Nameless Peanut. That is what we are calling our baby. Nameless Peanut Bailey. We don't know what we are having yet, we can't agree on a name and at last look our little fetus resembled a peanut. So there ya go...
We were 9 weeks and three days pregnant when we met our midwife for the first time. We thought we would get to hear the heartbeat but couldn't so she let us look at NPB instead. We sat in the ultrasound room waiting on our midwife (who is ABSOLUTELY amazing by the way) and were talking and laughing. The midwife came in and we started looking for NPB and there he/she was! Moving around like he/she was doing the Cha Cha Slide and posing for the ultrasound camera.
I looked at Lisa and was reminded how much my life had changed in the last three years. I was reminded with every laugh how blessed I am to have found who I believe to be my souls mate and how incredibly lucky we both are to be experiencing this together. I thought of our friends and family and realized how deeply loved this child will be. I thought of Allyssa and how I would have loved to have had an older sister who will be as great as she will be! I thought of our parents and know that even though they sometimes struggle with our family make up, they'll continue to be the most terrific grandparents a child could ask for. I thought about our house, our cars and our neighborhood. I thought about how much we have to offer this child and how much this child will have to offer us. As the midwife printed off our picture and turned off the ultrasound machine I thought about how in love we are with our little peanut and he / she doesn't even have a name yet!
All is well in pregnancy land.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Pregnant...Again.
So… I’m pregnant. Again. I haven’t been pregnant in almost seventeen years, but this time I’m pregnant on purpose. If you are a reader of my blog or just a friend, you probably know about my first pregnancy so I won’t bore you again with all the details, but will update new readers on the basic facts: I was a relatively responsible teenager, on birth control pills, even took them every day, had sex three times and was pregnant at seventeen. It was shocking, difficult and frightening at times – but sixteen years later I have an incredibly amazing daughter to show for it. There are several past blogs with details about how great she is if you’re interested.
So here I am again… Much older, I hope to be much wiser and 8 weeks pregnant. (By the time you read this blog I am more likely to be 12-14 weeks pregnant.)
So here I am again… Much older, I hope to be much wiser and 8 weeks pregnant. (By the time you read this blog I am more likely to be 12-14 weeks pregnant.)
It is absolutely mind-boggling how things change in seventeen years! I was speaking to my friend Cerena on the phone last night. She gave birth to her first daughter the day after I gave birth to mine. A few years later she had a son and ten years after that she had another son and now has an additional daughter who is two. We discussed how different our grown up pregnancies were from our teen pregnancies. When I was pregnant with Allyssa I had zero fear of anything other than gaining weight and my skin breaking out. I didn’t fear miscarriage, genetic disorders or SIDS. I didn’t obsess over the size of my fetus, my HcG levels, how fast or slow the heart rate was and whether or not I should eat certain cheeses. With the Internet and age, I’ve learned to obsess (rather well, I might add) about all those things and more. I have visited more pregnancy web sites than I ever would have imagined existed. I have read about the baby’s development from week 4 to week 40 more times than I can count and have the “How Big Is My Baby” chart memorized. For the record, Baby Bailey is about the size of a grape this week! When I was pregnant with my daughter, I threw up daily from week 7 to week 18. When I reached week seven of this pregnancy and wasn’t sick, I was instantly worried (not relieved) that something must be wrong. With every ache, cramp and twinge, I am certain that something could be going wrong and on most occasions I’ll spontaneously burst out in tears.
This brings me to hormones…. When I was pregnant at seventeen, I didn’t notice any changes to my body – other than my jeans were too tight and that throwing up thing. I didn’t recognize the difference in my emotions; I was a seventeen year old girl, I was probably already moody. At 35, things are very different. For instance, Braves player Jeff Francoeur was traded to the Mets last week. The Mets played the Braves at home last night and when Francoeur came up to bat, the Atlanta crowd gave him a standing ovation and the pitcher stepped off the mound to give him a few seconds to take everything in. I wasn’t at the game, didn’t even watch it on TV. I am a Braves fan and I guess Jeff Francoeur is a good guy but don’t know for sure. However, when I heard the sports news on the radio and heard the DJ talk about the crowd and the standing ovation. I literally cried. AND I recognized that it was ridiculous – which I think might make me even crazier! I cry over my Pastors blogs, I cry over movies, television shows and commercials. I cried yesterday after my conversation with Cerena and she told me she loved it that her last two didn’t sleep all night because she wanted to have more time with them. I’ve turned into my own water source!
Other than the obsessing, crying and the need for an 8:00 pm bedtime… my pregnancy is going great and we can’t wait for the next 32 weeks!
This brings me to hormones…. When I was pregnant at seventeen, I didn’t notice any changes to my body – other than my jeans were too tight and that throwing up thing. I didn’t recognize the difference in my emotions; I was a seventeen year old girl, I was probably already moody. At 35, things are very different. For instance, Braves player Jeff Francoeur was traded to the Mets last week. The Mets played the Braves at home last night and when Francoeur came up to bat, the Atlanta crowd gave him a standing ovation and the pitcher stepped off the mound to give him a few seconds to take everything in. I wasn’t at the game, didn’t even watch it on TV. I am a Braves fan and I guess Jeff Francoeur is a good guy but don’t know for sure. However, when I heard the sports news on the radio and heard the DJ talk about the crowd and the standing ovation. I literally cried. AND I recognized that it was ridiculous – which I think might make me even crazier! I cry over my Pastors blogs, I cry over movies, television shows and commercials. I cried yesterday after my conversation with Cerena and she told me she loved it that her last two didn’t sleep all night because she wanted to have more time with them. I’ve turned into my own water source!
Other than the obsessing, crying and the need for an 8:00 pm bedtime… my pregnancy is going great and we can’t wait for the next 32 weeks!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Moving on to Plan B
So we've had three more fertility cycles since my last post (Soooooo???? February 2009) my intention was to write and write until I couldn't write anymore and document the entire process. However, the failed cycles cut a lot deeper than I ever thought they would and I was simply tired of talking about it. So I stopped.
We started our Journey To Baby Bailey in May of 2008, so EVERY MONTH for over a year I've been poked, prodded and / or peed on a stick to check my ovulation and in three of the cycles to check for pregnancy and frankly - I was over it. I thought when we started this we would try until we got pregnant. SEVERAL thousand dollars later and countless hours of tears, I was done. I thought I was stronger but I just didn't have it in me.
I went through all of the emotions and with each failed cycle it got worse. I looked around at countless children who are not adequately cared for by their parents and wondered how someone like that could have not one... but two... or three or more children but we couldn't manage to get one. I heard the good news of friends and family members who were adding to their families and wondered why it seemed so easy for the rest of the world but it wasn't happening for us?
After the third failed cycle, I admitted defeat and we talked about ending our fertility treatments. We talked about money, we talked about the emotional aspect and we talked about regret. At that point we decided to give it one more try. I knew for the sake of my amazing family, I should try one more time. We had enough room in the budget for one more round and I felt like Lisa deserved that. I have a child and know that there is nothing better (to me) than being that child's mom but Lisa didn't know what that was like. I felt like I owed it to her, myself and our family to try again... and we did.
I spent the week of the pending insemination irritated and almost angry. I was angry at the money we had spent. I was angry at the results and I was angry that almost a year of my life had been lost to failed fertility treatment. The day of the insemination (one of two – since our doctor inseminates twice per ovulation) I waited in the doctors office and was looking around with the understanding that this would be one of the last times I sat in this office for this procedure. I was relieved. When I was called back and the doctor came in she said, “It’s good to see you.” I said, “It’s good to see you too, but I’m really getting tired of hanging out with you people.” She laughed. I told her I was on my way to Six Flags that morning when I got the Smiley Face indicating ovulation and asked her if it was okay to go forward with our day as planned. She said yes… and we completed the procedure in silence. I was bored. I didn’t lie there staring at the ceiling like before with visions of chubby faced babies and pacifiers running through my head. I stared at the ceiling tiles and wondered how long the line to Superman would be when we finally got to Six Flags. My mind and heart had clearly moved on. It was then I made the decision to move on to Plan B.
Plan B is what a lot of 35 year olds dream of. It’s having raised your child, sent her off to college, having no bills except the mortgage and vacationing at very cool places a couple of times a year with NO KIDS, all before the ripe old age of thirty-six! It's moving in town because you don't care what school district you live in, it's driving a two-door, staying up late and sleeping in until noon. It’s eating where you want and not wondering if the restaurant has a kids menu or a high chair. It’s laughing on the inside when your friends with infants can’t hang out past eleven because the babysitter has a curfew. It’s long motorcycle rides and overnight trips to nowhere, for no reason. It’s wearing your “good” clothes because you know they won’t get spit up on and it’s having a family, a career and a savings account and never again having to clean up a toddlers vomit. The more I thought about Plan B, the more I was getting used to it. If we couldn’t have another child we might as well be young enough to enjoy our empty nest! Separately, if my wonderfully amazing daughter follows the plan I have in mind for her – she’d still make me a Grandma before I hit fifty and I’ve heard that is an even better alternative. You can send those kids home! Yes, I had decided... Plan B was a good way to go.
