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

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!

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!)

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.

Dad visit

Really, really hot.

We are not quite sure why, but the cat is losing a lot of fur at the moment. He is baldish on his back legs, pretty much entirely bald on his tummy and looking very patchy all over the rest of him. His elbows are pretty bare too. I think he is licking it off in some kind of psycho cat version of OCD and Doctor Google says that that is definitely a possibility and that although it's not life threatening, in worst case scenario he will end up bald all over with a furry head (because he can't lick his face fur off). Dreadful!! Obviously, I'm a bit worried about him and also pretty cranky about the possibility that I am going to have to put my cat on anti depressants, which is apparently the usual route. Dad said, with a cheery glint in his eyes: "you know what the answer is, you guys just need to get on with having the baby! You'll worry far less about a cat once a baby is around!"

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.