddo. That’s about all you can do right now.

Gosh, I could use a hug (or a valium : ) )!

RubyFeather is now on Facebook

So many ladies have written to say that they love the idea of our new girl-power group for those of us navigating the big IF. I have to say that it is so wonderful to get such an outpouring of support.

We have set up a facebook page so folks interested in Rubyfeather and what it represents can connect and support one another. This page is global, so you don’t have to live in Boston to become a member.

Also, by joining this page or becoming a “fan” you can help us spread the word about RubyFeather. I tried to keep the main premise of the group somewhat discreet in description.

Here’s the link….http://www.facebook.com/pages/Boston-MA/RubyFeather-Social-Club-New-England/160954877470?ref=share

Won’t you be my facebook friend?

A Snowball's Chance

My obsession with Angelina Jolie’s eggs kept me up last night. OK, I admit, it could appear somewhat homo-erotic, but that’s not what I’m getting at. If we are not preggers the “old fashioned way” : ) this month, we will resume our IVF journey in the next few weeks. After several lost pregnancies through IVF and IUI, I am pretty anxious about this round. Our Doctor (who I LOVE) recommends we continue with ICSI and IVF and hold off on pursuing a donor egg. She gave the Bear and I a slew of genetic tests (12 blood tests for me!) and did an endometrial biopsy to rule out endometritis as the cause of our frequent losses. Everything came back A-OK and we exhumed a big sigh of relief after the many weeks of waiting.

Still, I feel a little like a deer in the headlights on this round. I’m standing in the middle of the road, hoping I’m not hit again…

I love my Dr. because she is one of the best in her industry. She directs the Center for Infertility at a prominent hospital in Boston, and she teaches at Harvard Medical School. She takes the time to talk to us, and actually asks us how we are doing. I’ve dealt with some of her colleagues at the center, and it’s rare to get more than a grunt from some of them. Nevertheless, I believe that she cares deeply for her patients and she’ll give you straight up advice. She’s the kind of woman I would have liked to be friends with, in another time and place.

My obsession with Angelina and the eggs she bares has very little to do with Angelina Jolie herself. It’s what she personifies to me. She’s a sexual goddess yet she’s a seemingly devoted (and quite fertile) mother figure. Being married to an Italian, who’s also a Catholic, I recognize that women are often archetypally personified as the vixen (sexual and available), or the virgin (mother figure). But Angelina is both, it seems (at least to the camera). Her eggs seem like Faberge’.

Where is this going?

I guess I’m scared. I get overly “heady” when I’m scared. I’m scared of losing another one or having a baby with birth defects because of the age of my old eggs. I’m pretty messed up in the head right now.

My probability rate of getting pregnant with my eggs and having a live birth is about 23%-26% as per my Doctor. I compared the figure to other events with a similar probability, just to see how I felt about it:

• In 2005, analysts predicted there would be a 1 in 4 chance of a recession in the next 12 months. (And look what happened!)
• There is a 45.12% probability that a building will blow down in its lifetime!
• There is a 23% probability that a “Great Flood” will occur every 25 years.
• There is a 23% chance of snow in Columbus, Ohio on any given Christmas.
• If you are a trucker, and are text messaging (or reading this!) you have a 22% greater chance of being involved in an accident in Portland, Oregon.

Wow. This stuff is pretty depressing, but I do know something without repute:

• I am 500% loved by a man I adore, and I couldn’t ask for a better partner on this journey. (The Bear confirms this!)
• I am happy for all I do have. All the people I have touched, who have touched me in return.
• I have so very much to be thankful for. I need to sit in my power.
• Even if my eggs are few, and not as fresh as they once were, they are beautiful, and treasured. And they are mine! : )

On the Inside- and it Stings!