I finished the first week following insemination and truthfully never really thought of it again. We talked about the new car we were going to be buying now that our sixteen year old had taken over the family sedan and decided where we would go on Allyssa’s graduation cruise. I went to work and shared with the one co-worker and friend who knew we had gone ahead with the fourth and final try that I truly had gotten over it. I was very ready for another negative pregnancy test so that I could move on with my life, so that I could get busy on Plan B! I even continued to use the Espresso machine that I got for Mother’s Day and had adjusted (rather excitedly) to the fact that I will never in my life have to change a diaper unless I just want to. The second week I could feel the elation in knowing that on Monday, June 15th (the day after we got confirmation from the fertility clinic that we were once again negative) my life would continue on, KNOWING not WONDERING that we would continue to be blessed with the one and only child that we already have.
Friday, June 12th at 4:30 AM I got up to get ready for work. I walked into the bathroom and looked at the pregnancy tests staring at me from the cabinet. I decided to take one since we were having dinner with friends the next day and I was more than happy to be able to indulge in a margarita… or three. In less than five minutes, Plan B went out the window with one word…. “Pregnant.” I picked up the Clear Blue Easy and looked at it again. I stared at it for what felt like an hour but I am sure was less than a minute. My eyes filled with tears and I went and woke Lisa with the news. I was physically shaking when I told her and we both agreed that it was a very bizarre feeling to be so completely surprised to be pregnant when we had been trying so hard to become that way.
So… Plan B has now reverted back to what THIS particular 35 year old is now dreaming of. Morning sickness, weight gain, out of control emotions and child birth. Late nights, early mornings, diapers, spit up and sneakers instead of four inch heels. An SUV instead of a two-door and a nursery instead of an office. Chubby cheeks, toothless grins, the smell of baby lotion and the sight of tiny toes. Watching a child grow into an amazing young person like their older sister who is a happy, healthy, extremely well-adjusted sixteen year old who will be seventeen when she FINALLY gets a sibling. Having it all… my family, my career and a baby that will have cost us more to get him / her here than it will cost us in his / her first year of life… all the while I will love every single second of it. Morning sickness and all!
I finished the first week following insemination and truthfully never really thought of it again. We talked about the new car we were going to be buying now that our sixteen year old had taken over the family sedan and decided where we would go on Allyssa’s graduation cruise. I went to work and shared with the one co-worker and friend who knew we had gone ahead with the fourth and final try that I truly had gotten over it. I was very ready for another negative pregnancy test so that I could move on with my life, so that I could get busy on Plan B! I even continued to use the Espresso machine that I got for Mother’s Day and had adjusted (rather excitedly) to the fact that I will never in my life have to change a diaper unless I just want to. The second week I could feel the elation in knowing that on Monday, June 15th (the day after we got confirmation from the fertility clinic that we were once again negative) my life would continue on, KNOWING not WONDERING that we would continue to be blessed with the one and only child that we already have.
Friday, June 12th at 4:30 AM I got up to get ready for work. I walked into the bathroom and looked at the pregnancy tests staring at me from the cabinet. I decided to take one since we were having dinner with friends the next day and I was more than happy to be able to indulge in a margarita… or three. In less than five minutes, Plan B went out the window with one word…. “Pregnant.” I picked up the Clear Blue Easy and looked at it again. I stared at it for what felt like an hour but I am sure was less than a minute. My eyes filled with tears and I went and woke Lisa with the news. I was physically shaking when I told her and we both agreed that it was a very bizarre feeling to be so completely surprised to be pregnant when we had been trying so hard to become that way.
So… Plan B has now reverted back to what THIS particular 35 year old is now dreaming of. Morning sickness, weight gain, out of control emotions and child birth. Late nights, early mornings, diapers, spit up and sneakers instead of four inch heels. An SUV instead of a two-door and a nursery instead of an office. Chubby cheeks, toothless grins, the smell of baby lotion and the sight of tiny toes. Watching a child grow into an amazing young person like their older sister who is a happy, healthy, extremely well-adjusted sixteen year old who will be seventeen when she FINALLY gets a sibling. Having it all… my family, my career and a baby that will have cost us more to get him / her here than it will cost us in his / her first year of life… all the while I will love every single second of it. Morning sickness and all!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Seniors 2010
Seniors 2010... that is what I heard and saw all weekend long. When my daughter excitedly talked to her friends on the phone about the impending first day of school and the fact that they are now Seniors. More than one of her friends who are on my Facebook friends list commented on the fact in their Facebook status updates. From my faux daughter Allision - "I'm not excited about school tomorrow, but I'm a Senior!!" From someone else that will remain anonymous - "Seniors 2010 - F*@K Yeah!" And my favorite from my would be adopted son Evan - ... "I've already got Senioritis!" Allyssa's update was an inside joke from our Annual Mother / Daughter weekend.... That thankfully did not include the F word.
It's hard to believe that my daughter is a Senior in high school. I remember my Mom telling me that time flies. She wasn't lying. On an almost daily basis it feels like yesterday that we were going to pre-school. For twelve years I've driven Allyssa to school on the first day. Even last year when she had friends that were driving I still drove her and faux daughter Allison to school. I always expect a hug and a kiss and last year, the front of the school was packed with kids and she didn't want to hug and kiss me goodbye. I told her that if she didn't, I would start honking the horn until she did. She laughed (although I wasn't kidding) and promptly gave me a hug and a kiss.
Yesterday on our way home from Mother / Daughter weekend we talked about the upcoming school week and talked about clothes, friends and lunch. Allyssa stopped and said, "Oh! This is the first year I get to drive to school!" I said, "Oh yeah! Did you get your parking permit?" "No, we pick them up in the morning! But this is the first year you won't have to drive me to school!" The very second she finished her sentence I could feel the lump in my throat and my face begin to get red. I knew I was going to cry right then... And I did.
This morning I woke Allyssa up as I was leaving for work. I went in and sat on the side of her bed for a minute. I looked at the child who on her first day of Kindegarten was just over 35 pounds. The child who for five basketball seasons was dwarfed by other girls her age. The child whose first pair of soccer cleats had to be ordered because I couldn't find them to fit her tiny feet. I looked at my child now, standing as tall (or as short) as I am, the child who wears the same size shoe I do and the child who is now old enough to work, drive and date. I touched the side of her face and told her it was time to wake up. She opened one eye and gave me a half smile and closed her eyes again. I kissed her cheek, reminded her of the time and told her to have a great day. I stood up and looked at my child, the child who lives for music, text messaging and chinese food. My child who no longer needs a ride on the first day of school and who will never again be bullied into hugging and kissing her Mom goodbye in the school parking lot. I turned to walk away and she said in a half asleep voice, "Momma... I love you." I looked back and saw my teenager. A kid who doesn't have a mean bone in her body, a kid with a great sense of humor, who loves her friends and even still loves her family. A kid who even though she can't remember to feed the dogs or hang up her towel is still by all accounts (not just that of her Mother) one of the greatest teenagers around!
It's hard to believe that my daughter is a Senior in high school. I remember my Mom telling me that time flies. She wasn't lying. On an almost daily basis it feels like yesterday that we were going to pre-school. For twelve years I've driven Allyssa to school on the first day. Even last year when she had friends that were driving I still drove her and faux daughter Allison to school. I always expect a hug and a kiss and last year, the front of the school was packed with kids and she didn't want to hug and kiss me goodbye. I told her that if she didn't, I would start honking the horn until she did. She laughed (although I wasn't kidding) and promptly gave me a hug and a kiss.
Yesterday on our way home from Mother / Daughter weekend we talked about the upcoming school week and talked about clothes, friends and lunch. Allyssa stopped and said, "Oh! This is the first year I get to drive to school!" I said, "Oh yeah! Did you get your parking permit?" "No, we pick them up in the morning! But this is the first year you won't have to drive me to school!" The very second she finished her sentence I could feel the lump in my throat and my face begin to get red. I knew I was going to cry right then... And I did.
