I looked down last night in bed to discover that I was leaking MILK! After checking with Dr Google that this is within the bounds of normal for 4ish months pregnant, (it is), I feel ridiculously proud! Hollie says it's just one more sign of being 'one big bundle of hormones'. Whatever the reason, I'm so happy to be leaking, not vomiting. This has been the best week in the last 3 months. I've spent three days at the farm with Joey and Helen making garden beds, got sunned at a picnic with Cath who is 6 weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy and slept through the night for the first time since the nausea started. I can't wait to go home to clean and fuss and garden and relax in the last few days before school starts again.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Recovery...?
Windy and grey, but not cold.
I'm in an armchair at Joey and Helen's place. The school holidays are finally here and at 14 weeks, I think, hope, that the morning sickness is easing.
The last eight weeks have been some of the hardest I've ever had. I have certainly never felt so sick for so long before, and the confusion and anxiety over why the vomiting is so bad, how simple nausea can be so utterly miserable and defeating, what to do about work when I can't go more than half an hour without needing to lie down or retch uselessly again. Being so nauseous feels like being squeezed by something all over - it's so oppressive and all encompassing.
In addition, at week 8 I bled dramatically- a huge gush that couldn't seem like anything but miscarriage. Except that it wasn't and two (long, long) days later we got to see the little creature wriggle on screen at the hospital. I felt tremendous relief, not because it was still alive but because it meant all the sickness hadn't been for nothing. At the same time I was disappointed in no small way, a miscarriage would have meant the nausea would stop - a measure I guess of how sick and beaten I felt, given that this baby is so wanted, so planned, so longed for.
Right now the little creature is 9cm long and kicking, sucking, swallowing, rolling over, waving and smiling away in there. We saw it again at 13 weeks and it has utterly changed my feeling about the pregnancy. I feel like that's my BABY in there now. I like to know that even though I can't feel it yet, it can feel me.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Success
Rainy and fresh.
Superstition has kept me from writing anything at all for the last two months. I've been flattered that people have asked if I'll update the blog eventually, but not enough that it felt like a good idea to actually put these words in print...
I'm PREGNANT. First shot miracle. One fuck wonder.
That'll do for today. I'm 10 weeks, so sick with morning sickness, and PREGNANT.
Xox
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Not Knowing
Bright and sunny.
So, three inseminations, done.
The second two were ridiculously much easier than the first... bad puns all round by the third time. I have a feeling that the last one was a little too late, and perhaps our syringe technique was not perfect the first two times but it's a beginning, at least. Who would have ever thought that I would find myself suggesting that perhaps if I went down to get some milk, Joey might use the time to put some sperm in a jar for us. What a bizarre thing this is.
All the sperm business was over by Wednesday and Joey and Helen didn't have to go home until Sunday, which meant we all kind of got a holiday together. Hollie was at work, but home reasonably early so we all got to eat and talk lots. Regardless of whether we get pregnant this time around, it was such an important, lovely time together. I felt so happy with the four of us all drinking tea together. Sometimes it feels like this is the best possible way of getting pregnant (awkwardness aside) - so many good cups of tea this way. And it does feel like we are absolutely enveloped by love through the whole process this way too. I know that the normal thing is not to tell anyone until you've got safely past the miscarriage mark, but that was just never going to work for us. It's too much of a big deal for each of us to make it worth keeping it a secret. It's been so great having our friends offering excitement, good luck, things to think about and advice. The other night someone asked me whether we would consider, if there was such a thing on the market, using a penis shaped dildo with a built in syringe to inseminate. How could I keep the fact of trying to get pregnant a secret with that kind of question on offer!?
Now we are waiting. Or, more precisely, we are in a state of Not Knowing. The difference being that you usually know what you are waiting for - to go overseas, until the holidays come, for the next episode to come online, for the train - but this seems to be all about the state of simply not knowing what will happen. I am still on school holidays, which probably gives me a bit more time than usual to wonder, but even so, it is ridiculous the way that despite absolutely knowing that there is no way that I could feel pregnant, or have any kind of physical changes yet, I keep surreptitiously feeling up my tits to see if they've got more sensitive and trying to work out if I'm hungry or actually feeling nauseous. It's not altogether comfortable, the wondering, because if all that change is going to happen, I'd really just rather know now. I feel a little bit like I'm hovering between being ordinary or something absolutely life changing happening. I'd rather know! But soon enough. And mostly, I just can't actually imagine that I would be pregnant this first time. It felt like too much of a practice round. We were so awkward and emotional, it seems like getting through that should have been enough to achieve for this month.
So, three inseminations, done.
The second two were ridiculously much easier than the first... bad puns all round by the third time. I have a feeling that the last one was a little too late, and perhaps our syringe technique was not perfect the first two times but it's a beginning, at least. Who would have ever thought that I would find myself suggesting that perhaps if I went down to get some milk, Joey might use the time to put some sperm in a jar for us. What a bizarre thing this is.
All the sperm business was over by Wednesday and Joey and Helen didn't have to go home until Sunday, which meant we all kind of got a holiday together. Hollie was at work, but home reasonably early so we all got to eat and talk lots. Regardless of whether we get pregnant this time around, it was such an important, lovely time together. I felt so happy with the four of us all drinking tea together. Sometimes it feels like this is the best possible way of getting pregnant (awkwardness aside) - so many good cups of tea this way. And it does feel like we are absolutely enveloped by love through the whole process this way too. I know that the normal thing is not to tell anyone until you've got safely past the miscarriage mark, but that was just never going to work for us. It's too much of a big deal for each of us to make it worth keeping it a secret. It's been so great having our friends offering excitement, good luck, things to think about and advice. The other night someone asked me whether we would consider, if there was such a thing on the market, using a penis shaped dildo with a built in syringe to inseminate. How could I keep the fact of trying to get pregnant a secret with that kind of question on offer!?
Now we are waiting. Or, more precisely, we are in a state of Not Knowing. The difference being that you usually know what you are waiting for - to go overseas, until the holidays come, for the next episode to come online, for the train - but this seems to be all about the state of simply not knowing what will happen. I am still on school holidays, which probably gives me a bit more time than usual to wonder, but even so, it is ridiculous the way that despite absolutely knowing that there is no way that I could feel pregnant, or have any kind of physical changes yet, I keep surreptitiously feeling up my tits to see if they've got more sensitive and trying to work out if I'm hungry or actually feeling nauseous. It's not altogether comfortable, the wondering, because if all that change is going to happen, I'd really just rather know now. I feel a little bit like I'm hovering between being ordinary or something absolutely life changing happening. I'd rather know! But soon enough. And mostly, I just can't actually imagine that I would be pregnant this first time. It felt like too much of a practice round. We were so awkward and emotional, it seems like getting through that should have been enough to achieve for this month.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Ten things about insemination
Dark. Cosy in bed.