This following is a response I posted to Melissa Ford (aka Stirrup queen) on BlogHer column refuting a recent article about twins and IVF. It is in relation to a recent New York Times article that many of us found deeply disheartening. Again, it makes me feel like those of us on this journey are in a bubble of isolation, while those on the outside of the experience proselyytize and minimize the motivations of Doctors and patients alike. I welcome you to read this article, and offer your own comments on the subject. My thoughts on “The Gift of Life, and its Price” by Stephanie Saul in the New York Times:  

Dear Melissa,

Thank you for this beautiful review of a very disturbing article. I can’t begin to tell you how I feel when I picked up my Sunday NYT to see the photo of two sanguine babies so small, they fit in sand buckets (They were actually placed in these buckets for their photo!). The paper lay on my kitchen table for 3 days before I willed myself to read it. My husband and I are taking a month break from IVF after two consecutive miscarriages. What bothered me about the article was that it truly felt as if it was scribed by someone on the “outside” of this experience. For those of us on this journey, it pains me to see such indifference and lack of opposing viewpoints in such a front page article. Saul makes it appear as if every Doctor and clinic’s focus lies solely on churning out babies and ensuring the fiscal success of their practice. She insinuates that reputable clinics avoid proper protocall and compromise the safety of their patients in order to “meet numbers” and draw new clients to their practice. While this may be the case in some clinics, I think it is a broad, sweeping exaggeration to say that is the motivating factor of every RE.

In my experiences with IUI and IVF, I have never encountered such pressure, or lack of regard for my overall well being. 

I wish the article would have offered a more balanced perspective and Saul would have interviewed others in the Medical profession who’s purpose and attitude differed from her own.

Thank you so much for your perspective, and for letting me share mine.

Michele

What is RubyFeather?

We sit across from each other in the waiting room of the Infertility Clinic. Sometimes we are with a partner or a friend. Sometimes we come alone. We see each other at our IVF and IUI orientations – 5 hours of medial info and tears. Small talk at break over coffee. Downcast eyes. Beyond that, we don’t speak.

Now we are embroiled in the process. We talk to friends about it, but they don’t understand. How can they truly? Our partner is in the thick of it with us. Sometimes people ask us too many questions, or just tell us to “relax and it’ll happen!!”

We see each other again at the ultrasound clinic. First it’s the “high achievers” in suits, in line before 6am, then, the rest of us, somewhat discheveled. We each carry a folder full of numbers and stats, a map of the maze-like hospital, and our medical protocall. Red folders for IVF. Green for egg donation. Still, we don’t speak.

Eventually, we get so overcome by the process that we crave the comraderie of other women going through the experience. We join online chats and groups, and read countless blogs. We speak through the computer. A little echo in a long tunnel of silence. 

So many times, I’ve wanted to talk to you. I wanted to say “I UNDERSTAND.” I’ve wanted to give you a hug if you needed it, or a smile just to commiserate. It sucks. It really does! And noone knows it better than someone experiencing it as you are.

I’m the woman that sits across from you getting her blood drawn for the millionth time. You can also find me down in the ultrasound room. I’m the lady on line in the grocery store, buying pineapple and avoiding dairy. I’m your online BFF.

Let’s smile at one another next time. A big cheshire cat smile. Emanating like light from a once dark space.

Vaginasaurus

I’ve gotten about 50 hits on the blog this month by people searching the keyword “pterodactyl”. (See the posting: Fill Your Cup). Innocently, I recommended that anyone going through the baby-making process develop an “alter ego” to give voice to the new hyper-you that seems to come out during the meds and the stressful trials of trying to conceive. I refer to MY alter ego as Tarra, she’s a graceful pterodactyl. I could not go through this without Tarra. I can attribute (or blame her) for any mood swings or questionable tears that surface during the process. She’s also a great source of humor for both me and my husband, as we can just say “Tarra did it!” when anything particularly nasty comes out of my mouth.

Tarra sits on my right shoulder. She’s strong and powerful, but angers easily. Like me, she knows that even when it’s bad, it’s worth it. She’s not sure if this journey will bring us a baby through IVF, egg donation or adoption, but she assures me that there’s more than one way to make a family.

Tarra loves all women going on this journey, because no matter how beautiful, how successful, or how self-actualized we are, we are still humbled by the process. Her little reptile heart beats for each of us.

I bring this up for two reasons:

1. I think everyone should have an alter ego.

2. There are a handful of schoolchildren out there, looking for information on Dinosaurs, and finding a Vaginasaurus instead….

