She: Will you be home before 6:30?
Me: It doesn't look good- I'm closing up at work tonight.
She: That's too bad... I miss you, I'd like to see you before I go.
Me: I'll see you later at Bobbie P's b-day party... enjoy the concert.
She: I will. Tell everyone I said 'hi.'
Me: Will do. Tell E I said 'hi.'
She: Okay. Love you.
Me: You too... wait, can you do me a favor and try to find out what that song is that we heard on the radio yesterday? I'd like to download it.
She: sure!
I arrive home to a note that is full of sweet nothings and a, "itunes is all cued up for you," but I only have enough time to whip the Ruben dip together and get over to the peeps' for birthday partying... I ignore the computer until I come home. I'm exhausted. It's been a long week. She's not home yet, but I am headed to bed, too tired to wait up. I go to shut the computer off and itunes is indeed cued up: "Boston" by Augustana. I thought that would be the name of the song. I click on play and think, "I should find the lyrics while I listen." I restore the browser that's been minimized to find this...
The woman knows me well.
I am well loved.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
back in the saddle
I know I've been a little MIA lately, but I'm back in the saddle. I promise to comment on more important things, like, say, the fact that SHE'S HAVING MY BABY!!! But in the meantime, you should check this video out. No seriously. Laughing so hard I had tears running down my face. The best part is when the dad starts to crack up quietly. Hi-freakin-larious.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Just try OB and you'll see
Kt and I had our second prenatal appointment yesterday.
We found our lady-parts-doctor on the recommendation of two nursing friends who don't know each other at all- I met these two RNs in different parts of the state, at different jobs, during very different eras of my life. I've kept in touch with and trust them both and when each heard we were pregnant, she declared an unprompted, name-specific recommendation that we use this particular OB/GYN.
One of them said, "You will Love, LOVE, LOVE her!"
The other said, "She is so wonderful, I Love, LOVE, LOVE her!"
We were then told two separate times: She is kind, smart, and a black, lesbian! with a great bedside manner. I peppered my straight friends with the type of harassment they've come to expect from me,
"Are you only telling me this because I'm gay?"
(stammering: "Huh? no, I thought...")
"Do you have personal, carnal knowledge of this lesbianism?"
("Ha, ha, very funny, T")
"Well, how do you know that she's black?"
("are you joking" stares.)
Katy and I went to YSN and have some fantabulous Midwifery peeps. The program at Yale is crazy competitive and the (mostly) women that gain admission are (with few exceptions) delightfully friendly, impressively cool, insanely smart, gentle, funny, strong, and - Tonja aside - of Amazonian height. (Not sure why this matters, but unless you went to YSN when we did, you can't believe the combined height of these graduates... even Tonja couldn't lower the vertical average.) Secondly, I work at a health center that is known for their amazing midwifery practice. And while we also know wonderful Women's health doctors, we were leaning toward trying to find a nurse midwifery practice.
After the friendly teasing, our general reaction about the prospect of Dr. KindSmartBlackLesbian was, "SAY NO MORE."
On our first meeting I was struck by how stressful it is to meet a new provider- even one that comes highly recommended. We arrived 15 minutes early and by the time we were seen, (10 minutes late) I had hives. I can't help but think that the anxiety was compounded by the fact that we are a "non-traditional couple" and are about to "come out" to a group of strangers. Even though I know most people are totally stressed and strung out at their first prenatal appointment, I bring this aspect up because it is invisible and omnipresent. Because it is a part of the lived experience of being gay that I'm sure can never be adequately explained, and that katy and I cover up and hide perhaps a little too well.
I pretty much function with a confident, internal voice: "I am healthy and normal, and so is my wife, and so is my life... and I will not take on the bullshit of anyone that can't cope with those facts." But still, there is something terrifying that happens (no matter how gregarious a being you are) when you leave the warm cocoon of house and home that you have painstakingly spun to keep yourself protected. It becomes complicated to separate regular, normal, average fear and anxiety in everyday, average, stressful, or even mundane scenarios (like a trip to the DMV or a prenatal appointment) from the anxiety and fear of discrimination, gay baiting, or gay bashing. I work hard to live a normal life and be mentally healthy in a society that will hold a vote or open debates as to whether or not I am a god-hated deviant that should be legally oppressed. I strive to live openly and honestly without apology, but i've learned that you have to keep all the lights and computers burning in a tiny "situation room" in your mind and heart, at least unconsciously expecting the unexpected:
- An anonymous bible-banger hurling a slur and openly commenting on your prospects for a comfortable afterlife in the supermarket you only stopped at to procure tissues and NyQuil. The messenger of god's opinion was inspired to preach when you absentmindedly brushed the feverish forehead of your sweet love who was feeling very sickie that day.