I am judgemental about people who write blogs with posts that are called things like 7 things I should have done before having a baby or top 3 reasons why we love cloth nappies, because all those dot points seem to say they can only think in bite sized pieces rather than some kind of sequential, coherant whole.
I can't seem to think in any kind of sequential, coherent whole. Bite sized pieces it is.
1. Last night we tried to get pregnant for the first time. We are trying three consecutive days, so tonight will be the second. It was a hugely much bigger deal - emotionally- than I think any of us expected.
2. I won't speak for the others, but what I found hard was the intensity of gratitude I felt. And accompanying fear that it's too much to ask of them. I find it so hard to handle the idea that Joey and Helen are doing this incredible thing for us, for me, and there is nothing I can do or say to even express how grateful I am. Helen asked if I meant that I feel I need to repay it somehow, or if it is the discomfort of indebtedness. But it's not that. It's really just the overwhelmingness of gratitude. Who would have known that it could be such a difficult feeling.
3. Hollie said, just accept the hugeness of the generosity. You'll give it back to the world, in your own way. I was surprised by that, coming from her, but comforted too.
4. I said I wouldn't speak for the others' feelings, but I think we all got a pretty big dose of Shit Got Real! It seemed silly, given how much preparation had gone into this. You'd think we'd have been prepared, but we weren't. Hollie (lawyer) made us laugh by worrying about how incredibly unregulated and "off the grid" the process is...
5. The process. I washed three jars, different sizes. All with lids. I had no idea what would be most appropriate! Then we went for a walk, after working out that they would message when we should come home, and that the jar would get tucked somewhere warm. We walked. I freaked out. We got a bit hysterical about how no one knew that we were wandering the streets waiting to get a message telling us that we had sperm waiting for us in a jar. I did that thing with the corner of a park bench to get the top off a ginger beer bottle that needed a bottle opener. Drank ginger beer. Picked lavender.
Then we got the message and so we walked home, took the jar from Joey on the stairs. We all hugged. I thought about how the family from school who lives in the flat below us had no idea what their kid's teacher was getting up to in the stairwell. Helen and Joey went to get icecream. Things felt momentous. Got it in the syringe and the syringe in the right place, and... Well now we just wait and see!
Then we got the message and so we walked home, took the jar from Joey on the stairs. We all hugged. I thought about how the family from school who lives in the flat below us had no idea what their kid's teacher was getting up to in the stairwell. Helen and Joey went to get icecream. Things felt momentous. Got it in the syringe and the syringe in the right place, and... Well now we just wait and see!
6. The funniest thing - actually from earlier in the day. I had to get a syringe, a medicine one with no needle (obviously), but when I went to the chemist, the ones there seemed way too big. So stupidly I asked if they had any smaller ones and predictably they asked what for. Oh God. I mumbled something about giving the cat antibiotics but having lost the little medicine syringe and left as quickly as I could. But it gave me an idea. Hollie and I may have made a baby, using a nice little syringe that I got from the vet.
7. All the straight women in my life had warned us about the weird/gross factor of sperm. I didn't think it was weird or gross. I was too busy feeling grateful.
8. After the insemination we did the crossword in bed. We did quite well. It was very soothing. I felt like Hollie and I were really in this whole thing together - I'd been worrying about this part of everything, given how it really shows up how we really can't make a baby with just the two of us. But it felt like we made a baby with the two of us.
9. Helen and Joey came home and we all had tea in the living room. The cat saw Helen was still jittery and chose to sit on her and go nuts purring and headbutting. I loved everyone so much.
10. We went to bed. I didn't sleep, but I felt happy. In the middle of the night I got up and peed on all three brands of Ovulation Prediction Kits to see if we'd got the timing right. All three said yes. I went to sleep.
X
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Bed
Overcast and mild. Still in bed at midday!!
This time together feels really important. We might make a baby together tonight.
Hollie is under the weather and has the day off. We've spent it in bed so far... such a luxury. Watching ABC family drama and talking about how our family tree will look. Working out the plan for this evening (the sperm logistics!) and talking about worries. Talking about what we are looking forward to. Sorting out Christmas plans. The cat thinks all his Christmases have come today, with both of us still in bed for hugs.
This time together feels really important. We might make a baby together tonight.
Fingers crossed!!!
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Feminist
Cold, dark. Warming up my feet before getting into bed.
Julia Gillard lost the leadership spill tonight. I was moved that what brought her almost to tears was not losing the position, thanking her family, etc, but her hope that the next time a woman made it to being Prime Minister, it would be easier than it had been for her, that having been there first would have made some kind of a difference.
Closer to home, this week we managed to talk about sperm and how to hand it over. On Facebook. God, what a weird, weird thing this is. Glad to get the logistics sorted though - if we were blushing online, it's probably good we're all clear on what to do in the actual event.
So soon now. Feeling happy.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Day One
Sunny. A perfect winter day.
Today is special! Before I started keeping track of my cycle, month by month, I'd always thought of getting my period as being the end of a cycle - my body's way of saying, well, you didn't get pregnant (of course, how would I have?!) so we'll scrap all that and start again in a few days. However, as the fertility charts count it, the first day of your period is the first day of the new cycle, a definitive new beginning. Somehow I've swapped over to that way of thinking, which makes today the first day of the cycle in which we might, MIGHT, make a baby. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).
Partly I think I've swapped ways of thinking because of my joy each month over the way that ovulation shows up with all its miraculous temperature shifts and fern shaped patterns on a microscope slide - it means that the excitement is all over by about Day 14 and then it's just about waiting for my period to come so that I can start a new chart. Also, I can see the emotional benefit of understanding it as a new beginning, rather than marking the end of a failed attempt, once we are actually trying to get pregnant. It's a bit kinder on your feelings that way, I guess.
I've been thinking a lot about how it might feel to see 'not pregnant' turn up on the little tester stick thing. The odds are not in favour of getting pregnant first time, apparently. Dr Google seems to say that you have about a 1 in 4 chance each time of getting pregnant, with the reasonably common complication of miscarriage still to add into the equation after that. Another way of looking at it is that on average it takes six months of trying. I'm never sure how to feel about these numbers. Six months is not a hugely long time in some ways... It's only six tries, after all, but then any baby-making site, anywhere on the Internet, has story after story of people who do not get pregnant despite good health and best efforts, month after month, and the people who are telling those stories seem BROKEN by the accumulation of those negative pregnancy tests.
Will I feel broken too, if it takes a while?
My aunts tell me that I come from a line of "one fuck wonders". (Not my words!). I hope I inherited that!
X
Today is special! Before I started keeping track of my cycle, month by month, I'd always thought of getting my period as being the end of a cycle - my body's way of saying, well, you didn't get pregnant (of course, how would I have?!) so we'll scrap all that and start again in a few days. However, as the fertility charts count it, the first day of your period is the first day of the new cycle, a definitive new beginning. Somehow I've swapped over to that way of thinking, which makes today the first day of the cycle in which we might, MIGHT, make a baby. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).