…..oops.

The Prize

I went to buy yet another ovulation predictor kit at CVS yesterday. I think those of us trying for a while should get a punch card ( like the ones they give at coffee shops) and once you hit a dozen (or two) you get a prize. I know what I’d like as a prize…7lbs, 3oz. Green eyes like my husband’s….

The boy behind the counter gave me my shopping bag and whispered “Good luck!”

I felt like crying.

Ben-Hur and the Unmade Bed

Posted by romancingthestone in Deep Thoughts, IVF and the Newlywed, Newlywed Diary...Year 2!. Tagged: baby,boston, family, iui, ivf, love, newlywed, ttc. Leave a Comment | Edit

I have nothing to say today.

The air is crisp and it’s the first real day of “sweater season”. The Bear is watching “Ben-Hur” on his new TV. The music on the tube sounds like something you’d hear in a temple, or on the muddy riverbank of the Nile. I have been to the Nile, and the only sounds I remember were car horns and children. But, if the Nile were set to music, it would sound salty and rhythmic and opalescent. Like Ben-Hur ,I suppose….

I have nothing else to say today.

Sometimes I wonder if I am truly living fully in each moment, or I am spending all of my energies looking forward (or back!). Can I eat a meal and savor its taste on my tongue, or is my mind already on dessert and the chilly walk home? Same with family; I long to cherish these first few years of marriage. This time of learning and growing together with exclusive rights to each other’s hearts- prebaby. How can I remain in this moment, without my heart longing for ( ______ )!

I tried, this morning, to STAY in the moment. The sun was casting a warm glow into our bedroom window, throwing long shadows across the bed. I’m one to make lists in my head as I rise, but today I stayed in bed with my beloved. Just stayed in place. Hard for me – this staying STILL.

The dawn was in transition. Somewhere between summer’s end and fall’s beginning. It was cold, and warm and lovely.

BE WHERE YOU ARE. Relish it because there is no other place to be.

Runaway Heart

When I was little, I used to run away from home a lot. I’d pack a snack and hide behind our house. I’d sit with my back against my bedroom wall and stare out at the palm trees. Sometimes, I would plant watermelon seeds with my fingers; digging little holes between slips of grass. I stay hidden until I got bored, or hungry, or both. Eventually, as rosy dusk would fall on our subdivision, I would return home. My parents would put on a big show about how happy they were that I was back, and tell me how much they missed me.

Eventually, I figured out that my mother could actually see me from the house, and that she knew the whereabouts of my secret hiding spot. So, when I was big enough, about eight or nine, I would run away to my grandparents’ house. They lived about three blocks away, but a canal separated our neighborhood from theirs. The fervent walk seemed endless to me in my childhood rage.

My Grandmother would invite me in (she always seemed to know when I was coming???) and we’d sit at her kitchen table while I wailed about the horrors of the day. Eventually her phone would ring. “Yes, yes hello! Uh huh…Yes, She is….Ok!”

“Grandma, who was that????” I’d ask.        

“Wrong number” She’d reply.

 ***********************************************

I go in for a biopsy tomorrow.

They are trying to rule out endometriosis as the cause of our recurrent losses. Sadly, you have to have a series of miscarriages before the insurance will cover the cost of these tests! Think of how much money and heartache would be saved if they investigated these things BEFORE people began IVF? Could you imagine this happening in life outside the realm of medicine? It would be as if you’d have to get in a few car accidents before they check to see if you’d pass the driving test.

Nevertheless, I’m off track again. Insurance does that to me….

I hate biopsies. I’ve never seen a happy biopsy. They always come with some baggage and discomfort. The Bear will be going with me, which is nice. And my Doc gave me a prescription for a valium. Even nicer! Hopefully I will be dreaming of bunnies….

I bring all of this up because it makes me miss my grandmother more than ever. I wish I could just run away behind her house, or sit at her kitchen table and cry. I’m so exhausted by this process.

I just have to remember why I am doing this….for love.

Full circle.

M.

IVF and the Newlywed: The Possession!!!!

