First, let me just say WOW. Thank you all so much for your baby-makin’ mood mix. It’s SO bad that I’m actually considering putting it on my iPod. I’m particularly interested to see how Baby Elephant Walk would affect our, ahem, rhythm. The comments are still open, so if you have any more amazing suggestions, I’d love to hear them.
Anyhow, remember that awkward church conversation? The unwitting asker sent me a long email apologizing profusely and sharing her own infertility story. Just goes to show, temporary idiocy happens to all of us. Even those of us who should know better, and I’m no exception. I hereby vow to give people the benefit of the doubt. Or try.
The good news is that she’s hooking me up with a fertility herbologist. My republihppie mother would be proud. I’m so much more comfortable with natural medicine than modern medicine. While it absolutely has its place, I avoid it where possible. Those undergrad psychopharmacology lectures really freaked me out. And while I know plants can do freaky things to the brain (opium, marijuana, magic mushrooms), there’s something a lot less sinister about the general plant category (carrots, basil, valerian root) than the medicine category(sodiumimgonnakillyouate, benzinechemicaldependacyon).
I’m finding this period to be particularly productive–step 1: gather lovemaking music. Step 2: herbs. I’ll file it under “can’t hurt, might help.” Step 3: Baby Elephant Walk.