- A fat, unattractive 11 yr old sees you holding hands while walking thru the center of town and stops licking her double dip cone to stare at you and say, "That makes me sick," without the slightest fear that you will take her over your knee and beat the living snot out of her.
- A cousin writes a 2 page tome to you the week before your wedding to tell you all the reasons that she "loves" you and is "not homophobic" but cannot come to the wedding because it is against her beliefs and her god... (Hey, next time just actually send the RSVP card... a lot of people check the "no, thanks" box without further explanation.)
Staffing the hate-crimes sit room inside of me is part of standard operating procedure. But every now and again, I start to wonder (Like FEMA in the federal government) how much energy does that center drain from the budget, power grid, and productivity of my existence.
But I digress:
That first OB appointment was delightful. We liked Dr. KSBL, but were initially disappointed at the absence of technology. Having spent most of our time with infertility specialists that are as likely to do a vaginal ultrasound or a blood draw as they are to own a luxury automobile, we were anticipating having radiological evidence of the embryo that we conceived seemingly out of witchcraft and sorcery. When she did a pelvic exam to "measure my uterus" I was like, "What?!? We get the only provider left in America that doesn't want to soak my insurance company for a few extra ultrasound up-codes?!?" It seemed like utter nonsense, and incomplete care until we noted later that having an MD that seemed to "trust" the baby was kind of nice. (And wasn't technology what we were pretty proud of having avoided with this conception... and isn't this a little like having a "non-interventional" midwife who can also preform a c-section if it ever came to that???)
Dr. KSBL did a great job that first meeting of talking to us both before and after the appointment- making sure I was not in a state of nakedness in either case. I could see where she got her reputation for a good bedside manner. In her effort to be personable and put us at ease, she did everything but juggle fire and make balloon animals. She spent about 20 minutes warming up her stethoscope before placing it on my chest. And then said, "I hope that's not too cold." This gesture seemed a little over-the-top to me, and I wanted to grab katy's iced-temperatured hand and place it under her shirt so she knew the types of temperatures I could withstand. (Please, what kind of weak, ball-sac did she take me for?)
Yesterday's appointment was primarily to hear the heartbeat via Doppler. Truth be told, my friends at Fair Haven helped katy and I hear the heartbeat a few weeks ago, so this was a formality. But because we both wanted to be there, we made our appointment for 11:15- when katy would not have to cancel patients. By that point in the day, the office was in full "we're a little behind schedule" mode. This time, secretly hoping it would help us get seen sooner, we arrived 25 minutes early, and we were let in the room 15 minutes late. After peeing in a cup and weighing in, we waited another 10 minutes. By the time Dr KSBL entered, we were both starting to freak out a little about getting back to work late. Dr KSBL started her normal, personable, "Hey guys, what's shaking??? How are you? Tell me everything..." routine, we wanted to grab her and shout, "ENOUGH WITH THE SMALL TALK, LET'S GET IT ON." It was fortunate I had heard the sweet, quiet, rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the heartbeat prior to this visit, because otherwise, my German-Irish temperament might have come thru too clearly, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? ALL THIS WAITING FOR THAT??? THAT'S ALL YOU GOT FOR ME???"
I kept my mouth closed and secretly checked the time as I buttoned back up. Dr. KSBL made a quick balloon unicorn for Katy and congratulated her by offering closed fist for kt to "punch it in." (Yes, Dr. Brokeback, I. SHIT. YOU. NOT... a tactic I would have not fully understood if you had not written about it in your recent hilarious post!)
All in all, we are very happy and feel very lucky. The baby's got a beating heart, which - judging from my taskiness and distractedness when hearing it (a moment that supposedly brings expectant moms to tears, but made me yawn and check my watch) I should be happy that s/he is ALREADY more human than me... I'm like a pregnant tin (wo)man. I guess it is still a little abstract for me to grasp. But one thing I know, is this bean is also already starting to bring out the best in katy and me- Joy is recently more easy to stumble on even in average, annoying, and/or boring moments. And we've laughed more together in the last few weeks than it seems like we have in years.