Partly I think I've swapped ways of thinking because of my joy each month over the way that ovulation shows up with all its miraculous temperature shifts and fern shaped patterns on a microscope slide - it means that the excitement is all over by about Day 14 and then it's just about waiting for my period to come so that I can start a new chart. Also, I can see the emotional benefit of understanding it as a new beginning, rather than marking the end of a failed attempt, once we are actually trying to get pregnant. It's a bit kinder on your feelings that way, I guess.
I've been thinking a lot about how it might feel to see 'not pregnant' turn up on the little tester stick thing. The odds are not in favour of getting pregnant first time, apparently. Dr Google seems to say that you have about a 1 in 4 chance each time of getting pregnant, with the reasonably common complication of miscarriage still to add into the equation after that. Another way of looking at it is that on average it takes six months of trying. I'm never sure how to feel about these numbers. Six months is not a hugely long time in some ways... It's only six tries, after all, but then any baby-making site, anywhere on the Internet, has story after story of people who do not get pregnant despite good health and best efforts, month after month, and the people who are telling those stories seem BROKEN by the accumulation of those negative pregnancy tests.
Will I feel broken too, if it takes a while?
My aunts tell me that I come from a line of "one fuck wonders". (Not my words!). I hope I inherited that!
X
Monday, June 17, 2013
Long, long days
Wet. Again. A second week of having the Preps inside every lunch time will send me completely crazy!
The weekend was also crazy. Actually, our whole life feels like madness at the moment... Too much work and not nearly enough sleep or time to talk. Hollie's hours are even more long and ridiculous than usual and in addition to the usual truly insane work hours, she had a paper reappear from the job she had two years ago that needed one final edit before publication. She is one of the toughest people I know, when it comes to just knuckling down and doing it, but her life is looking pretty crazy from the outside. I don't really know how she is feeling on the inside... That would require seeing her for more than the hour before bed when we try to eat dinner and catch up and do the dishes and iron and work out what to do about the fact that we have no milk and it is raining... again!
I have also been working stupidly hard. I came apart at the seams a week ago though (my threshold is lower than Hollie's but it is still only the second time I've ever cried at school), and since then I've sorted out some things that should help, with the ever wonderful Harriet and a little bit of footstamping in the Principal's office. The school stuff is all looking significantly more do-able now, with a few new strategies and resources and the holidays also coming very soon. More than anything, I was struggling with the emotional task of managing all those kids, parents and co-teachers. I know that I couldn't possibly teach any other way, but when people tell me that teaching must be some much more emotionally easy than counselling was (my previous job) I feel like running down the list of emotional work that I do each day and explaining just how much this job requires all the same involvement of heart and mind... only unlike counselling it's not all over in discrete hour long blocks, you never have any idea what is coming up next, you get all of them all at once, all day long, not one-at-a-time with a reasonably certain lunch break. And in counselling, my job wasn't kids. Wild, wonderful kids who bend towards you like plants if you water them with love, making it double, triple as important to do it right, treat them well, love them back. Oh well.
The problem is, even with school on the up and up, a brand new dishwasher and Julia the German exchange student - who we've employed her to come and clean the house (and named the dishwasher after) - insemination #1 is approaching and we haven't really got much time for last minute getting ready. Emotionally, I mean. I remembered the other day that I have to find a needle-less syringe somewhere, but it's the emotional preparation I am wondering how we'll find the time for in the next couple of weeks, Actually, I feel prepared. Surprisingly, I feel calm - happy and quietly excited. But I think Hollie has a few last worries to work out. Obviously, it's not like we have ALL the emotional preparation to do in the next two weeks or I would be REALLY worried, but still. On the weekend, we should have talked about it, but we were so tired, emotions ran high, it was hard, there was arguing.
Anyway. Like school, the answer is always love, finding more time for love. I know this about Hollie: it never takes much. A head scratch and dinner. Flowers. Clean pyjamas. In the Complete Guide to Lesbian Conception, Pregnancy and Birth they say that before you have kids you should do this:
The Love Map (Truly! That's what they called it!)
- make a list of all the things that make you feel loved.
- from this list, prioritise and mark the top four ways of being loved that you absolutely must have or you start to feel stressed, insecure or alone.
- make sure something on the list happens every day.
I think Hol and I do a particularly good job at love in general, but the thoughtfulness that is behind this way of approaching each day is worth remembering in these days of 8pm finishing times. So, to dinner.
X
The weekend was also crazy. Actually, our whole life feels like madness at the moment... Too much work and not nearly enough sleep or time to talk. Hollie's hours are even more long and ridiculous than usual and in addition to the usual truly insane work hours, she had a paper reappear from the job she had two years ago that needed one final edit before publication. She is one of the toughest people I know, when it comes to just knuckling down and doing it, but her life is looking pretty crazy from the outside. I don't really know how she is feeling on the inside... That would require seeing her for more than the hour before bed when we try to eat dinner and catch up and do the dishes and iron and work out what to do about the fact that we have no milk and it is raining... again!
I have also been working stupidly hard. I came apart at the seams a week ago though (my threshold is lower than Hollie's but it is still only the second time I've ever cried at school), and since then I've sorted out some things that should help, with the ever wonderful Harriet and a little bit of footstamping in the Principal's office. The school stuff is all looking significantly more do-able now, with a few new strategies and resources and the holidays also coming very soon. More than anything, I was struggling with the emotional task of managing all those kids, parents and co-teachers. I know that I couldn't possibly teach any other way, but when people tell me that teaching must be some much more emotionally easy than counselling was (my previous job) I feel like running down the list of emotional work that I do each day and explaining just how much this job requires all the same involvement of heart and mind... only unlike counselling it's not all over in discrete hour long blocks, you never have any idea what is coming up next, you get all of them all at once, all day long, not one-at-a-time with a reasonably certain lunch break. And in counselling, my job wasn't kids. Wild, wonderful kids who bend towards you like plants if you water them with love, making it double, triple as important to do it right, treat them well, love them back. Oh well.
The problem is, even with school on the up and up, a brand new dishwasher and Julia the German exchange student - who we've employed her to come and clean the house (and named the dishwasher after) - insemination #1 is approaching and we haven't really got much time for last minute getting ready. Emotionally, I mean. I remembered the other day that I have to find a needle-less syringe somewhere, but it's the emotional preparation I am wondering how we'll find the time for in the next couple of weeks, Actually, I feel prepared. Surprisingly, I feel calm - happy and quietly excited. But I think Hollie has a few last worries to work out. Obviously, it's not like we have ALL the emotional preparation to do in the next two weeks or I would be REALLY worried, but still. On the weekend, we should have talked about it, but we were so tired, emotions ran high, it was hard, there was arguing.
Anyway. Like school, the answer is always love, finding more time for love. I know this about Hollie: it never takes much. A head scratch and dinner. Flowers. Clean pyjamas. In the Complete Guide to Lesbian Conception, Pregnancy and Birth they say that before you have kids you should do this:
The Love Map (Truly! That's what they called it!)