This morning I woke Allyssa up as I was leaving for work. I went in and sat on the side of her bed for a minute. I looked at the child who on her first day of Kindegarten was just over 35 pounds. The child who for five basketball seasons was dwarfed by other girls her age. The child whose first pair of soccer cleats had to be ordered because I couldn't find them to fit her tiny feet. I looked at my child now, standing as tall (or as short) as I am, the child who wears the same size shoe I do and the child who is now old enough to work, drive and date. I touched the side of her face and told her it was time to wake up. She opened one eye and gave me a half smile and closed her eyes again. I kissed her cheek, reminded her of the time and told her to have a great day. I stood up and looked at my child, the child who lives for music, text messaging and chinese food. My child who no longer needs a ride on the first day of school and who will never again be bullied into hugging and kissing her Mom goodbye in the school parking lot. I turned to walk away and she said in a half asleep voice, "Momma... I love you." I looked back and saw my teenager. A kid who doesn't have a mean bone in her body, a kid with a great sense of humor, who loves her friends and even still loves her family. A kid who even though she can't remember to feed the dogs or hang up her towel is still by all accounts (not just that of her Mother) one of the greatest teenagers around!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Times... They just might be changing...
I spent my entire weekend in church. Friday night I was at a wedding rehearsal to meter the lighting for the wedding I was to shoot the next day. Saturday I arrived an hour and a half before the wedding to prepare and shoot the details. As I prepared, I watched as everyone else also prepared. The wedding planner was gathering last minute items, waiting on the caterer and lighting candles. The musician arrived and was tuning her guitar. The sound guy was setting up her mic and the cake was coming in the door. The minutes passed quickly and before I knew it, the right song was playing and I knew it was time. The candles lit, the music perfect, the pastor entered and the attendants followed. The couple’s song began and they entered the church together. Hand in hand they walked down the aisle and met the pastor at the front of the church, in front of the communion table. This wasn’t my first job as a wedding photographer, but it was my first experience in the UCC Church setting.
The pastor gave the standard announcement and the couple joined hands and prayed. There were a couple of readings and a short homily. The pastor invited the wedding guests to stand and offer their support to the couple and then the couple passed their wedding rings around the church so that every individual could bless the rings in their own way. As the photographer, all of this is kind of a blur. I am not sure if I have the order of events correct and I am not even sure if there may have been another song in there somewhere. As the photographer, you get lost in the moment of the frame and lose some of the experience....
Sunday we slept in but I made my way toward the church at 12:30 for Confirmation Class. No... I am not being confirmed at 35 years old. I was actually asked to be a confirmation mentor. A thought that still gives me pause.... Me. A confirmation MENTOR?? A MENTOR FOR A TEENAGER? I was pregnant at 17, married at 18 and divorced at 20. Ten years ago I discovered my inner Lesbian and last year ran off an married a woman! Am I really fit to be anyone's mentor? Apparently at my church they think I am. I sat in the class and listened. I listened as the kids, some wiser than they should be at fourteen talked about how they haven't been welcomed at other churches because of the religious beliefs of their parents among other things. I looked around and listened to these middle and high school students talk about what they thought prayer was, what they thought worship was and what part of worship was important to them. We talked about communion and what it means to some of us and why we think it's important to each of us as individuals. We gave our reasons and my own personal reason brought me back to the wedding on Saturday...
With the couple smiling from ear to ear, I changed my lens and the pastor prepared for communion. The communion prayer was said and everyone was welcomed to the communion table. I heard the pastor say, “No matter where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” Or at least I thought I heard that, I really can’t be sure, I know I've heard it before – but at the moment when communion began – I moved to the back of the church and had one of only a handful of still moments to myself. No lens to obstruct my vision, no person making a request for a family photo, just me in the back of a church, looking at the enormous cross behind the pulpit, watching as two women were being married. Where two women were serving their friends and family communion. Where the female pastor blessed the rings and welcomed ALL to the table. Where the wedding guests came from all walks of life and all came together to celebrate the love of two people, even if those two people were of the same gender. I looked at the church, my church. I looked at the pastor, my pastor and I looked to the front of the church where my daughter and my own spouse sat and realized how unbelievably blessed I am to have found such an amazing community to be a part of.
The pastor gave the standard announcement and the couple joined hands and prayed. There were a couple of readings and a short homily. The pastor invited the wedding guests to stand and offer their support to the couple and then the couple passed their wedding rings around the church so that every individual could bless the rings in their own way. As the photographer, all of this is kind of a blur. I am not sure if I have the order of events correct and I am not even sure if there may have been another song in there somewhere. As the photographer, you get lost in the moment of the frame and lose some of the experience....
Sunday we slept in but I made my way toward the church at 12:30 for Confirmation Class. No... I am not being confirmed at 35 years old. I was actually asked to be a confirmation mentor. A thought that still gives me pause.... Me. A confirmation MENTOR?? A MENTOR FOR A TEENAGER? I was pregnant at 17, married at 18 and divorced at 20. Ten years ago I discovered my inner Lesbian and last year ran off an married a woman! Am I really fit to be anyone's mentor? Apparently at my church they think I am. I sat in the class and listened. I listened as the kids, some wiser than they should be at fourteen talked about how they haven't been welcomed at other churches because of the religious beliefs of their parents among other things. I looked around and listened to these middle and high school students talk about what they thought prayer was, what they thought worship was and what part of worship was important to them. We talked about communion and what it means to some of us and why we think it's important to each of us as individuals. We gave our reasons and my own personal reason brought me back to the wedding on Saturday...
With the couple smiling from ear to ear, I changed my lens and the pastor prepared for communion. The communion prayer was said and everyone was welcomed to the communion table. I heard the pastor say, “No matter where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” Or at least I thought I heard that, I really can’t be sure, I know I've heard it before – but at the moment when communion began – I moved to the back of the church and had one of only a handful of still moments to myself. No lens to obstruct my vision, no person making a request for a family photo, just me in the back of a church, looking at the enormous cross behind the pulpit, watching as two women were being married. Where two women were serving their friends and family communion. Where the female pastor blessed the rings and welcomed ALL to the table. Where the wedding guests came from all walks of life and all came together to celebrate the love of two people, even if those two people were of the same gender. I looked at the church, my church. I looked at the pastor, my pastor and I looked to the front of the church where my daughter and my own spouse sat and realized how unbelievably blessed I am to have found such an amazing community to be a part of.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Re-Married... Withouth a Divorce
I officially made it through my first year of marriage! I think it’s safe to say that it exceeded my expectations – because frankly, I had none. I made a great choice and hoped for the best... and it worked! In the past year we’ve had personal successes and personal failures. We’ve laughed, cried and laughed some more. All in all, it’s been a really great twelve months.
When we were originally planning our wedding we had every intention on going to the great state of Massachusetts, the only state at the time to allow and recognize same-sex marriage. However, they had a residency loophole so we decided just to do our wedding our way and legalize it some other day. Just one short year later with Massachusetts no longer requiring residency we now have FOUR states that have marched into the 21st Century and are allowing and fully recognizing same-sex marriages. So... We flew into Boston a week ago last Friday and did the tourist thing for three days. After that we headed out to Cape Cod to hang with some friends and to get RE-Married on our anniversary.
In order to get married on our actual anniversary, we needed a waiver from a local courthouse excuse us from the three day requirement Massachusetts has for marriage licenses. As we walked up to the courthouse is a VERY small town called Barnstable on Cape Cod, I could feel just the slightest bit of nervousness. I am completely open and honest about my personal life, but I have spent most of my adult life in the South and I would NOT feel good about going into the courthouse in my county with my female partner and inquiring about a marriage license.
We walked in and were greeted by a female Deputy who appeared to be straight; she smiled and asked in a very heavy New England accent if we knew where we needed to be. I told her we were there to get a waiver for the marriage license. I thought she was going to come across the table and hug us both! She smiled and told us what floor we needed to be on and what we needed to ask for. She congratulated us and sent us on our way. In the court clerk’s office, we received the same response and had our waiver signed by the judge in less than 20 minutes. We proceeded to the Town Clerk's office in the town we planned to marry in and received an almost warmer response with the clerk offering up romantic spots for walks along the beach.
Lisa and I finished preparing for our "Re-Marriage" feeling a little surprised and also a little saddened. We were surprised that EVERYONE we came in contact with; male, female, old, young – they all gave us the same response – sincere congratulations and well wishes. At the same time we were saddened that there are 46 other states (our own home state included) that wouldn’t recognize our union and in most cases have and continue to adamantly fight against same-sex marriage.
With that, Wednesday, April 8th Lisa and I celebrated our first anniversary as a married couple saying our religious (and legal) vows with a UCC Pastor on a rock jetty in Provincetown Massachusetts. It was a lot colder on Cape Cod than it was last year in Key West but we made it through the year and now have a legal marriage license to prove it! Maybe on our second anniversary we will have recognition in our own state??
A girl can dream can’t she??
When we were originally planning our wedding we had every intention on going to the great state of Massachusetts, the only state at the time to allow and recognize same-sex marriage. However, they had a residency loophole so we decided just to do our wedding our way and legalize it some other day. Just one short year later with Massachusetts no longer requiring residency we now have FOUR states that have marched into the 21st Century and are allowing and fully recognizing same-sex marriages. So... We flew into Boston a week ago last Friday and did the tourist thing for three days. After that we headed out to Cape Cod to hang with some friends and to get RE-Married on our anniversary.
