As you hit I-10 and head east for a ways, you are ushered out of town by an easy to miss but mighty important landmark: Woman Hollerin' Creek. The history of Woman Hollerin' is a long one, archetypal even, her origins, sketchy at best, and, therefore all the more intriguing. The sign is frequently stolen because everyone who noticed her wants a little piece, right?
My picture was taken there once by a friend who didn't understand, who didn't get it, who subsequently lost the photo and has no idea what it would have meant to me.
Next time the sign needs replacing, I'll save the state some money. I will find someone, anyone I can, stop them on I-10 and have the picture taken again. I will blow it up, mural size at leats, so maybe, just maybe someone will see-and hear- that I am SCREAMING.
Can you hear me over there??? I've had it with trying to create life in my body. Life,the life I create, will have to be outside my body, in my garden, in my blankets ,in my cooking, but more than likely not in my womb, not necessarily because it's not possible but because I can no longer be a one woman band and out of self-preservaion I am telling myself it's just not going to happen because HOPE is sometimes too damn painful.
DH went to the doctor with my list of questions, none of which were answered because the doctor wants to do yet another SA. When DH asked him about DNA fragmentation, the doc responded usually people with lower counts have that kind of issue. Did Dh ask him to just sign the
ing form? No, of course not. So the test won't be done before we have the visit to the RE (who never returned my three phone calls about signing the DNA frag requisition form anyway) later this month.
In the meantime, if you listen very carefully as you drive down the road you'll be able to make out my hollers, waxing and waning, a train whistling in the distance warning those who dare to cross her tracks.