- make a list of all the things that make you feel loved.
- from this list, prioritise and mark the top four ways of being loved that you absolutely must have or you start to feel stressed, insecure or alone.
- make sure something on the list happens every day.
I think Hol and I do a particularly good job at love in general, but the thoughtfulness that is behind this way of approaching each day is worth remembering in these days of 8pm finishing times. So, to dinner.
X
Saturday, June 8, 2013
How much gratitude?
Sunny Melbourne day! I spent the morning building a chicken pen at school in the warmest of autumn sun.
I got this message this morning: "Soooo, we are just planning July - when are you fertile?"
How much gratitude can you possibly feel? The newspaper is full of disasters, school has been a week of struggle and sadness, but that message makes me feel like the sun shone just for me today.
I got this message this morning: "Soooo, we are just planning July - when are you fertile?"
How much gratitude can you possibly feel? The newspaper is full of disasters, school has been a week of struggle and sadness, but that message makes me feel like the sun shone just for me today.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Mother, parent, mum...
Wet and getting colder... the air was crisp this morning!
I went to the doctor yesterday for the second of my HepB vaccinations. This is because a month or two ago, my GP recommended that I get a set of blood tests done to check things pre-baby-making. I'm not actually sure what they checked, to be honest. Whether I'd had chicken pox and what my iron levels were like? Anyway, the same week, I also had my breasts scanned as part of the routine of managing whatever risk it is that I may or may not have inherited. (This post so far makes it sound like I have a lot of medical tests which is not actually true!) The ultrasound lady had said it all looked fine, but then a week later, I got a letter from the doctor saying only that I had been 'Recalled: For Discussion of Test Results'. Of course, I panicked... but it was only that I'd apparently never been vaccinated against HepB.
Anyway, the point of all this is that while I was getting the injection, the GP casually handed me a package of pamphlets that she "always gives to people who looking to get pregnant" and recommended that I take them home to read in case there was information in there that I needed. It felt absolutely bizarre to accept the package... I felt like the honest thing to do would be to hand it back and tell her that we were actually just pretending and that she should save it for genuine prospective parents! It was precisely the same feeling as being handed my the class roll on my first day of teaching as a 'real teacher'... I really felt like I'd got into a situation where somehow I'd accidentally been mistaken for the teacher when really I should probably be joining the kids sitting with their legs crossed on the floor.
I've been thinking about this, about how having a baby makes you a parent, a mother, 'mum', since seeing the counsellor the other week. Hollie and I were talking about it in the car afterwards, because a fair bit of the session was given to explaining and working out what it was that we were imagining as roles for everyone in this situation. Anyway, some of the mother/parent/mum words feel easier to approach than others. 'Mother' and 'parent' feel relatively more simple when you make them into verbs, for example. Mothering, with all its emotional and practical tasks is something I feel strongly about even in my work as a teacher, and babies fit so snugly into my arms, so it's not something that seems like an unmanageably huge stretch to imagine myself doing - although, God, I really, really hope that I do it well. Parenting feels like an extension of this... the day to day running of a household with children - probably because this is how we've been defining it for the purposes of distinguishing between 'parent' and 'dad' when people ask about what Joey's role will be. That also seems approachable enough... I did enough parenting duties for so many of my nanny jobs that I hope I've at least got the basics. To be someone's mother, though - that seems unfathomably huge. And the idea of being called mum by a kid - and not just a kid at school who has got comfy leaning against me at silent reading and forgot I wasn't Mum after all - that also seems enormous. I guess any new role takes a bit of getting used to - and, after all, I do feel like a teacher now, I teach, I am someone's teacher... I presume the same magic will work itself so that 'mum' also feels real enough for me and Hollie by the time it comes around. I am so curious to know how we are all going to end up relating to this potential little person. Two mums is only the beginning of the web of love I hope we manage to make.
Four weeks to first try!
x
I went to the doctor yesterday for the second of my HepB vaccinations. This is because a month or two ago, my GP recommended that I get a set of blood tests done to check things pre-baby-making. I'm not actually sure what they checked, to be honest. Whether I'd had chicken pox and what my iron levels were like? Anyway, the same week, I also had my breasts scanned as part of the routine of managing whatever risk it is that I may or may not have inherited. (This post so far makes it sound like I have a lot of medical tests which is not actually true!) The ultrasound lady had said it all looked fine, but then a week later, I got a letter from the doctor saying only that I had been 'Recalled: For Discussion of Test Results'. Of course, I panicked... but it was only that I'd apparently never been vaccinated against HepB.
Anyway, the point of all this is that while I was getting the injection, the GP casually handed me a package of pamphlets that she "always gives to people who looking to get pregnant" and recommended that I take them home to read in case there was information in there that I needed. It felt absolutely bizarre to accept the package... I felt like the honest thing to do would be to hand it back and tell her that we were actually just pretending and that she should save it for genuine prospective parents! It was precisely the same feeling as being handed my the class roll on my first day of teaching as a 'real teacher'... I really felt like I'd got into a situation where somehow I'd accidentally been mistaken for the teacher when really I should probably be joining the kids sitting with their legs crossed on the floor.
I've been thinking about this, about how having a baby makes you a parent, a mother, 'mum', since seeing the counsellor the other week. Hollie and I were talking about it in the car afterwards, because a fair bit of the session was given to explaining and working out what it was that we were imagining as roles for everyone in this situation. Anyway, some of the mother/parent/mum words feel easier to approach than others. 'Mother' and 'parent' feel relatively more simple when you make them into verbs, for example. Mothering, with all its emotional and practical tasks is something I feel strongly about even in my work as a teacher, and babies fit so snugly into my arms, so it's not something that seems like an unmanageably huge stretch to imagine myself doing - although, God, I really, really hope that I do it well. Parenting feels like an extension of this... the day to day running of a household with children - probably because this is how we've been defining it for the purposes of distinguishing between 'parent' and 'dad' when people ask about what Joey's role will be. That also seems approachable enough... I did enough parenting duties for so many of my nanny jobs that I hope I've at least got the basics. To be someone's mother, though - that seems unfathomably huge. And the idea of being called mum by a kid - and not just a kid at school who has got comfy leaning against me at silent reading and forgot I wasn't Mum after all - that also seems enormous. I guess any new role takes a bit of getting used to - and, after all, I do feel like a teacher now, I teach, I am someone's teacher... I presume the same magic will work itself so that 'mum' also feels real enough for me and Hollie by the time it comes around. I am so curious to know how we are all going to end up relating to this potential little person. Two mums is only the beginning of the web of love I hope we manage to make.
Four weeks to first try!
x
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Relationships counselling
Rainy, dark. I should really be in bed.