It's a gorgeous day out today and I am hoping to get outside and bask in some leftover sun. It will be nippy in New England in no time. The Bear is very sick today, so I'm playing nursemaid. Nothing much to report...we went to the Dr. this week and she gave both The Bear and me a battery of blood tests. She's trying to discover why we have had so many miscarriages. She also wants me to do a biopsy to see if there's anything going on in my womb. I negotiated for a valium. I'll tell you, I am sick of people hanging out between my legs. I am sick of this process and all the emotions tied to it.


I'm on a two month hiatus from IVF and it has been SO NICE to get my body back. My mind is clear and focussed, not overwritted by the excess of meds. I really don't want to think about a biopsy or anything having to do with my netherparts- except pleasure.


I am going to try to find time this weekend to find myself again. I don't know what that means yet, but there's this funny , quirky lass inside here somewhere, who's been in hiding for a wee bit. I've got to shake things up and bring her out again. I miss that silly bitch.


I couldn't help it, but when the Bear started vying for my sympathy vote with his cough,cough, sick, sick, I told him to imagine if his balls were the size of grapefruit and he got 3 shots every day! Then, come to me for sympathy.
So who's taken over my body, and when can the real M come back??

The Root of Love

I am reading a book called "The Places That Scare You." By Pema Chodron. She is a white anglo woman woman who bacame a tibetan monk after living a life as wife and mother. While her words speak of the Buddhist faith, meditation and balance, her history rests on a life not unlike our own.

This week I was reading a section on honoring yourself and others. She speaks of creating a meditiative practice where you wish for peace, strenght, love for yourself and others. " I wish ( name) finds comfort, and the root of comfort. I wish (your beloved) finds strength, and the root of strength". It goes like that.

I started to think of "the root of" a virtue that she often mentions in this chant. Its the digging down deep to find the nurturing origins of that strength, love and power. The root. I love that idea of finding the root of what you need to sustain you.

Chodoron also mentions that as you continue the practice, you begin to make wishes for those you love, eventually, you also begin to make wishes for those that "irritate" you. She says it is hard to wish goodness on those that have hurt you, but once you can do that, you can let everything go.

*******

I promised I would throw a stone in the ocean and make a wish for every person who is experiencing challenges with conceiving or loss . I decided to wait until we were in Bermuda, where the water was aqua and sentient. My husband and I swam out of a cove on Horeshoe bay. It was raining.  I used a handful of pink sand to make my tribute to you. For a moment I felt like we were all connected by a golden thread.

Dear reader-
"I wish you happiness, and the root of happiness.
I wish you strength, and the root of strength.
I wish you love, and the root of love.
I wish you faith, and the root of faith.
I wish you good health, and the root of good health.
I wish you a happy family, and the root of that family. "


With love...
M

IVF and the Newlywed: The Stone

The Bear and I are going to visit our baby Doctor tomorrow.  I’m dreading it even more than the opening of football season. I love my MD. I think she’s brilliant and strong, and everything I would imagine a professional and self-actualized woman should be. If I wasn’t her patient, and met her at a cocktail party, I’d seek her out as a friend. But sitting across from her in her tiny office, with my husband at my side and her huge computer screen of my charts and statistics blocking my way, I just feel awful.

I used to be the proud , self-actualized woman I see in her. At work I am still seemingly so. But those post-cycle visits where she tells me about what went wrong make me shrivel up like a stone.

There was a time once, a few years ago, where I caught a glimpse of my ovaries on the ultrasound screen. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, just two tiny orbs of light. When I asked the technician what we were looking at, she said “These are your eggs”.I laid back and I imagined these celestial, radiant things inside of me. This giver of light!

I want to be that girl again. The one who hoped for great things and didn’t see the obstacles between a wish and the prize. The girl who worked hard, made people smile, and was always grateful.

I wish this process didn’t dry us out emotionally. I wish I was still bubbly and effervescent. I hope I find that girl again. I’d like to give her a hug and tell her it’s all going to be okay…. 

IVF and the Newlywed: Hidden & Seen

I went to visit my Guru today. To reach her I needed to walk through the Boston Public Garden. I was in such a rush. Walking briskly, I became so frustrated by the winding paths and curving roads that were in my way, I nearly forgot to see the striking beauty of this magic place.

