Assvice Bingo

This piece of brilliance must be shared.

Granted, to date, I've only had a smattering of assvice, less so recently since we've pretty much stopped talking about the Great Babymaking Adventure, but I am steeling myself for the flurry of comments that will no doubt be hurled away.

But of course, preventing that flurry, or at least staving it off (1-2-3) is part of the reason we've entered Radio Silence about what's really going on. Explaining your plans over and over again starts to seem like more than should be shared with the general public.

It's such a fine line, I admit. I know lesbians and those who we suspect are lesbians are appearing with children all over the place and many of my sapphic systers will have you beleive those babies just fell from the sky, directly into their wombs or their rooms, but I assure you, that's not true. Mucho planningo goes into many of these babies and I feel some weird sense of duty to share the specifics of the process so people can know how it works. Since we've all had fifth grade health class and everyone knows how IT works for the other 90% of the world (or at least, how it's supposed to work).

But now that those generalities are becoming my reality, I no longer want to share.

Now Entering Radio Silence

Ooh. It's almost that time -- time to start the Great Babymaking Adventure of 2005. Given that approaching window, we've decided to not post the trials and tribulations of babymaking until it's well past the window where Something Heartbreaking Could Happen.

I'll probably write all about it, but you won't see it here until that window has passed.

When Was The Date...?

I've often wondered about the mythical connection between any doctor, any type of doctor visit and the question, "when was your last period?" I mean, sure the ob/gyn can ask, but the dermatologist? The internist? I'm here for a concussion, not an intimate moment with you and my parts!

For years, I didn't really know, didn't need to know. But last time I rolled in with my chart (since I'd worked so hard on it) and stunned them with a date, then got their puzzled looks when they asked about birth control.

Finally, I pulled the trump card: I've been with my female partner for 9 years. We've been having unprotected sex this WHOLE TIME and I'm still not pregnant. What's wrong with me?

If I was a better actress I would've busted out crying then. But I'm not, so I just waited for her to laugh.

(I stole this from myself, who first posted it at Fertility Now!)

Gun Shy

We're supposed to start trying in just 2 months. 2 months until I have to stop playing as much hockey as I do, 2 months until our lives start to change completely. 2 months until we embark on a journey that will make it clear to the world, not just to other dog parents, that we are parents to more than just 4 wonderful dogs, but to a human person as well.

It's also 2 months until I cna't play hockey as much as I do now, eventually I won't be able to play at all (yes, I plan to play as much as I feel up to, in the more 'friendly' leagues where I play. Yes, I've discussed this with my doctor, yes, comments from the Internet peanut gallery on this topic will be filed under Assvice). And that's the thing. As much as I love the idea of being a mom, I'm not quite sure I'm ready to give up my hockey-focused life just yet.

But as Ellen, mom of a lovely 8 year old boy, says, there's never a good time. But it's always the right time. I just need to remind myself of that.

Our friends delivered their baby on April 4. They're not unlike us -- together for about 9 years, adamant in planning their baby's conception and arrival, obviously very in love with each other and their baby. All well and good except that baby Delilah was born with a subdural hematoma and a malformed brain. She's not expected to survive, this well-planned baby born to moms who did everything right along the way.

I think more than not being ready to give up our life as we know it, my sudden hesitation comes from thinking if it could happen to our friends, it could happen to us.

Learning From Mom

Since we've started this journey, I've learned many things about my mom and her own (lack of) fertility. For one, she charted, or at least took her temp when she was first married. She's never spoken of how disappointing it was that she couldn't give birth, or as far as I know, get pregnant. I can only imagine the heartache that caused back then and even though I'm pretty fabulous, am I, in the end, just a replacement for the bouncing biological child she felt she was supposed to have?

She also hates the fact that I'm called Liz. She meant me to be an Elizabeth, or anything but Liz. To that I say, tough. Choice is the basis of free will. By giving me a long name with a myriad of options, inherent in that is the risk that I'll pick the one you don't like. Ironically, they were either going to name me Elizabeth or Catherine, which turned out to be my birth mom's name. Well, I guess it was her name all along but I didn't know until I was 24.

I can only imagine how many other things she's feeling now, as we prepare to try and do what she couldn't -- get pregnant and give birth to a child that is genetically ours. Well, mine, but as far as I'm concerned, ours. I suspect that some of those feelings, whatever they may be, are why she's so damn irritable with me right now. Sigh.

An inherent piece of having grown up Catholic is the sneaking suspicion that sometimes, you just can't do the right thing.

The Option That's Not An Option

It seems that the only reason I use the internet anymore is to read about other people who are having babies, trying to have babies or adopting babies. Tonight, I found these really amazing and sweet photos of a family who picked up their daughter in China.

Long ago, before we began the exciting world of charting and tamagochi useage, we had this faraway idea of travelling halfway around the world to China to adopt a baby of our own, returning home with a little girl in tow, ready to show her a better life in America. I say better life in America not because I think for a moment that adoption automatically equals a better life. That's just not true. But for my dream Chinese baby, it would be a better, or at least, more promising life. I've been to China, I've seen how dark it is, how little hope there is for little girls and I'd love nothing more than to create our family that way, even though I'm really quite frugal and the thought of blowing that much cash to create a family makes my palms sweat. I love the idea of bringing home a girl who may already speak a little and having her other Mommy know how to talk to her. We would travel, Andrea's mom would help us negotiate the government and the challenge of getting a taxi or a decent dinner on our trip. I still love that idea but it's not meant to be.

Why? Because we're gay. The Chinese government has gone to great lengths to ensure that nice gay couples, even half-Chinese gay couples can't do that. So we're making Murray from scratch, we'll still have our half-Chinese baby but it will be in a different way than my dream.

But that's where this all starts, right? With reality that end up a bit different than dreams, yet just as wonderful and amazing. I just try not to think about those little girls over there in China who we won't be bringing home.

Why I'm Not Excited About Breastfeeding

It's true. I'm not. There are plenty of mothers out there who adore whipping out the boob and being a food source for their babies. I'm not anticipating being one of them. I grew up eating formula and other than a lifelong stomach problem that I only now can mostly control, I'm fine. So I don't see the point, but everything I've read and everything Andrea's read and more than everything Susan and Jennie have read say it's "the right thing to do," so I intend to try it.

But I really doubt it will last. Discovering products like this and hints like that just make me cringe. And they make Andrea say "top sending me these nasty urls" as if I've just sent her kiddie porn or pictures of dead fish.