We found our lady-parts-doctor on the recommendation of two nursing friends who don't know each other at all- I met these two RNs in different parts of the state, at different jobs, during very different eras of my life. I've kept in touch with and trust them both and when each heard we were pregnant, she declared an unprompted, name-specific recommendation that we use this particular OB/GYN.
One of them said, "You will Love, LOVE, LOVE her!"
The other said, "She is so wonderful, I Love, LOVE, LOVE her!"
We were then told two separate times: She is kind, smart, and a black, lesbian! with a great bedside manner. I peppered my straight friends with the type of harassment they've come to expect from me,
"Are you only telling me this because I'm gay?"
(stammering: "Huh? no, I thought...")
"Do you have personal, carnal knowledge of this lesbianism?"
("Ha, ha, very funny, T")
"Well, how do you know that she's black?"
("are you joking" stares.)
Katy and I went to YSN and have some fantabulous Midwifery peeps. The program at Yale is crazy competitive and the (mostly) women that gain admission are (with few exceptions) delightfully friendly, impressively cool, insanely smart, gentle, funny, strong, and - Tonja aside - of Amazonian height. (Not sure why this matters, but unless you went to YSN when we did, you can't believe the combined height of these graduates... even Tonja couldn't lower the vertical average.) Secondly, I work at a health center that is known for their amazing midwifery practice. And while we also know wonderful Women's health doctors, we were leaning toward trying to find a nurse midwifery practice.
After the friendly teasing, our general reaction about the prospect of Dr. KindSmartBlackLesbian was, "SAY NO MORE."
On our first meeting I was struck by how stressful it is to meet a new provider- even one that comes highly recommended. We arrived 15 minutes early and by the time we were seen, (10 minutes late) I had hives. I can't help but think that the anxiety was compounded by the fact that we are a "non-traditional couple" and are about to "come out" to a group of strangers. Even though I know most people are totally stressed and strung out at their first prenatal appointment, I bring this aspect up because it is invisible and omnipresent. Because it is a part of the lived experience of being gay that I'm sure can never be adequately explained, and that katy and I cover up and hide perhaps a little too well.
I pretty much function with a confident, internal voice: "I am healthy and normal, and so is my wife, and so is my life... and I will not take on the bullshit of anyone that can't cope with those facts." But still, there is something terrifying that happens (no matter how gregarious a being you are) when you leave the warm cocoon of house and home that you have painstakingly spun to keep yourself protected. It becomes complicated to separate regular, normal, average fear and anxiety in everyday, average, stressful, or even mundane scenarios (like a trip to the DMV or a prenatal appointment) from the anxiety and fear of discrimination, gay baiting, or gay bashing. I work hard to live a normal life and be mentally healthy in a society that will hold a vote or open debates as to whether or not I am a god-hated deviant that should be legally oppressed. I strive to live openly and honestly without apology, but i've learned that you have to keep all the lights and computers burning in a tiny "situation room" in your mind and heart, at least unconsciously expecting the unexpected:
- An anonymous bible-banger hurling a slur and openly commenting on your prospects for a comfortable afterlife in the supermarket you only stopped at to procure tissues and NyQuil. The messenger of god's opinion was inspired to preach when you absentmindedly brushed the feverish forehead of your sweet love who was feeling very sickie that day.
- A fat, unattractive 11 yr old sees you holding hands while walking thru the center of town and stops licking her double dip cone to stare at you and say, "That makes me sick," without the slightest fear that you will take her over your knee and beat the living snot out of her.
- A cousin writes a 2 page tome to you the week before your wedding to tell you all the reasons that she "loves" you and is "not homophobic" but cannot come to the wedding because it is against her beliefs and her god... (Hey, next time just actually send the RSVP card... a lot of people check the "no, thanks" box without further explanation.)
Staffing the hate-crimes sit room inside of me is part of standard operating procedure. But every now and again, I start to wonder (Like FEMA in the federal government) how much energy does that center drain from the budget, power grid, and productivity of my existence.