Yesterday Hol and I went to see a psychologist/counsellor/relationships kind of person who was recommended to us by a community health centre as someone with experience helping "rainbow families" with planning for their (presumably multicoloured) babies. I was dubious and terribly hopeful that she'd be amazing at the same time. Dubious because I really wasn't at all sure that we had anything to talk to her about and I didn't want to spend the money telling a stranger about our plans if she wasn't going to be helpful, but terribly hopeful too because the closer we get, the more I feel like it would be very nice to have someone who's seen it all before to be there with some steady advice and cheerful practicality if we happened to need it!
She was great. She got us both talking, fished around in our language untangling what we meant with the inadequate words we have to describe relationships between us all, made sure we both got heard, kept Hollie's waffling on track and noticed when she hit the nerve with me about feeling very responsible for everyone. She also seemed genuinely excited for us, which is flattering, and gave the distinct impression that she thought us fit and proper parents (yes, I was looking for approval... Do you ever grow out of it?) She was sharp and kind, my two main criteria.
So, although I didn't really get much from the session in terms of new information or huge emotional revelations, the feeling of security, knowing that she's there and will be on top of everybody's best interests if any of us wanted her, it's a really good feeling.
In other news, we figured out a plan for the kitchen over the last week and I got all nerdy with Google Sketch Up, and now we know how we can fit in a dishwasher. Having a dishwasher is on the very top of my to do list for before we are allowed to have a baby, plus the kitchen we have now is functional but quite overwhelmingly made of brown faux wood grain laminate and quite strangely shaped so it is very exciting to think that we might be up for a change sometime soon.
That's it! I have to go to bed before I ruin a day of teaching for myself tomorrow by being too tired to enjoy the little guys!
X
Yesterday Hol and I went to see a psychologist/counsellor/relationships kind of person who was recommended to us by a community health centre as someone with experience helping "rainbow families" with planning for their (presumably multicoloured) babies. I was dubious and terribly hopeful that she'd be amazing at the same time. Dubious because I really wasn't at all sure that we had anything to talk to her about and I didn't want to spend the money telling a stranger about our plans if she wasn't going to be helpful, but terribly hopeful too because the closer we get, the more I feel like it would be very nice to have someone who's seen it all before to be there with some steady advice and cheerful practicality if we happened to need it!
She was great. She got us both talking, fished around in our language untangling what we meant with the inadequate words we have to describe relationships between us all, made sure we both got heard, kept Hollie's waffling on track and noticed when she hit the nerve with me about feeling very responsible for everyone. She also seemed genuinely excited for us, which is flattering, and gave the distinct impression that she thought us fit and proper parents (yes, I was looking for approval... Do you ever grow out of it?) She was sharp and kind, my two main criteria.
So, although I didn't really get much from the session in terms of new information or huge emotional revelations, the feeling of security, knowing that she's there and will be on top of everybody's best interests if any of us wanted her, it's a really good feeling.
In other news, we figured out a plan for the kitchen over the last week and I got all nerdy with Google Sketch Up, and now we know how we can fit in a dishwasher. Having a dishwasher is on the very top of my to do list for before we are allowed to have a baby, plus the kitchen we have now is functional but quite overwhelmingly made of brown faux wood grain laminate and quite strangely shaped so it is very exciting to think that we might be up for a change sometime soon.
That's it! I have to go to bed before I ruin a day of teaching for myself tomorrow by being too tired to enjoy the little guys!
X
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Six Weeks
Clear sky, cold night.
It's Week 6 at school - exactly half way through the term. It seems to have gone very fast this time. It's also six weeks until we give the baby-making a first go...
Six weeks!
I have all sorts of amazing opportunities lining up at work at the moment, with the potential that the school will take on the management of the Kinder that shares our school building, and that I'll be able to upgrade my qualifications to include being able to teach the really little kids (at the moment I'm only trained for P-6) and oversee the Kinder. I am a bit overwhelmed by how well it would all line up... Good part time work, staying in the school but not necessarily having to teach all the time, potentially being able to work from home a little. It's a job that should suit being at home with a baby very well. Now I just need to actually get pregnant...
Potentially in SIX WEEKS!
It's Week 6 at school - exactly half way through the term. It seems to have gone very fast this time. It's also six weeks until we give the baby-making a first go...
Six weeks!
I have all sorts of amazing opportunities lining up at work at the moment, with the potential that the school will take on the management of the Kinder that shares our school building, and that I'll be able to upgrade my qualifications to include being able to teach the really little kids (at the moment I'm only trained for P-6) and oversee the Kinder. I am a bit overwhelmed by how well it would all line up... Good part time work, staying in the school but not necessarily having to teach all the time, potentially being able to work from home a little. It's a job that should suit being at home with a baby very well. Now I just need to actually get pregnant...
Potentially in SIX WEEKS!
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Questions we get asked
Late autumn. Clouds and sudden sunshine.
Who's going to be the Dad? (Joey)
God, so are you going to have sex!? (I already do. With Hollie)
Who's getting pregnant? (Me)
Are you pregnant already? (No)
How long have you known each other? (We've been friends with Joey 10 years or so)
Oh, so you have to have IVF? (No, not unless there's a problem)
So when's it all going to happen? (July. Argh!)
How did you even bring that up with him!? (Letter. It was hard!)
Doesn't Helen mind? (Short answer, no. But for the beautiful explanation of why and how and what she thinks about it all - well, I guess Helen says it best. I'm just grateful)
What's he going to be - an uncle? (Nope. Sperm's from him... That makes him the father)
Oh... A turkey baster? (10mL syringe)
Are your parents excited? (Oh my goodness, yes)
But what will happen then.. does he have to, you know... (Yep. But I don't have to have anything to do with that bit of it all)
So, will they be able to take you to court for the baby? (Not if it's born in Victoria)
Who goes on the birth certificate? (Me and Hol)
Have they already got kids? (No)
A jar... Are you for real? (Yep)
Sorry, is this too personal? (Um... Well, I guess there's not much 'personal' when you're trying to make a baby with a group of four people)
Are they going to have kids? (Yes, I think so. Maybe not right away. They will be beautiful parents)
Aren't you worried about the whole legal side of it? (Not too much)
So... If they want kids, how come Helen is ok with it all? (She's a truly great person. Also, she just says - "it'll be your kid, we're just helping")
Don't you have to kind of get it in there some kind of special way? (No, the syringe is fine)
Who is going to stay home and look after the baby? (Me, mostly)
Does your school know yet? (No. Well, kind of)
But how long do you have before the sperm, you know, die in the jar? (Surprisingly long)
Do his parents know? (Yes)
Do you reckon Hollie will want to have a baby one day too? (Maybe. Maybe not)
I mean, how is that handover of the jar even going to happen? (Text message to let us know we're good to go probably! "The eagle has landed... You can come back from the pub now!")
