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.

Thank YOU #146

On a whim, I looked at our sperm bank's website and saw that our donor had been moved into Limited Supply. Limited Supply??? We haven't even started yet! He can't be downgraded, we still need his supply! Yes, we own some vials already, but I'm not convinced that it's enough. Now that he's been downgraded, I'm even more convinced! Limited apparently means that he's no longer actively donating his, um, stuff, but they still have some on hand. Phew.

To cover all the bases, I looked at the active section and saw that there are now not only 1, but 2, count 'em, 2 other donors with a similar profile to our guy. I had worried about that, since sometimes the stuff just isn't compatible and people end up switching donors. Until #146 came along, we had nobody to switch to. But now, we have 2 backups and an incoming tax return that will let me stockpile a little more of Our Guy's stuff.

Phew. Crisis averted.

I Had This Dream

Last night, I dreamt about the baby for the first time. At this point, I've had many half-dreams involving thermometers, tamagochis and the wonders of charting while half-asleep, but not one about an actual, living, baby here in my home.

In this dream, my labor lasted all of 30 minutes, was painless, somehow was at home (the closest I'll ever come to a home birth will be if I'm crowning in the back of the car on the way to the hospital) and at the end, produced a very cute little boy who couldn't stop shitting on my bedspread. Naturally, I don't remember what we'd named him, though I do recall some degree of dissatisfaction with it, and my mom wasn't there. When I called to tell her about the not-greatly-named little one, she was distant and made some weird comment about how lame the name was.

But he was 1. a he, 2. he was beautiful and 3. he was ours. And I was pretty fucking happy. C'mon, ye little shitter, get here already.

Thanks, and Oops!

For my birthday, Andrea got me a replacement thermometer. I know, it's as exciting as it gets but if $12.99 can give me that level of calmness and quiet joy, you'd buy one for me, too.

So this morning, my alarm goes off at 7, like usual. Only something doesn't go right in my brain and I convince myself that I'd taken my temp earlier somehow, like when I was sleeping. I also convinced myself that I'd looked at the wonderfully back-lit device to confirm this. So I turned off the alarm and went back to sleep, only to wake up 2 hours later, knowing full well that I am just THAT tired.

No temp today.

How Deciding To Become Parents Has Changed Me

When Andrea asked me what I want for my birthday, I told her "a new Basal Thermometer, just like the old, good one I managed to break while we were on vacation."

Not diamonds (that was Christmas, thanks honey!) or a trip to aruba. Just a $12.99 pink thermometer that will let both of us sleep better than the current crapass Walgreen's model that we had to buy in a hurry because I broke the old one. Sigh.

Trying? That's Not Trying!

Lately, we've talked to a couple of friends who are 'trying' to get pregnant, one who has just succeeded after months of this 'trying' of which she spoke. When I asked if she charted or anything, she said no, they just guessed.

Guessed? Guessing is not trying. It's people with sperm in the relationship having birth-control free sex. There is a difference.

I tried not to sound bitter as I mentioned the much-coveted 5 day window of opportunity fresh sperm provides. Not that I want sperm in our relationship, I just want to have fun in the 'trying'. Oh well. We'll take our 12 hour window of opportunity and we'll get knocked up anyway.

Does the World Really Need This?

A stroller WITH A MOTOR? Really?

I'm all for getting fancypants baby items, there's no hiding the fact that we're not afraid to buy top of the line items now, but a motor? Nope, that is simply Not Necessary.

Vitamin, Stay Put!

I resumed taking the Evil Prenatal Vitamins last night, taking Jen's advice (not at all to be confused with Assvice, which is a whole other category) and cutting one in half. Even though it hurt like crazy going down (they don't have that handy line down the middle, for easy splittage and there was this open raw side that scraped all the way down), it did NOT, I repeat, did NOT make me nauseous.

At lunch today, I had another one, this time a whole one and so far, so good. But I've been here before with these, a day or two of okay-ness and then Vitamin Hell so I'm not that optimistic. But I'll let you know either way.

And in other news, per Red's suggestion, I have renamed the Magic Egg Prediction Machine 'tamagochi.'

Vitamin Fear

It's been a week since I've taken my vitamins. I admit it: I'm scared. Not eager to repeat the way I felt last week, I'm avoiding them like you'd avoid your ex if you saw her unexpectedly at Costco. Instead, I've been taking the separate folic acid supplements. I will work my way back to the big pills, probably a different brand, soon. I swear.

Of course I'm sure that taking a whole week off will guarantee me a baby with all kinds of issues, a baby who one day will wag his/her little finger at me and say "Mom, you should have sucked it up, you selfish bitch."

Thermometer Crisis

For our travels this weekend, I dutifully packed my Basal Body Temp Thermometer, something that's quickly become my good friend. Each morning at 7 am, we bond, me listening to the steady beeping that leads to a reading, then getting up to possibly pee on a stick.

Saturday night, I noticed what looked like some crusty goo on the sensor end. I scraped off the goo and didn't think twice about it. My little pink friend was tough, a little goo scraping shouldn't have an impact.

Ha! Sunday morning, I awoke, turned it on and waited for the steady beeps. Nada. No beepage. I tried again like 3 times, but no dice. The initial beep, yes, but no proceeding steady beepage. It's dead, Jim.

Late last night we found ourselves first at Safeway, where I'm pretty sure the stockguy thought we were asking about a Basil thermometer and was wondering why you'd need that. No luck, so it was off to our corner Walgreen's, open 24 hours for your convenience and a hotbed of activity at any hour. They did have one, but it was the Walgreen's brand. It doesn't balance in my mouth as well, and it doesn't have the steady beep, just the beep at the end.

Let me assure you that if you're more than 1/2 asleep and you use that thing, the second beep can scare your temperature into rising in a heartbeep when it erupts from the silence that has lulled you almost back to sleep, despite the ill-balanced medical device in your mouth.

Sheesh. Stupid Walgreen's. Stupid me. Stupid goo.

We Have Eggs!

Woo!! Despite being incredibly sick yesterday (thanks, no doubt to the home-cooked dishes that the international students brought to class Monday night and helped by the prenatal vitamins) I managed to ovulate! We have proof that this might actually work! I confirmed this later in the day by peeing on the considerably more user-friendly stick in the Ovulation Predictor Kit. Two lines! Woo!

I sent this picture to everyone I could think of yesterday and couldn't wait to share it here. Today, the Magic Egg Prediction Machine is giving me a bonus day of high fertility. The little book (that I've read no less than 1,000 times) says that it's okay to have sex today, too, just in case.

Um, thanks, but we're gay. We could have sex 1,000 times and I don't think any one of them would take adequate advantage of this Peak Fertility. I'm willing to try, though.

I cannot adequately describe how relieved this makes me. I was stressing about that 12 hour window of opportunity so much, it was making my eggs shy. But this month, I've been more calm about it, just telling myself that all the charting and peeing on sticks I'm doing is just something we do.