But I digress:
That first OB appointment was delightful. We liked Dr. KSBL, but were initially disappointed at the absence of technology. Having spent most of our time with infertility specialists that are as likely to do a vaginal ultrasound or a blood draw as they are to own a luxury automobile, we were anticipating having radiological evidence of the embryo that we conceived seemingly out of witchcraft and sorcery. When she did a pelvic exam to "measure my uterus" I was like, "What?!? We get the only provider left in America that doesn't want to soak my insurance company for a few extra ultrasound up-codes?!?" It seemed like utter nonsense, and incomplete care until we noted later that having an MD that seemed to "trust" the baby was kind of nice. (And wasn't technology what we were pretty proud of having avoided with this conception... and isn't this a little like having a "non-interventional" midwife who can also preform a c-section if it ever came to that???)
Dr. KSBL did a great job that first meeting of talking to us both before and after the appointment- making sure I was not in a state of nakedness in either case. I could see where she got her reputation for a good bedside manner. In her effort to be personable and put us at ease, she did everything but juggle fire and make balloon animals. She spent about 20 minutes warming up her stethoscope before placing it on my chest. And then said, "I hope that's not too cold." This gesture seemed a little over-the-top to me, and I wanted to grab katy's iced-temperatured hand and place it under her shirt so she knew the types of temperatures I could withstand. (Please, what kind of weak, ball-sac did she take me for?)
Yesterday's appointment was primarily to hear the heartbeat via Doppler. Truth be told, my friends at Fair Haven helped katy and I hear the heartbeat a few weeks ago, so this was a formality. But because we both wanted to be there, we made our appointment for 11:15- when katy would not have to cancel patients. By that point in the day, the office was in full "we're a little behind schedule" mode. This time, secretly hoping it would help us get seen sooner, we arrived 25 minutes early, and we were let in the room 15 minutes late. After peeing in a cup and weighing in, we waited another 10 minutes. By the time Dr KSBL entered, we were both starting to freak out a little about getting back to work late. Dr KSBL started her normal, personable, "Hey guys, what's shaking??? How are you? Tell me everything..." routine, we wanted to grab her and shout, "ENOUGH WITH THE SMALL TALK, LET'S GET IT ON." It was fortunate I had heard the sweet, quiet, rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the heartbeat prior to this visit, because otherwise, my German-Irish temperament might have come thru too clearly, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? ALL THIS WAITING FOR THAT??? THAT'S ALL YOU GOT FOR ME???"
I kept my mouth closed and secretly checked the time as I buttoned back up. Dr. KSBL made a quick balloon unicorn for Katy and congratulated her by offering closed fist for kt to "punch it in." (Yes, Dr. Brokeback, I. SHIT. YOU. NOT... a tactic I would have not fully understood if you had not written about it in your recent hilarious post!)
All in all, we are very happy and feel very lucky. The baby's got a beating heart, which - judging from my taskiness and distractedness when hearing it (a moment that supposedly brings expectant moms to tears, but made me yawn and check my watch) I should be happy that s/he is ALREADY more human than me... I'm like a pregnant tin (wo)man. I guess it is still a little abstract for me to grasp. But one thing I know, is this bean is also already starting to bring out the best in katy and me- Joy is recently more easy to stumble on even in average, annoying, and/or boring moments. And we've laughed more together in the last few weeks than it seems like we have in years.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
This is so WACK!
On my lunch break, I'm trolling the web a little and I stumble onto a blog that has a baby ticker that looks like this:
I think it is all very intriguing, but kind of too... well, how to put this... fetus fundamentalist. It looks kind of gross to me, mostly because I associated it with a bad "anti-choice" ad. See how those abortion-clinic-bombers have poisoned my mind??? Even a re-creation of my own Bean seems somehow propaganda-licious and ickey.
Maybe some of you are like, "T, I think you are the wacked one... look what a beautiful gift from God that pregnancy ticker is..." and to that I say,
"Hmmm, Okay. What about this:"
You can shove up to 10 babies in there!!! Is that okay??? Is that normal??? Is that a beautiful vision???
No.
It is not.
It makes me think people love fetuses a little too much.
Fetuses and dogs...
As a beautiful and talented diva-turned-addict once said:
It is not right, but it's okay, I'm gonna make it anyway.
I think this could be amusing to check in on, but I can't bring myself to post it in the sidebar. So I am going to make this post available under "Posts that explain some things."
Swim tight- little, on-line reproductions of fetal growth... we'll see you on the flip side!