Is it that you want a male role model? (Sort of. More that I'd like my kid to know their dad... The guy who made them, it's pretty special, even if he's not parenting in a day to day way)
Would you like to have just had sex? (As above, I already do have sex. With Hollie)
Do you need to get some kind of tests? (Not really)
How did you get all this information about the turkey baster method anyway? ("The complete guide to lesbian conception, pregnancy and birth". It's a great book)
Where will you have the baby? (Home, I hope)
So, Helen... is she, like, some kind of saint? (She's pretty magnificent, yes)
There are books about this stuff? (Sure are! There's a gayby boom, you know)
Will you have to try a few times do you think? (Fingers crossed, no!)
Who's going to be the Dad? (Joey)
God, so are you going to have sex!? (I already do. With Hollie)
Who's getting pregnant? (Me)
Are you pregnant already? (No)
How long have you known each other? (We've been friends with Joey 10 years or so)
Oh, so you have to have IVF? (No, not unless there's a problem)
So when's it all going to happen? (July. Argh!)
How did you even bring that up with him!? (Letter. It was hard!)
Doesn't Helen mind? (Short answer, no. But for the beautiful explanation of why and how and what she thinks about it all - well, I guess Helen says it best. I'm just grateful)
What's he going to be - an uncle? (Nope. Sperm's from him... That makes him the father)
Oh... A turkey baster? (10mL syringe)
Are your parents excited? (Oh my goodness, yes)
But what will happen then.. does he have to, you know... (Yep. But I don't have to have anything to do with that bit of it all)
So, will they be able to take you to court for the baby? (Not if it's born in Victoria)
Who goes on the birth certificate? (Me and Hol)
Have they already got kids? (No)
A jar... Are you for real? (Yep)
Sorry, is this too personal? (Um... Well, I guess there's not much 'personal' when you're trying to make a baby with a group of four people)
Are they going to have kids? (Yes, I think so. Maybe not right away. They will be beautiful parents)
Aren't you worried about the whole legal side of it? (Not too much)
So... If they want kids, how come Helen is ok with it all? (She's a truly great person. Also, she just says - "it'll be your kid, we're just helping")
Don't you have to kind of get it in there some kind of special way? (No, the syringe is fine)
Who is going to stay home and look after the baby? (Me, mostly)
Does your school know yet? (No. Well, kind of)
But how long do you have before the sperm, you know, die in the jar? (Surprisingly long)
Do his parents know? (Yes)
Do you reckon Hollie will want to have a baby one day too? (Maybe. Maybe not)
I mean, how is that handover of the jar even going to happen? (Text message to let us know we're good to go probably! "The eagle has landed... You can come back from the pub now!")
Is it that you want a male role model? (Sort of. More that I'd like my kid to know their dad... The guy who made them, it's pretty special, even if he's not parenting in a day to day way)
Would you like to have just had sex? (As above, I already do have sex. With Hollie)
Do you need to get some kind of tests? (Not really)
How did you get all this information about the turkey baster method anyway? ("The complete guide to lesbian conception, pregnancy and birth". It's a great book)
Where will you have the baby? (Home, I hope)
So, Helen... is she, like, some kind of saint? (She's pretty magnificent, yes)
There are books about this stuff? (Sure are! There's a gayby boom, you know)
Will you have to try a few times do you think? (Fingers crossed, no!)
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Overwhelmed
Perfect Canberra blue autumn day.
I spent the day with Joey and Helen building their first garden bed today. Six weeks ago they moved into Joey's childhood home - a bush block with wombats, echidnas and roos, a dam, a wealth of trees and logs, hills, slopes, rocks and sticks, and a big old house cluttered with books, pots, tins, paintings, prints, photos, instruments, toys, shelves, cloth and drawers. The verandas have boxes and boxes of tools and bottling jars, newspaper and pottery, there's a swing set, a fallen down cubby, surfboards by the dam, rusty bikes, a Beetle filled with kids books, a windmill in pieces, a potters wheel, a giant ants nest. They are in the thick of making sense of the wonder and jumble of it all, getting the solar power, the generator and the pump for the dam all working, and getting the first garden built felt like a big achievement for the settling in effort!
While we dug and made edges, we also talked all day, off and on, about the baby collective. Helen is so eloquent when she talks about why she thinks that it is a wonderful thing for us to all be doing together. I didn't know before today that she'd thought about it from so many angles, and with such generosity towards all of the different perspectives. She makes me feel safe, and overtaken by such a sense of trust and love and overwhelming good fortune instead of the usual worry and fuss. And it is overwhelming - there is so much love and goodwill being extended for a child who doesn't even exist yet, and in every hidey-hole, magical bit of junk and little animal track into the tall grass all I can see is the joy of summer holidays together here and that feels like such a richness it is completely unbelievable too.
I spent the day with Joey and Helen building their first garden bed today. Six weeks ago they moved into Joey's childhood home - a bush block with wombats, echidnas and roos, a dam, a wealth of trees and logs, hills, slopes, rocks and sticks, and a big old house cluttered with books, pots, tins, paintings, prints, photos, instruments, toys, shelves, cloth and drawers. The verandas have boxes and boxes of tools and bottling jars, newspaper and pottery, there's a swing set, a fallen down cubby, surfboards by the dam, rusty bikes, a Beetle filled with kids books, a windmill in pieces, a potters wheel, a giant ants nest. They are in the thick of making sense of the wonder and jumble of it all, getting the solar power, the generator and the pump for the dam all working, and getting the first garden built felt like a big achievement for the settling in effort!
While we dug and made edges, we also talked all day, off and on, about the baby collective. Helen is so eloquent when she talks about why she thinks that it is a wonderful thing for us to all be doing together. I didn't know before today that she'd thought about it from so many angles, and with such generosity towards all of the different perspectives. She makes me feel safe, and overtaken by such a sense of trust and love and overwhelming good fortune instead of the usual worry and fuss. And it is overwhelming - there is so much love and goodwill being extended for a child who doesn't even exist yet, and in every hidey-hole, magical bit of junk and little animal track into the tall grass all I can see is the joy of summer holidays together here and that feels like such a richness it is completely unbelievable too.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Dad visit
Really, really hot.
Mum always grizzles when Dad talks about us having kids in case we see it as having the pressure put on us, but I like it. It makes me feel all warm and loved up.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
The Plan
Hot - again. The house just isn't cooling down anymore... But Riss has a pool and we have a key!
So, another super positive post... (I just read over the last one and realised what a ramble that was about the joy of hormones... but, oh well... it really does make me happy!)
I wanted to write about how much love and excitement and happiness we get when we tell people about the prospective baby making. The joy it seems to being people is so lovely... and quite a bit flattering. It's a pretty big compliment that people think its a good idea for us to make a whole new person! Joey's cousin (most recently) and Steph (most ongoingly) are especially generous with their excitement and happiness. It's such a nice feeling, and although I'm sure we will get a few funny comments at some point, this seems to be the nicest start we could hope for.
I am also flattered (and surprised!) by how interested people are by HOW it's all going to work. I never thought that other people would be so interested in us and sperm and precisely how we are thinking Joey will fit in after the baby is born. But it's good... the more I've explained it, the less I feel like the awkwardness of the whole thing is totally insurmountable.