In order to get married on our actual anniversary, we needed a waiver from a local courthouse excuse us from the three day requirement Massachusetts has for marriage licenses. As we walked up to the courthouse is a VERY small town called Barnstable on Cape Cod, I could feel just the slightest bit of nervousness. I am completely open and honest about my personal life, but I have spent most of my adult life in the South and I would NOT feel good about going into the courthouse in my county with my female partner and inquiring about a marriage license.
We walked in and were greeted by a female Deputy who appeared to be straight; she smiled and asked in a very heavy New England accent if we knew where we needed to be. I told her we were there to get a waiver for the marriage license. I thought she was going to come across the table and hug us both! She smiled and told us what floor we needed to be on and what we needed to ask for. She congratulated us and sent us on our way. In the court clerk’s office, we received the same response and had our waiver signed by the judge in less than 20 minutes. We proceeded to the Town Clerk's office in the town we planned to marry in and received an almost warmer response with the clerk offering up romantic spots for walks along the beach.
Lisa and I finished preparing for our "Re-Marriage" feeling a little surprised and also a little saddened. We were surprised that EVERYONE we came in contact with; male, female, old, young – they all gave us the same response – sincere congratulations and well wishes. At the same time we were saddened that there are 46 other states (our own home state included) that wouldn’t recognize our union and in most cases have and continue to adamantly fight against same-sex marriage.
With that, Wednesday, April 8th Lisa and I celebrated our first anniversary as a married couple saying our religious (and legal) vows with a UCC Pastor on a rock jetty in Provincetown Massachusetts. It was a lot colder on Cape Cod than it was last year in Key West but we made it through the year and now have a legal marriage license to prove it! Maybe on our second anniversary we will have recognition in our own state??
A girl can dream can’t she??
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Funny Face Pancakes
It’s never been a question of whether my daughter was going to attend college, she’s always known it was an expectation and she’s always wanted to go. She’s maintained that she wants to teach since about the third grade and that is still her goal. However, while looking at my third grader, with her braids and bruised shins, far more interested in softball and soccer than school - none of that really seemed like a reality. Driving nearly 200 miles from home last Thursday to her first college visit it all suddenly seemed very real. Very real.
We left our house at 6:30 AM. The campus tour didn’t begin until 11:00 but for those of you not living in Atlanta I-75 traffic can never be underestimated. We made it through the city without even a tap of the brakes, so we knew we’d be early. We stopped on the way down at an IHop for breakfast. When Allyssa was younger, she used to love the Funny Face Pancakes. We went in to the restaurant and she was still excited to order the Funny Face Pancake. Much to her dismay, they were on the children’s menu – for kids 12 and under. We talked about the unfairness of life in general and when the waitress came Allyssa ordered the regular Chocolate Chip Pancakes – but had “a small request.” “Can you please ask them to make it a Funny Face Pancake? I used to love ordering those, but they are on the kids menu.” I laughed and thought about how the lady must think the kid is crazy but then she turned to me and said, “It’s so nice to see a teenager who is still interested in being a kid.” As she turned and walked toward the kitchen I looked at Allyssa and agreed…. It is really nice.
After Allyssa’s carb overload at breakfast she promptly fell asleep in the car. As I drove in silence I realized how far away from home we were. In the physical sense, we were literally in the middle of the state and in the middle of nowhere. But in the general sense, I looked at my sleeping child and wondered where the time had gone. How on earth could I have a daughter old enough to be visiting colleges? I thought about how both our lives had changed so much in the last sixteen and a half years and how far away we were from where we had started.
We arrived in the small (VERY SMALL) college town about an hour before the tour was to start. Allyssa woke up in time to realize that we had left the city or any indication of a city in the IHop parking lot. We drove around the town to see where the important landmarks were. Target, Publix, the AT&T store, the mall… We found that all those places were thirty miles away. However, there was a Piggly Wiggly, (which is a very small grocery store) a Dollar General, CVS, Walgreens and a gas station. There were also the two token fast food restaurants right across the street from the college.
When we pulled into the parking space in front of the college, I looked around at the students and felt the lump in my throat. I closed my eyes and vowed not to start crying in front of her. We went to the information center and waited for the tour to start. We were joined by three other families and our group was led by a second year female student with an accent so thick I had to ask her to repeat herself, more than once. I looked around the campus at all the other kids. They didn’t look like my daughter. They looked older, smarter and more independent. I quickly (and sadly) realized those were things I wanted for my daughter, even though the realization stung just a tiny bit.
We learned about the schools history, the class sizes and campus life in general. We toured several of the buildings, a couple of cafeterias and one of the dorms. I learned that college kids eat a lot better than one would have thought and that unless you maintain a 3.0 you live in a co-ed dorm. I watched as Allyssa interacted and asked questions. I could see the excitement in her eyes when we toured the Drama building and looked in the theatre. My minds eye took me back to the days when she would beg me to come watch her performance of the Little Mermaid’s Under the Sea – but she didn’t know the words, so she sang it as, “I’m not a C.” Or when her very soulful (eyes closed and everything) rendition of Swing Low Sweet Chariot turned into Swing Low Sweet Cherries On. I thought of my nine year old quoting every line – voices included – to Dana Carvey’s Master of Disguise for what felt like days on end and how much I JUST WANTED IT TO STOP!!! I smiled to myself and wondered if I could get her to do just a couple of the lines again.
When the tour was over, we headed home, Allyssa grinning from ear to ear. She was very excited about the school, what it had to offer and the reality of the fact that in the fall of 2010, she’ll be a college student if not there, somewhere. I was genuinely happy for my daughter but as she went back to sleep somewhere around Macon, I went ahead and let the tears fall because while we have our good days and bad days just like every other family in America, not only do I really love that kid but I really like her a lot too!
We left our house at 6:30 AM. The campus tour didn’t begin until 11:00 but for those of you not living in Atlanta I-75 traffic can never be underestimated. We made it through the city without even a tap of the brakes, so we knew we’d be early. We stopped on the way down at an IHop for breakfast. When Allyssa was younger, she used to love the Funny Face Pancakes. We went in to the restaurant and she was still excited to order the Funny Face Pancake. Much to her dismay, they were on the children’s menu – for kids 12 and under. We talked about the unfairness of life in general and when the waitress came Allyssa ordered the regular Chocolate Chip Pancakes – but had “a small request.” “Can you please ask them to make it a Funny Face Pancake? I used to love ordering those, but they are on the kids menu.” I laughed and thought about how the lady must think the kid is crazy but then she turned to me and said, “It’s so nice to see a teenager who is still interested in being a kid.” As she turned and walked toward the kitchen I looked at Allyssa and agreed…. It is really nice.
After Allyssa’s carb overload at breakfast she promptly fell asleep in the car. As I drove in silence I realized how far away from home we were. In the physical sense, we were literally in the middle of the state and in the middle of nowhere. But in the general sense, I looked at my sleeping child and wondered where the time had gone. How on earth could I have a daughter old enough to be visiting colleges? I thought about how both our lives had changed so much in the last sixteen and a half years and how far away we were from where we had started.
We arrived in the small (VERY SMALL) college town about an hour before the tour was to start. Allyssa woke up in time to realize that we had left the city or any indication of a city in the IHop parking lot. We drove around the town to see where the important landmarks were. Target, Publix, the AT&T store, the mall… We found that all those places were thirty miles away. However, there was a Piggly Wiggly, (which is a very small grocery store) a Dollar General, CVS, Walgreens and a gas station. There were also the two token fast food restaurants right across the street from the college.
When we pulled into the parking space in front of the college, I looked around at the students and felt the lump in my throat. I closed my eyes and vowed not to start crying in front of her. We went to the information center and waited for the tour to start. We were joined by three other families and our group was led by a second year female student with an accent so thick I had to ask her to repeat herself, more than once. I looked around the campus at all the other kids. They didn’t look like my daughter. They looked older, smarter and more independent. I quickly (and sadly) realized those were things I wanted for my daughter, even though the realization stung just a tiny bit.
We learned about the schools history, the class sizes and campus life in general. We toured several of the buildings, a couple of cafeterias and one of the dorms. I learned that college kids eat a lot better than one would have thought and that unless you maintain a 3.0 you live in a co-ed dorm. I watched as Allyssa interacted and asked questions. I could see the excitement in her eyes when we toured the Drama building and looked in the theatre. My minds eye took me back to the days when she would beg me to come watch her performance of the Little Mermaid’s Under the Sea – but she didn’t know the words, so she sang it as, “I’m not a C.” Or when her very soulful (eyes closed and everything) rendition of Swing Low Sweet Chariot turned into Swing Low Sweet Cherries On. I thought of my nine year old quoting every line – voices included – to Dana Carvey’s Master of Disguise for what felt like days on end and how much I JUST WANTED IT TO STOP!!! I smiled to myself and wondered if I could get her to do just a couple of the lines again.