No road is straight in the Public Garden, they rope like serpentine chains around old dogwood trees, bronze statues, a lake with swan boats and a rose garden. I was careening through the park, late for my appointment, when I stopped dead in my tracks.

“BE, where you ARE!” I said to myself.

Why are we predisposed to rushing? To getting to the finish line and missing out on the view? To forget the path curves for a purpose?

There is a concept in Japanese Garden Design called “mie gakure” which translates to mean “hidden and seen”. It is - to quote the experts- “a central design principle in Japanese stroll gardens, where the path curves and elements are arranged so that new, unexpected views are discovered at each turn.” * 

When we walk in a straight line, sometimes we only see what is in front of us. Maybe we get to our final destination faster, but what of the journey in-between?

The “a-ha!”moments of discovery?

I think of what I might be missing, when I am hell-bent on this IVF journey. Is my vision so blighted by the “finish line” that I forget to see all that I have around me? Look how lucky we are, to have family that loves us, a heart within that beats soundly and the ability to make bold choices with our lives and reproductive futures. These are truly gifts.

The park taught me something today in its silent, luscious beauty. I wasn’t looking for a sign, but maybe that winding road made me look up from the path I was on and take in something important. I need to remember to LOOK AROUND more often. To slow down and marvel at what I DO have, rather than regret and rush towards what I do not.

May your journey bring you much strength, happiness and LOVE…

(* Discover Nikkei, Japanese Immigrants and their Descendants www.discovernikkei.org/nikkeialbum/en/search/tag/garden)

Puppypandemonium

I want a dog.

I know , I know! My sister tells me that many women on the baby train go through the puppy obsession. That was the precise reason I have been suppressing the urge. Of course I don’t want to WALK it outside in the snow, but I will cuddle with it and give it baths. We were just in Bermuda for our one year anniversary and we saw this tragic ad for the humane society. It had all these little creatures that had been terribly abused, staring at the camera through  one good eye, while Sarah McLauhlin sang “I Will Remember You….”. Under each sad face, a caption, “Why did they hurt me?” “Why must I die?” “Won’t you help me?”

I know it was incredibly manipulative but I couldn’t stop balling.  Why must I always feel that I need to “save” someone or something? Can’t our lives be marked with other good deeds, like helping old ladies cross the street, or leaving little presents for a depressed co-worker?

And why would anyone think that the acquisition of a four-legged, steadfast companion would keep the baby blues at bay? Perhaps it is the gift of unrelenting love. A lick on a face when you are feeling your most bloated and unattractive from clomid, or hcG or progesterone. A nip at your fingers saying “I love you! You are barkalicious!”

Shadow, a lab mix, can be found on the petfinders website. She’s looking for a home in New England…

IVF and the Newlywed: Our Second Trip Around the Sun

Tomorrow marks our first wedding anniversary…..
I never expected to be married, particulary, at the ripe age of 40. But sometimes love throws you for a loop. Had I done it sooner, I might have been with the wrong person. Had I waited, keeping my heart quietly hidden, I would missed out on this jewel of a man.

Our Red Sox Wedding

My husband is a Big Boston Boy. Everything about him is bold and robust. He loves deeply and laughs loudly and has a golden heart.
Who would have imagined that our first year of marriage would be so full of challenges and triumps. The trials of baby-making have certainly hampered our spontaneous romps on the living room floor, but we created loving rituals for all the landmarks of IVF. I know I was meant to be with him, and meant to go on this journey, even though it hasn’t always been easy.
We’re taking a short break from IVF, and I cannot begin to tell you how nice it feels to have my “body” back. I feel whole again. ME again. I am looking forward to enjoying this hiatus from meds and Dr. visits. We leave for the Tropics tomorrow….
Here is a poem I treasure. I used it in our wedding album. I believe LOVE has a way of finding people. It can manifest itself in many forms.

Marriage
BY LAWRENCE RAAB

Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.

*****************************************************

…..And this is always one that tingles the loins….

One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII
BY PABLO NERUDA

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.


TRANSLATED BY MARK EISNER