So, this is what we are going to do. Joey and Helen live a good seven hours drive away, so first and foremost, there is going to be a lot of travel involved - unless we get pregnant really quickly (but I'm not silly enough to count on it). I think we will share the travel, sometimes going there, sometimes them coming here. We've considered adding some trashiness to the whole thing by splitting the drive and getting a highway motel at the halfway mark. Imagine... 1970s decor.
The travel will be tricky to schedule because I can't plan to ovulate on a weekend but on the months I go there it'll just have to mean taking a couple of sick days which I'm finally starting to accumulate now that I don't catch every bug the kids bring to school.
Then, Joey will hand over the sperm and I'll put it in the right place with a medicine syringe. God knows how exactly we'll do the handover. That's the most awkward part. I honestly can't visualise that bit yet.
After that, it's all exactly the same process as usual, just wait with all your fingers crossed. Apparently there is no disadvantage to doing it with a syringe in terms of your chances, the little guys don't care about their little time in the jar and they are happy to swim regardless of how they get put in place. One thing to know: I've never seen sperm before in my life.
Then... A baby! Hooray! Anyway, thanks everyone for all you good vibes - it makes me feel pretty special!
K.
So, another super positive post... (I just read over the last one and realised what a ramble that was about the joy of hormones... but, oh well... it really does make me happy!)
I wanted to write about how much love and excitement and happiness we get when we tell people about the prospective baby making. The joy it seems to being people is so lovely... and quite a bit flattering. It's a pretty big compliment that people think its a good idea for us to make a whole new person! Joey's cousin (most recently) and Steph (most ongoingly) are especially generous with their excitement and happiness. It's such a nice feeling, and although I'm sure we will get a few funny comments at some point, this seems to be the nicest start we could hope for.
I am also flattered (and surprised!) by how interested people are by HOW it's all going to work. I never thought that other people would be so interested in us and sperm and precisely how we are thinking Joey will fit in after the baby is born. But it's good... the more I've explained it, the less I feel like the awkwardness of the whole thing is totally insurmountable.
So, this is what we are going to do. Joey and Helen live a good seven hours drive away, so first and foremost, there is going to be a lot of travel involved - unless we get pregnant really quickly (but I'm not silly enough to count on it). I think we will share the travel, sometimes going there, sometimes them coming here. We've considered adding some trashiness to the whole thing by splitting the drive and getting a highway motel at the halfway mark. Imagine... 1970s decor.
The travel will be tricky to schedule because I can't plan to ovulate on a weekend but on the months I go there it'll just have to mean taking a couple of sick days which I'm finally starting to accumulate now that I don't catch every bug the kids bring to school.
Then, Joey will hand over the sperm and I'll put it in the right place with a medicine syringe. God knows how exactly we'll do the handover. That's the most awkward part. I honestly can't visualise that bit yet.
After that, it's all exactly the same process as usual, just wait with all your fingers crossed. Apparently there is no disadvantage to doing it with a syringe in terms of your chances, the little guys don't care about their little time in the jar and they are happy to swim regardless of how they get put in place. One thing to know: I've never seen sperm before in my life.
Then... A baby! Hooray! Anyway, thanks everyone for all you good vibes - it makes me feel pretty special!
K.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Mid-cycle happy
The weather is hot and oppressive feeling. One of my lovely boys at school told me that there was going to be a thunderstorm tonight, he seemed very excited about it. We were watching the ants together, swarming the handball squares in that funny thunderstorm way.
I am pretty much bang in the middle of my cycle and, as usual, feeling ridiculously pleased with myself and amazed at how effortless and robust the hormonal shifts and balances are that happen each month. I am so excited every time to see all the signs of fertility magically unfolding and coming together - it makes me think of acrobatics, or dance, that same sense of swooping glorious timing. I remember feeling exactly the same way when I got my period properly after I started eating again at 18, so pleased to find that my body knew what it was doing despite everything I'd put myself through. What a cool thing to have, this magic cycle happily playing out in my body as I just go about my week!
This would be a good cycle to get pregnant in, if we were trying yet... Ovulation on a weekend is far more convenient than midweek for the 7 hour trip we're going to be doing each time!
I am pretty much bang in the middle of my cycle and, as usual, feeling ridiculously pleased with myself and amazed at how effortless and robust the hormonal shifts and balances are that happen each month. I am so excited every time to see all the signs of fertility magically unfolding and coming together - it makes me think of acrobatics, or dance, that same sense of swooping glorious timing. I remember feeling exactly the same way when I got my period properly after I started eating again at 18, so pleased to find that my body knew what it was doing despite everything I'd put myself through. What a cool thing to have, this magic cycle happily playing out in my body as I just go about my week!
This would be a good cycle to get pregnant in, if we were trying yet... Ovulation on a weekend is far more convenient than midweek for the 7 hour trip we're going to be doing each time!
Friday, February 1, 2013
Back to school
Day one, Prep 2013! Cool and blustery, with a sunny time in the middle of the day.
First day of Prep was a success, only tears from one child (I'm not sure how the parents went, the Assistant Principal bundled them out once we'd got the kids in and singing Wheels on the Bus) and everyone seemed to have a good time! Five year olds are lovely, lovely creatures, I felt pretty lucky to have my job today, when they asked questions with such serious little faces, or cracked themselves up laughing when they were jumping from square to square on our carpet.
Recently an Australia Party hopeful in Victoria went public with this: "Paedophiles will be next in line to be recognised in the same way as gays and lesbians and get rights... I don't want gays, lesbians to be working in my kindergarten. If you don't like it go to another kindergarten...". Ouch! Welcome back to school everyone!
Thankfully for my injured feelings the paper published this in an opinion piece a couple of days later: "Christ almighty it must be frightening to be homophobic. I have my own issues with anxiety, so I can sympathise with the persistent and inexplicable sense of impending doom that must plague these people. But even with this insight, I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to hold a worldview in which the gays are forever lurking in a corner, waiting for the opportunity to explode our traditional way of life in a cloud of glitter and amyl before snaffling away our kids like the Pied Piper and marching them over some kind of horrible gay cliff. Being dogged by such thoughts must be utterly exhausting." Ha!
Xox, the lesbian kindergarten teacher.
First day of Prep was a success, only tears from one child (I'm not sure how the parents went, the Assistant Principal bundled them out once we'd got the kids in and singing Wheels on the Bus) and everyone seemed to have a good time! Five year olds are lovely, lovely creatures, I felt pretty lucky to have my job today, when they asked questions with such serious little faces, or cracked themselves up laughing when they were jumping from square to square on our carpet.
Recently an Australia Party hopeful in Victoria went public with this: "Paedophiles will be next in line to be recognised in the same way as gays and lesbians and get rights... I don't want gays, lesbians to be working in my kindergarten. If you don't like it go to another kindergarten...". Ouch! Welcome back to school everyone!