When the tour was over, we headed home, Allyssa grinning from ear to ear. She was very excited about the school, what it had to offer and the reality of the fact that in the fall of 2010, she’ll be a college student if not there, somewhere. I was genuinely happy for my daughter but as she went back to sleep somewhere around Macon, I went ahead and let the tears fall because while we have our good days and bad days just like every other family in America, not only do I really love that kid but I really like her a lot too!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Soooo??
Sooo.... it's been over a month since my last post and most of you already know, we are not pregnant. While I can almost actually HEAR the disappointment... it's okay... really. Admittedly, I was disappointed at first, but had some pretty good indications that I wasn't pregnant before the actual test. So I had about a week to get over it. We are getting prepared for another cycle. SO... keep your fingers crossed for us.
Separately, I am back on the Clomid! WOO HOO! (See post from December 19th.) Except THIS time - as luck would have it, I get to have an INCREASED dosage. Which let me tell you is EFFEN AWESOME! (I know sarcasm is hard to read in email... but if you DIDN'T get it... THAT was meant to be sarcastic.)
So this time (so far, I am only one day into the med cycle)
I've been a raging bitch, (although I could attribute that to another situation) I can't sleep, and when I actually WAS sleeping, I was having the most bizarre dreams that I am not sure that I wouldn't rather be awake. BUT the best part is I've been extremely tired since about four hours after my dose - which was at 9:00 Saturday morning. It's currently 2:00 on Sunday MORNING! Which really helps with the aggression factor.
All that to say this: No, we're not pregnant and PLEASE pray (or whatever you do) for me (AND my family's) sanity while we go on to day two of the Clomid.
Only three more days to go....
Separately, I am back on the Clomid! WOO HOO! (See post from December 19th.) Except THIS time - as luck would have it, I get to have an INCREASED dosage. Which let me tell you is EFFEN AWESOME! (I know sarcasm is hard to read in email... but if you DIDN'T get it... THAT was meant to be sarcastic.)
So this time (so far, I am only one day into the med cycle)
I've been a raging bitch, (although I could attribute that to another situation) I can't sleep, and when I actually WAS sleeping, I was having the most bizarre dreams that I am not sure that I wouldn't rather be awake. BUT the best part is I've been extremely tired since about four hours after my dose - which was at 9:00 Saturday morning. It's currently 2:00 on Sunday MORNING! Which really helps with the aggression factor.
All that to say this: No, we're not pregnant and PLEASE pray (or whatever you do) for me (AND my family's) sanity while we go on to day two of the Clomid.
Only three more days to go....
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Wait Is On
I’ve always wondered about the people that know the exact date their child / children were conceived. Are they so Type A that nothing can be spontaneous, are they working really hard at building a family or is their sex life THAT non-existent? I never really thought about the fact there is another sexless option, that is until we started going through our Quest for Baby Bailey.
Two weeks ago our journey took us to the final phase of our first cycle of treatment, the insemination. After countless vials of blood, multiple ultrasounds and hundreds of dollars, we were ready to inseminate. Since we made the decision to grow our family, I have had some pretty strong impressions of how things were going to go. Being a very traditional oldest child, Type A personality myself, I knew that every vision I had of the entire process would certainly be exactly the way things would go. I hadn’t thought much about the testing phases, or the drugs, but I had ideas about the insemination.
Surprisingly, (since I am a lesbian with friends who have become pregnant this way) I had NO real idea of how the actual insemination would be but in my minds eye it was going to be beautiful! I would wake up, get another smiley face on the little pink stick and call for the appointment. It would be a wonderfully warm day, the sun would be shining and all things in nature would be in perfect harmony as we walked into the fertility clinic. Hand in hand we’d laugh and joke about the names we discussed, visiting with other parents-to-be while we waited to be called back. The exam room would be warmer than usual and have a soft glow to it that I hadn’t noticed before. We’d briefly talk to the doctor and would lovingly look into each others eyes while the painless process was taking place. Anyone who has done it knows that is exactly how it goes, right??
Anyone who knows me knows I firmly believe that every single thing that happens in your life happens for a reason. I believe that there are lessons in everything and if you fail to learn the lesson, you’ll continue to encounter situations in which the lesson can be learned again. Knowing this, I have yet to wrap my head around this life lesson – Everything does not revolve around me AND things will not always happen the way that I think they should. (Regardless of the fact that my way is almost always the best way!!)
This is where I’ll stop. I’ve written and re-written this blog… and just didn’t really find anything interesting or amusing about the long drawn out version… so the short of it is this: The insemination was not what I expected it to be. It was raining outside, Lisa wasn’t able to join me, the room wasn’t warm and the procedure wasn’t painless. Hell, I was (hopefully) getting pregnant and they didn’t even dim the lights and turn on some music and let me tell you, for the amount of money, that (insert expletive here) should be included! Nevertheless, it’s done…. And now we wait.
Two weeks ago our journey took us to the final phase of our first cycle of treatment, the insemination. After countless vials of blood, multiple ultrasounds and hundreds of dollars, we were ready to inseminate. Since we made the decision to grow our family, I have had some pretty strong impressions of how things were going to go. Being a very traditional oldest child, Type A personality myself, I knew that every vision I had of the entire process would certainly be exactly the way things would go. I hadn’t thought much about the testing phases, or the drugs, but I had ideas about the insemination.
Surprisingly, (since I am a lesbian with friends who have become pregnant this way) I had NO real idea of how the actual insemination would be but in my minds eye it was going to be beautiful! I would wake up, get another smiley face on the little pink stick and call for the appointment. It would be a wonderfully warm day, the sun would be shining and all things in nature would be in perfect harmony as we walked into the fertility clinic. Hand in hand we’d laugh and joke about the names we discussed, visiting with other parents-to-be while we waited to be called back. The exam room would be warmer than usual and have a soft glow to it that I hadn’t noticed before. We’d briefly talk to the doctor and would lovingly look into each others eyes while the painless process was taking place. Anyone who has done it knows that is exactly how it goes, right??
Anyone who knows me knows I firmly believe that every single thing that happens in your life happens for a reason. I believe that there are lessons in everything and if you fail to learn the lesson, you’ll continue to encounter situations in which the lesson can be learned again. Knowing this, I have yet to wrap my head around this life lesson – Everything does not revolve around me AND things will not always happen the way that I think they should. (Regardless of the fact that my way is almost always the best way!!)
This is where I’ll stop. I’ve written and re-written this blog… and just didn’t really find anything interesting or amusing about the long drawn out version… so the short of it is this: The insemination was not what I expected it to be. It was raining outside, Lisa wasn’t able to join me, the room wasn’t warm and the procedure wasn’t painless. Hell, I was (hopefully) getting pregnant and they didn’t even dim the lights and turn on some music and let me tell you, for the amount of money, that (insert expletive here) should be included! Nevertheless, it’s done…. And now we wait.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Process Continues
Since my last post we finally got the ever coveted LH Surge – which indicated ovulation! So now that my eggs are doing what they are supposed to do, our quest for Baby Bailey took us for our first phase of treatment.
The first phase was to do an ultrasound to make sure I had egg follicles. SCORE! We have a total of FOURTEEN! This sounds like an incredible number, but in reality, is really just a little above average. Being the Type-A that I am… Average didn't sound good… but I guess in this case it is. Then they went for the blood. NINE (not exaggerating) vials and FIVE needles later they had what they needed. Tests all came back normal and I started the fertility drugs.
So my drug of choice (coming from someone who literally does not take Tylenol and hasn't for over a decade) is Clomid. If you've ever known anyone on fertility medication, you may have heard about some of the less desirable side affects, the main one being homicidal tendencies. Needless to say, it's been an interesting couple of days. While I haven't yet wanted to literally kill someone – well, there was that one incident in traffic – I have definitely had to TRY to keep my emotions under control. I felt myself tearing up when my daughter told me she wanted to eat cereal for dinner and the other day at work I nearly cried when I opened my lunch box and saw the contents. The lunch that I myself had packed all of it very good and balanced, I even included a fat free pudding cup but stopped shy of writing myself a note. I don't know why this alone turned on the water works but it did. Just like the newest Publix commercial, a State Farm commercial, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_dkyByzD-Y) the trailer for Marley & Me and a Jennifer Anniston plug for St. Jude. All brought me to tears and the last two in a packed movie theater before the movie had even started! Never mind the crying that took place DURING the movie… a comedy that I am fairly confident didn’t have anyone else crying in their seat!
This process is teaching me a lot about myself, the Lovely Lisa and the Amazing Allyssa. I am learning that yes, indeed I am a control freak. So… being completely out of control of my emotions has taken some adjusting to. Lisa is truly a jewel. She looks at me with a look of utter confusion and disbelief (one would if nearly every holiday commercial on TV brought you to tears) but still smiles as if to have me believe she doesn’t think I’m crazy and Allyssa… Allyssa has a great sense of humor. One day, should she survive this process, it will serve her well.
