Bitter and want to talk about it?

There is a new speakeasy in the Infertility blogosphere. A little, tucked away space down an alley thisaway. To gain entrance one must knock three times on the arched door and wait for the peephole to open. Once open you must identify yourself as being sick and tired of being infertile. You will then be escorted in, hat & coat checked in, and somehow a beverage will be placed into your hands. You will hear the soulful and aching sounds of a woman singing the blues from another room. You will hear the clinking of glasses at the bar. You will hear, from a nearby booth, a group of women swearing like sailors. You look up just in time to see a woman come out of a powder room, the scent of progesterone in oil wafting behind her. You will be at home. Safe. Protected by dark brick walls and an off the grid location.

Are you Mafia? Are you? Come find out.

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