Thankfully for my injured feelings the paper published this in an opinion piece a couple of days later: "Christ almighty it must be frightening to be homophobic. I have my own issues with anxiety, so I can sympathise with the persistent and inexplicable sense of impending doom that must plague these people. But even with this insight, I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to hold a worldview in which the gays are forever lurking in a corner, waiting for the opportunity to explode our traditional way of life in a cloud of glitter and amyl before snaffling away our kids like the Pied Piper and marching them over some kind of horrible gay cliff. Being dogged by such thoughts must be utterly exhausting." Ha!
Xox, the lesbian kindergarten teacher.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Testing...
Sunny and bright.
I rang an IVF place today to check if we can get a semen analysis without somehow getting mixed up in any other kind of process (I was a bit scared that I'd be booked in for IVF before I'd got past hello) and the nice lady on the phone made my day by being super excited for us that we had Joey for the baby making. But she did also suggest an AMH test for me (checks how many eggs you likely have left) which I'd never heard of and found out I also don't need in all likelihood. I could hear Mum in my head - "unnecessary intervention!" This must be how it begins - before you even get started on making the baby. Well, I'm watching out for it Mum!
I rang an IVF place today to check if we can get a semen analysis without somehow getting mixed up in any other kind of process (I was a bit scared that I'd be booked in for IVF before I'd got past hello) and the nice lady on the phone made my day by being super excited for us that we had Joey for the baby making. But she did also suggest an AMH test for me (checks how many eggs you likely have left) which I'd never heard of and found out I also don't need in all likelihood. I could hear Mum in my head - "unnecessary intervention!" This must be how it begins - before you even get started on making the baby. Well, I'm watching out for it Mum!
Monday, January 21, 2013
Why blog?
11pm, dark, cool and quiet.
I am driving myself crazy with one track thinking... babies babies babies... I am honestly looking forward to being back at work partly for the distraction. This can't be normal!
So, why blog? A little bit of wanting to keep a record. A little bit of wanting to share the excitement (with who, I'm not sure!). A little bit of mental space to work things out. A little bit because in all the hundreds of other lesbian-mum blogs there are so few, it seems, who have known donors and who go the turkey baster way. (Why is that?) I love the IVF stories for what they teach me about patience and resilience, but I'd also love the gossip on other people's versions of handing over the sperm in our very own living room, and making a baby that will tangle up the four of us in such an enormous and unknowable way.
I am driving myself crazy with one track thinking... babies babies babies... I am honestly looking forward to being back at work partly for the distraction. This can't be normal!
So, why blog? A little bit of wanting to keep a record. A little bit of wanting to share the excitement (with who, I'm not sure!). A little bit of mental space to work things out. A little bit because in all the hundreds of other lesbian-mum blogs there are so few, it seems, who have known donors and who go the turkey baster way. (Why is that?) I love the IVF stories for what they teach me about patience and resilience, but I'd also love the gossip on other people's versions of handing over the sperm in our very own living room, and making a baby that will tangle up the four of us in such an enormous and unknowable way.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Traveling
Parkes, NSW. Hot, hot, hot. Hot in the shade and mindbogglingly hot in the sun.
Today is our third day of camping with Joey and Helen on the way home from Brisbane to Melbourne, and it's really, really hot. After I had a minor melt down yesterday at the tail end of the hottest part of the day (can't use the air conditioning because it heats up the engine alarmingly and we are packed in tight with walls of bags on all sides) Hollie and Helen came up with a ratings system for identifying levels of heat stress, from hot and sticky to completely hysterical. I'm on the lower end of hysterical, heat-wise, but feeling more relaxed today regardless, the worries I've been turning over since we all got on the road together are less compelling than the last few days.
I've been worrying about how I seem to Joey and Helen, whether I seem healthy, happy, emotionally normal, sufficiently resilient, creative and interesting enough to be worthy enough to carry and raise a baby. I've been worrying about how to arrange the practicalities of donation, how Hollie and Helen will feel on the day, how to bring up sperm analysis and testing. I've been worrying about stealing Helen's right to first-born baby. I've been worrying about whether I come across as profoundly grateful as I feel and whether I talk about the baby making too often, and whether I sound flippant or ridiculous when I do, and whether I'll have to seem confident and on top of things all the time.
Despite the heat and the worries, though, the country is spectacular and incredibly varied as we work our way down the inland road, and we have swum in beautiful rivers the whole way. It's hard to stay worried in the relief of cool, deep river water! Only two more hours in the car until the next one!
Today is our third day of camping with Joey and Helen on the way home from Brisbane to Melbourne, and it's really, really hot. After I had a minor melt down yesterday at the tail end of the hottest part of the day (can't use the air conditioning because it heats up the engine alarmingly and we are packed in tight with walls of bags on all sides) Hollie and Helen came up with a ratings system for identifying levels of heat stress, from hot and sticky to completely hysterical. I'm on the lower end of hysterical, heat-wise, but feeling more relaxed today regardless, the worries I've been turning over since we all got on the road together are less compelling than the last few days.
I've been worrying about how I seem to Joey and Helen, whether I seem healthy, happy, emotionally normal, sufficiently resilient, creative and interesting enough to be worthy enough to carry and raise a baby. I've been worrying about how to arrange the practicalities of donation, how Hollie and Helen will feel on the day, how to bring up sperm analysis and testing. I've been worrying about stealing Helen's right to first-born baby. I've been worrying about whether I come across as profoundly grateful as I feel and whether I talk about the baby making too often, and whether I sound flippant or ridiculous when I do, and whether I'll have to seem confident and on top of things all the time.
Despite the heat and the worries, though, the country is spectacular and incredibly varied as we work our way down the inland road, and we have swum in beautiful rivers the whole way. It's hard to stay worried in the relief of cool, deep river water! Only two more hours in the car until the next one!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
New Year
New Year's Day, Woodford Folk Festival. Hot in the sun, with a glorious breeze and just the tiniest shower as the sun set.
Today I walked up the hill with Joey and Helen to watch the sun rise. Most people were still pretty messy from the night before, and I think a lot had seen the night right through to sunrise, but being Woodford it was sweet and special. Even though we all know the sun does it every morning, it felt momentous when it stained the whole sky pink and then broke up above the horizon and through the clouds. It felt momentous for me because this is the year I'd like to try to make a baby. A baby with Hollie. And Joey. And Helen. The Baby Collective! Happy, happy New Year!
Today I walked up the hill with Joey and Helen to watch the sun rise. Most people were still pretty messy from the night before, and I think a lot had seen the night right through to sunrise, but being Woodford it was sweet and special. Even though we all know the sun does it every morning, it felt momentous when it stained the whole sky pink and then broke up above the horizon and through the clouds. It felt momentous for me because this is the year I'd like to try to make a baby. A baby with Hollie. And Joey. And Helen. The Baby Collective! Happy, happy New Year!
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