And so it goes….
The first phase was to do an ultrasound to make sure I had egg follicles. SCORE! We have a total of FOURTEEN! This sounds like an incredible number, but in reality, is really just a little above average. Being the Type-A that I am… Average didn't sound good… but I guess in this case it is. Then they went for the blood. NINE (not exaggerating) vials and FIVE needles later they had what they needed. Tests all came back normal and I started the fertility drugs.
So my drug of choice (coming from someone who literally does not take Tylenol and hasn't for over a decade) is Clomid. If you've ever known anyone on fertility medication, you may have heard about some of the less desirable side affects, the main one being homicidal tendencies. Needless to say, it's been an interesting couple of days. While I haven't yet wanted to literally kill someone – well, there was that one incident in traffic – I have definitely had to TRY to keep my emotions under control. I felt myself tearing up when my daughter told me she wanted to eat cereal for dinner and the other day at work I nearly cried when I opened my lunch box and saw the contents. The lunch that I myself had packed all of it very good and balanced, I even included a fat free pudding cup but stopped shy of writing myself a note. I don't know why this alone turned on the water works but it did. Just like the newest Publix commercial, a State Farm commercial, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_dkyByzD-Y) the trailer for Marley & Me and a Jennifer Anniston plug for St. Jude. All brought me to tears and the last two in a packed movie theater before the movie had even started! Never mind the crying that took place DURING the movie… a comedy that I am fairly confident didn’t have anyone else crying in their seat!
This process is teaching me a lot about myself, the Lovely Lisa and the Amazing Allyssa. I am learning that yes, indeed I am a control freak. So… being completely out of control of my emotions has taken some adjusting to. Lisa is truly a jewel. She looks at me with a look of utter confusion and disbelief (one would if nearly every holiday commercial on TV brought you to tears) but still smiles as if to have me believe she doesn’t think I’m crazy and Allyssa… Allyssa has a great sense of humor. One day, should she survive this process, it will serve her well.
And so it goes….
Monday, November 17, 2008
Ovulation, Smovulation!
It's Monday again... and we've been on our journey for Baby Bailey for what seems like years. I've learned allot over the past few months, about myself, about the lovely Lisa, about other people and about the human body. More specifically MY human body. The body that isn't really cooperating with this whole process to pregnancy.
Yes... it's true. The same body, albeit older and wiser (and wider) that got me pregnant on birth control pills (thank you Ortho Novum) at the ripe old age of seventeen has decided that ovulation and a regular menstrual cycle really needn't be part of the plan. So while I pee on a stick every morning and hope for the smiley face that tells me that I have the achieved the ever so coveted LH Surge (at a cost of $40.00 per week) I relive the day I realized I was pregnant with my daughter Allyssa. I had been dating my boyfriend for a little over a year. Had been taking the pill for about three months, had sex three times and when I didn't get my period on day two of the little pink pills I just knew it. I got in the shower that morning and cried. I even said a prayer out loud... it went something like this, "Dear God, PLEASE, PLEASE don't let me be pregnant. I will NEVER have sex again... just PLEASE don't let me be pregnant." That was on a Thursday.
I don't think I could have been any less prepared to be someones mother back then. I was a senior in high school, I was counting down the days until I went away for college... Away from my parents, away from the small town I grew up in, away from what I perceived as my boring reality. Soon I realized the only place I'd be going was to Lamaze Class. I never weighed my options. The thought of an abortion or adoption never occurred to me and that September I gave birth to my almost nine pound baby girl and have never thought twice about it.
Here I am sixteen years later and if it were humanly possible for me to get pregnant by accident, I'd pray for it every day! While I think you can always be MORE prepared to have children, we've done a pretty good job of preparing ourselves for our future and whatever it may bring. My friend Heidi said I'd get pregnant right away if I'd just quit my job, blow through my savings and start sleeping with losers. I think for now I'll just continue to wait.
SO COME ON EGGS!! Do your thing!!!
Yes... it's true. The same body, albeit older and wiser (and wider) that got me pregnant on birth control pills (thank you Ortho Novum) at the ripe old age of seventeen has decided that ovulation and a regular menstrual cycle really needn't be part of the plan. So while I pee on a stick every morning and hope for the smiley face that tells me that I have the achieved the ever so coveted LH Surge (at a cost of $40.00 per week) I relive the day I realized I was pregnant with my daughter Allyssa. I had been dating my boyfriend for a little over a year. Had been taking the pill for about three months, had sex three times and when I didn't get my period on day two of the little pink pills I just knew it. I got in the shower that morning and cried. I even said a prayer out loud... it went something like this, "Dear God, PLEASE, PLEASE don't let me be pregnant. I will NEVER have sex again... just PLEASE don't let me be pregnant." That was on a Thursday.
I don't think I could have been any less prepared to be someones mother back then. I was a senior in high school, I was counting down the days until I went away for college... Away from my parents, away from the small town I grew up in, away from what I perceived as my boring reality. Soon I realized the only place I'd be going was to Lamaze Class. I never weighed my options. The thought of an abortion or adoption never occurred to me and that September I gave birth to my almost nine pound baby girl and have never thought twice about it.
Here I am sixteen years later and if it were humanly possible for me to get pregnant by accident, I'd pray for it every day! While I think you can always be MORE prepared to have children, we've done a pretty good job of preparing ourselves for our future and whatever it may bring. My friend Heidi said I'd get pregnant right away if I'd just quit my job, blow through my savings and start sleeping with losers. I think for now I'll just continue to wait.
SO COME ON EGGS!! Do your thing!!!
Monday, November 10, 2008
What I Do Know...
A week ago Saturday, Kim – who is the mother of my daughter's best friend called. Her sister who was diagnosed with Leukemia over the summer was succumbing to the illness and had been sent home to pass. Through her tears she asked me to help with her daughter's birthday party while she was out paying for her baby sister's burial plot. My heart broke for their family.
A day later on Sunday after a really great day; church, lunch with friends, seeing our friend and now pastor being ordained and installed we went home to wind down. After we had been home for about an hour, my daughter called to me from upstairs. Her voice was quivering and we immediately knew something wasn't right. When we got to her and asked what was wrong, through tears and terror she somehow managed to tell us that her friend Ken had killed himself earlier that day. Through shock, horror and a deep sadness I clung to my daughter and mourned for his family. My heart broke for my daughter. My heart broke for Ken and my heart broke for his family.
As I spent the next several hours consoling my child and myself I wondered how this could have happened. How could a young man, so full of life and so full of promise have found himself in such a place of despair? How could the son of a minister, a student on an ROTC Scholarship at Auburn who had everything on earth to live for, someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s friend and someone who by all accounts made everyone else smile…. How could that someone take his own life? How would his poor mother ever manage to wake up and go on knowing that her oldest son couldn't? How would his father hold on to his faith while he was missing his son? How would his brother (another good friend of my daughter) get up every day and carry on without his big brother, his hero, his friend? And how was I to console my own child who was suffering her second tragic loss in her very young life when I could hardly console myself?
Wednesday my daughter's best friends Aunt passed away and my daughter spent five hours that night at a funeral home because her best friend wanted her there. In two days we had two visitations and two funerals on our calendar. Saturday we attended Ken’s funeral. This was the second funeral for a child we’ve attended in just over two years. One child's funeral in a lifetime is almost inconceivable… I am not quite sure how I managed two.
I was amazed that Ken's father preached his own son's funeral. He didn't seem bitter, angry or confused but was clearly holding on desperately to his faith while mourning the loss of his oldest son. His mother hugged me tightly but still managed to put a smile on her tear stained face when she told me it was nice to see me. I sat through the service wondering how those poor people would go back to a house where their son had taken his own life. How they would set a table, minus a place setting. How the upcoming holiday season would be like none other while there was one less person to shop for and one less smiling face opening gifts on Christmas morning. While I cried through a two and a half hour service I recognized that they have a strength I will never possess.
Anyone who knows me knows that I firmly believe there is a lesson in everything. I don't know what my lesson is but I do know that a week later I still physically ache for this family, for my daughter and her friends. I do know that while a young mother of two lay dying at home wishing for just one more day with her loved ones, a young man was on the other side of town wishing that he were dead for reasons that anyone over the age of 30 would have known were just not that serious. I do know that my daughter has experienced loss like I never had to at her age and I wish more than anything in the world I could kept her from that.
A day later on Sunday after a really great day; church, lunch with friends, seeing our friend and now pastor being ordained and installed we went home to wind down. After we had been home for about an hour, my daughter called to me from upstairs. Her voice was quivering and we immediately knew something wasn't right. When we got to her and asked what was wrong, through tears and terror she somehow managed to tell us that her friend Ken had killed himself earlier that day. Through shock, horror and a deep sadness I clung to my daughter and mourned for his family. My heart broke for my daughter. My heart broke for Ken and my heart broke for his family.
As I spent the next several hours consoling my child and myself I wondered how this could have happened. How could a young man, so full of life and so full of promise have found himself in such a place of despair? How could the son of a minister, a student on an ROTC Scholarship at Auburn who had everything on earth to live for, someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s friend and someone who by all accounts made everyone else smile…. How could that someone take his own life? How would his poor mother ever manage to wake up and go on knowing that her oldest son couldn't? How would his father hold on to his faith while he was missing his son? How would his brother (another good friend of my daughter) get up every day and carry on without his big brother, his hero, his friend? And how was I to console my own child who was suffering her second tragic loss in her very young life when I could hardly console myself?
Wednesday my daughter's best friends Aunt passed away and my daughter spent five hours that night at a funeral home because her best friend wanted her there. In two days we had two visitations and two funerals on our calendar. Saturday we attended Ken’s funeral. This was the second funeral for a child we’ve attended in just over two years. One child's funeral in a lifetime is almost inconceivable… I am not quite sure how I managed two.
I was amazed that Ken's father preached his own son's funeral. He didn't seem bitter, angry or confused but was clearly holding on desperately to his faith while mourning the loss of his oldest son. His mother hugged me tightly but still managed to put a smile on her tear stained face when she told me it was nice to see me. I sat through the service wondering how those poor people would go back to a house where their son had taken his own life. How they would set a table, minus a place setting. How the upcoming holiday season would be like none other while there was one less person to shop for and one less smiling face opening gifts on Christmas morning. While I cried through a two and a half hour service I recognized that they have a strength I will never possess.
Anyone who knows me knows that I firmly believe there is a lesson in everything. I don't know what my lesson is but I do know that a week later I still physically ache for this family, for my daughter and her friends. I do know that while a young mother of two lay dying at home wishing for just one more day with her loved ones, a young man was on the other side of town wishing that he were dead for reasons that anyone over the age of 30 would have known were just not that serious. I do know that my daughter has experienced loss like I never had to at her age and I wish more than anything in the world I could kept her from that.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
And the lucky number is.....
Blonde hair, blue or green eyes, 6'0 or taller, athletic, funny, smart.... You wouldn't think these traits would be that difficult to come by! Think again!! Six sperm banks and approximately one hundred and eighty-three donor profiles later, we've finally found our guy. The specimen that will someday contribute to our future child's DNA is on its way to Atlanta via FedEx and dry ice as we speak.
Admittedly, my attitude about the whole thing had become less than positive. I had been beaten down by the dozens of profiles that were not only NOT perfect -- but in my opinion wouldn't even qualify as mediocre. There was the very self-assured guy who said while he never wanted to have children of his own he was donating so that as many children as possible could be blessed with his athletic ability, good looks, well above average intelligence and amazing physique. There was a political activist who used his essay portion of the profile to explain how corrupt our society is and how he would probably never bring a child into the world, but since the money was decent, he'd donate so others could if they wanted. Then there were the donors that while I thought they would be a good candidate - the yoga loving, philosophy major… the lovely Lisa didn't feel the same way. I think her exact words were - He's a total and complete tool. Then there were her choices - the manly man that loved sports and the outdoors - but when it came to the clinic staff impressions he was polite, but all business and seemed nervous. (What is there to be nervous about??) Oh, and there was a slight case of alcoholism in his family.
Monday night, at the end of my rope -- I suggested to Lisa that we re-enter our search criteria at the bank we had decided to use and look again. Maybe we had missed a good one? Surely there had to be ONE that we could both agree on??! So we did. We checked all the appropriate boxes and hit the search button. We opened up the second profile on the list. We read through the short profile and opened up the longer version -- we both (almost simultaneously) agreed that he was the one. The sky opened up and we could hear the hallelujah chorus! We had found the perfect man! He was everything we both wanted in a donor and maybe even a little bit more. He was athletic and sensitive, gave good answers on his essay and had a good speaking voice. The clinic staff impressions of him were also really good! We had found a winner!!!! Lucky number 184!! (Or as the clinic calls him 1923.)
Tuesday I called to make the arrangements with the bank. I placed the order, gave them my credit card and uploaded a baby picture of our donor. He was a really adorable toddler and amazingly enough he resembles Lisa quite a bit. When we looked at the picture together, we both felt it was the perfect decision. The perfect decision on the donor, and the perfect decision to try to have a family.
I've read the profile a dozen times. I've printed the picture and have looked at it over and over. After months of discussion, searching, testing and at times even procrastinating - regardless of the outcome, our lives are about to change.
Admittedly, my attitude about the whole thing had become less than positive. I had been beaten down by the dozens of profiles that were not only NOT perfect -- but in my opinion wouldn't even qualify as mediocre. There was the very self-assured guy who said while he never wanted to have children of his own he was donating so that as many children as possible could be blessed with his athletic ability, good looks, well above average intelligence and amazing physique. There was a political activist who used his essay portion of the profile to explain how corrupt our society is and how he would probably never bring a child into the world, but since the money was decent, he'd donate so others could if they wanted. Then there were the donors that while I thought they would be a good candidate - the yoga loving, philosophy major… the lovely Lisa didn't feel the same way. I think her exact words were - He's a total and complete tool. Then there were her choices - the manly man that loved sports and the outdoors - but when it came to the clinic staff impressions he was polite, but all business and seemed nervous. (What is there to be nervous about??) Oh, and there was a slight case of alcoholism in his family.
Monday night, at the end of my rope -- I suggested to Lisa that we re-enter our search criteria at the bank we had decided to use and look again. Maybe we had missed a good one? Surely there had to be ONE that we could both agree on??! So we did. We checked all the appropriate boxes and hit the search button. We opened up the second profile on the list. We read through the short profile and opened up the longer version -- we both (almost simultaneously) agreed that he was the one. The sky opened up and we could hear the hallelujah chorus! We had found the perfect man! He was everything we both wanted in a donor and maybe even a little bit more. He was athletic and sensitive, gave good answers on his essay and had a good speaking voice. The clinic staff impressions of him were also really good! We had found a winner!!!! Lucky number 184!! (Or as the clinic calls him 1923.)
Tuesday I called to make the arrangements with the bank. I placed the order, gave them my credit card and uploaded a baby picture of our donor. He was a really adorable toddler and amazingly enough he resembles Lisa quite a bit. When we looked at the picture together, we both felt it was the perfect decision. The perfect decision on the donor, and the perfect decision to try to have a family.
I've read the profile a dozen times. I've printed the picture and have looked at it over and over. After months of discussion, searching, testing and at times even procrastinating - regardless of the outcome, our lives are about to change.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The Search Is On!!!
When you decide to have a baby our way, things can be a little bit tricky. I have always thought that the choice to have children and who to have them with was an extremely important one. In my current predicament, I am considering our donor to be a very significant part of the equation. I always assumed that the rest of the world, if in the same situation would feel this way too... until we started telling people about our plans for pregnancy. That's when it started. Friends, acquaintances and even a stranger or two began volunteering to donate to our cause. Some offered in jest, but others were really willing to give it up all in the name of goodwill or in some cases friendship.
At first I thought it was kind of funny. A very close friend (gay) mentioned almost in passing that he would be glad to assist if necessary. Surprised and somewhat uncomfortable, I mumbled something about the fact that we hadn't really decided what direction we were going to go with that. The next day I received a follow up email to our conversation. It read something like this, "Hi, I wanted to check in with you about our conversation at the party yesterday. Just let me know when you are ready and we'll make a plan." Hmmmm.... Just let me know when you are ready...and we'll make a plan. We're not planning to go shopping!!! We're planning to procreate?!!? I could almost envision the conversation in my head. "Hey ________, it's Angel. I appear to be ovulating. Can you come over here for a few... and don't forget your cup! Give my best to the husband and kids!"
I ran into a close friend at a dinner party, (female, straight and married) told me she would "gladly" give us some of her own husbands stuff and reminded me that her children are extremely cute. I laughed and then she repeated the offer and said, "No really, he'll totally do it!" Again, I thought about conversation when it came time. "Hey ______, send your husband's sperm over, it's time to make a baby!" Separately, what if her kids WEREN'T cute??
Then you have the friends who want to volunteer other people's DNA to your cause. Like my friend who doesn't live anywhere near here, has never met Lisa or her brother and very generously offered to use his. "Call Lisa's brother! I am sure he's be glad to do it!" Ummmm.... NO. "Uncle Dad??" I don't think so. Not to mention... you should see the size of this guy's cranium! The plan for a natural childbirth would need to be reconsidered.
Long story short, for personal, ethical and mostly legal reasons, we are using donor sperm. So we've been "shopping" online for weeks looking for a suitable person to help create our child. Our search for a donor has gone on for what seems like months now and I will eliminate otherwise very qualified candidates at the very mention of anything that doesn't come across to me as masculine, fun, or otherwise desirable in a male partner. For instance, the guy whose favorite animal is a cat. Your FAVORITE animal?? Is a cat?? Or how about the guy who when asked what he enjoys doing in his free time he responded, "I like role playing games and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Comic Book Conventions." The egomaniac whose only line to potential parents to his offspring, "I've done my part, now go do yours!" Or the donor whose list of mental health issues in his immediate family would have made for a good movie. Believe me when I tell you, this list could go on.
I've sorted through DOZENS and DOZENS of viable donors and haven't found "The One" yet... but we're still looking!
At first I thought it was kind of funny. A very close friend (gay) mentioned almost in passing that he would be glad to assist if necessary. Surprised and somewhat uncomfortable, I mumbled something about the fact that we hadn't really decided what direction we were going to go with that. The next day I received a follow up email to our conversation. It read something like this, "Hi, I wanted to check in with you about our conversation at the party yesterday. Just let me know when you are ready and we'll make a plan." Hmmmm.... Just let me know when you are ready...and we'll make a plan. We're not planning to go shopping!!! We're planning to procreate?!!? I could almost envision the conversation in my head. "Hey ________, it's Angel. I appear to be ovulating. Can you come over here for a few... and don't forget your cup! Give my best to the husband and kids!"
I ran into a close friend at a dinner party, (female, straight and married) told me she would "gladly" give us some of her own husbands stuff and reminded me that her children are extremely cute. I laughed and then she repeated the offer and said, "No really, he'll totally do it!" Again, I thought about conversation when it came time. "Hey ______, send your husband's sperm over, it's time to make a baby!" Separately, what if her kids WEREN'T cute??
Then you have the friends who want to volunteer other people's DNA to your cause. Like my friend who doesn't live anywhere near here, has never met Lisa or her brother and very generously offered to use his. "Call Lisa's brother! I am sure he's be glad to do it!" Ummmm.... NO. "Uncle Dad??" I don't think so. Not to mention... you should see the size of this guy's cranium! The plan for a natural childbirth would need to be reconsidered.
Long story short, for personal, ethical and mostly legal reasons, we are using donor sperm. So we've been "shopping" online for weeks looking for a suitable person to help create our child. Our search for a donor has gone on for what seems like months now and I will eliminate otherwise very qualified candidates at the very mention of anything that doesn't come across to me as masculine, fun, or otherwise desirable in a male partner. For instance, the guy whose favorite animal is a cat. Your FAVORITE animal?? Is a cat?? Or how about the guy who when asked what he enjoys doing in his free time he responded, "I like role playing games and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Comic Book Conventions." The egomaniac whose only line to potential parents to his offspring, "I've done my part, now go do yours!" Or the donor whose list of mental health issues in his immediate family would have made for a good movie. Believe me when I tell you, this list could go on.
I've sorted through DOZENS and DOZENS of viable donors and haven't found "The One" yet... but we're still looking!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
hCG, LH Surge, Oocytes … Oh My!
Ahhh… the world of fertility treatments! Yes, you read right… FERTILITY TREATMENT. The treatment of one's fertility.
Now you ask, "Why would two women, moderately successful in their respective fields, virtually debt free (except one mortgage) who take a minimum of two vacations per year, with a SIXTEEN year old daughter with only TWO years of high school left need to be talking about Fertility Treatment???" Well, the short and very simple answer is, we're clearly crazy.
I have known since Lisa and I were just friends that someday she would want children. She just hadn't found anyone she wanted children with. Early on in our relationship, I suppose she realized what a great catch I was (HA) and we talked about the potential to have children together. Lisa is a great person. She's great with kids and is amazing with the one we already have but having a teenager, admittedly, I wasn't entirely sure this was a path we should take. However, Allyssa was not necessarily an only child by design – but more so out of necessity so had my own situation been different, it's very likely she wouldn't have been an only child. So after MUCH conversation, deliberation and the outright pleading from Allyssa (who until now has been perfectly happy being an only child) we have decided that we are going to add to our family.
That is where all of this fertility stuff comes in. We don't really have a fertility problem. Or at least we don't think we do. However we are lacking a small (but important) piece to the pregnancy puzzle and in the state of Georgia you can't just do that sort of thing on your own. So we decided to take some referrals for a reputable clinic and went to a consult to find out everything we needed to do. We made our appointment… and canceled our appointment…. And made another appointment… and almost cancelled that appointment but didn't.
The looming appointment had me on a street corner looking for Xanax. The day finally came and we actually went. We went in, surrounded by seemingly straight couples (you never really know do you??) and waited what seemed like forever. When we were finally called back I was somewhat surprised to see our doctor looked as though she had stepped right out of a Vogue Magazine – although she did have on a white coat. Our "dedicated" nurse (you get one nurse who is assigned to you so you always see the same nurse – which for the money, she should move in next door) looked much like someones grandmother and acted like one too. I half expected her to pull out some homemade cookies, but sadly she didn't. The doctor explained everything in a way that appeared on paper and in the drawing to be very simple, but really isn't. She was very nice, forthright and accommodating. I wanted to make sure that our being a gay couple wouldn't be a problem, so near the end of the consult I said, "We are a couple, (I think she may have laughed a little at the obviousness of my statement) and we want to make sure our doctor and the staff are comfortable with the situation." She assured us that this was nothing they hadn't seen before and that it was no different than any other couple trying to conceive. She gave us a list everything we needed to do between that visit and when we actually want to start trying to get pregnant. (Remember, I got pregnant the first time at seventeen ON birth control pills, trying NOT to get pregnant. Who knew there was SO much to do when you are trying TO get pregnant?!) They took what seemed like gallons of my blood and ran some other ridiculously uncomfortable tests – and it seems everything is still working the way it's supposed to.
So… now the quest has begun. We have all of the details… now we just need to find some suitable "samples" and we'll begin. Keep your fingers crossed.
Now you ask, "Why would two women, moderately successful in their respective fields, virtually debt free (except one mortgage) who take a minimum of two vacations per year, with a SIXTEEN year old daughter with only TWO years of high school left need to be talking about Fertility Treatment???" Well, the short and very simple answer is, we're clearly crazy.
I have known since Lisa and I were just friends that someday she would want children. She just hadn't found anyone she wanted children with. Early on in our relationship, I suppose she realized what a great catch I was (HA) and we talked about the potential to have children together. Lisa is a great person. She's great with kids and is amazing with the one we already have but having a teenager, admittedly, I wasn't entirely sure this was a path we should take. However, Allyssa was not necessarily an only child by design – but more so out of necessity so had my own situation been different, it's very likely she wouldn't have been an only child. So after MUCH conversation, deliberation and the outright pleading from Allyssa (who until now has been perfectly happy being an only child) we have decided that we are going to add to our family.
That is where all of this fertility stuff comes in. We don't really have a fertility problem. Or at least we don't think we do. However we are lacking a small (but important) piece to the pregnancy puzzle and in the state of Georgia you can't just do that sort of thing on your own. So we decided to take some referrals for a reputable clinic and went to a consult to find out everything we needed to do. We made our appointment… and canceled our appointment…. And made another appointment… and almost cancelled that appointment but didn't.
The looming appointment had me on a street corner looking for Xanax. The day finally came and we actually went. We went in, surrounded by seemingly straight couples (you never really know do you??) and waited what seemed like forever. When we were finally called back I was somewhat surprised to see our doctor looked as though she had stepped right out of a Vogue Magazine – although she did have on a white coat. Our "dedicated" nurse (you get one nurse who is assigned to you so you always see the same nurse – which for the money, she should move in next door) looked much like someones grandmother and acted like one too. I half expected her to pull out some homemade cookies, but sadly she didn't. The doctor explained everything in a way that appeared on paper and in the drawing to be very simple, but really isn't. She was very nice, forthright and accommodating. I wanted to make sure that our being a gay couple wouldn't be a problem, so near the end of the consult I said, "We are a couple, (I think she may have laughed a little at the obviousness of my statement) and we want to make sure our doctor and the staff are comfortable with the situation." She assured us that this was nothing they hadn't seen before and that it was no different than any other couple trying to conceive. She gave us a list everything we needed to do between that visit and when we actually want to start trying to get pregnant. (Remember, I got pregnant the first time at seventeen ON birth control pills, trying NOT to get pregnant. Who knew there was SO much to do when you are trying TO get pregnant?!) They took what seemed like gallons of my blood and ran some other ridiculously uncomfortable tests – and it seems everything is still working the way it's supposed to.
So… now the quest has begun. We have all of the details… now we just need to find some suitable "samples" and we'll begin. Keep your fingers crossed.
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