I think it is all very intriguing, but kind of too... well, how to put this... fetus fundamentalist. It looks kind of gross to me, mostly because I associated it with a bad "anti-choice" ad. See how those abortion-clinic-bombers have poisoned my mind??? Even a re-creation of my own Bean seems somehow propaganda-licious and ickey.
Maybe some of you are like, "T, I think you are the wacked one... look what a beautiful gift from God that pregnancy ticker is..." and to that I say,
"Hmmm, Okay. What about this:"
You can shove up to 10 babies in there!!! Is that okay??? Is that normal??? Is that a beautiful vision???
No.
It is not.
It makes me think people love fetuses a little too much.
Fetuses and dogs...
As a beautiful and talented diva-turned-addict once said:
It is not right, but it's okay, I'm gonna make it anyway.
I think this could be amusing to check in on, but I can't bring myself to post it in the sidebar. So I am going to make this post available under "Posts that explain some things."
Swim tight- little, on-line reproductions of fetal growth... we'll see you on the flip side!
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Health
I'm sickie.
Not pregnancy sickie.
Coughing, aching, stuffy head, sore throat, post nasal drip... sickie.
I can't take anything except Tylenol because I don't want the bean to get all fucked up.
I'm drinking water and trying to sleep without choking to death on my own mucus.
It's no goodie.
T.T. no like-y
Not pregnancy sickie.
Coughing, aching, stuffy head, sore throat, post nasal drip... sickie.
I can't take anything except Tylenol because I don't want the bean to get all fucked up.
I'm drinking water and trying to sleep without choking to death on my own mucus.
It's no goodie.
T.T. no like-y
Home
Got home from the trip and cleaned the kitchen...
It started out a normal, wash-the-dishes-in-the-sink kind of cleaning, but by the end, it morphed into a Pull-out-the-stove, get-on-your-hands-and-knees-to-scrub-the-floor-by-hand cleaning.
There was a 2 hour window where i wasn't thinking about my sore throat or ear ache at all;
and I think the mop-and-glow acted a little like a nasal decongestant/ cough suppressant.
I do this about 2 times per year. Usually, I limp around for 2 days after - due to back and knee soreness.
It (the kitchen) really needed it. I guess I needed it too.
It started out a normal, wash-the-dishes-in-the-sink kind of cleaning, but by the end, it morphed into a Pull-out-the-stove, get-on-your-hands-and-knees-to-scrub-the-floor-by-hand cleaning.
There was a 2 hour window where i wasn't thinking about my sore throat or ear ache at all;
and I think the mop-and-glow acted a little like a nasal decongestant/ cough suppressant.
I do this about 2 times per year. Usually, I limp around for 2 days after - due to back and knee soreness.
It (the kitchen) really needed it. I guess I needed it too.
Personal
This weekend, we went to NY with the softball team/ book club.
As promised, it was a relaxing weekend full of yummy food, cards, dice, puzzles, trivia, games, and lots of laughter. These friends are not germ-phobic at all and would rather you come sick as opposed to not at all. And they also don't seem to mind that this is my 3rd consecutive book club that I have attended without having read the book.
As promised, it was a relaxing weekend full of yummy food, cards, dice, puzzles, trivia, games, and lots of laughter. These friends are not germ-phobic at all and would rather you come sick as opposed to not at all. And they also don't seem to mind that this is my 3rd consecutive book club that I have attended without having read the book.
Professional
Fair Haven Community Health Center celebrated it's 35th anniversary at a Gala event on Friday night. Everyone looked great and there were some amazing people in the room. I'm lucky to work with many of them. My boss told a story about the clinic's opening that has stuck with Katy and me. A feasibility study was done which basically said, "This endeavor (opening up a health center to care for this New Haven community) will not be successful." Due to the lack of available resources and other obstacles, a recommendation was made that the funding this "project" would be futile. But the committee decided (for the sake of the volunteers) to "fund it anyway."
35 years, 130 FTE's, and a 10 million dollar annual budget later, we're still fighting the good fight.
Several times since Friday night, Katy has squeezed my hand with a misty tear in her eye(s) and whispered, "fund it anyway." I can't say I'm sure what she means - I think it extends beyond Fair Haven and has rooted as some symbolic slogan in her psyche. Perhaps she has a grand scheme that I am unaware, or wants to increase our charitable giving. But I read it to mean that optimism and kindness (the kind she exhibits daily) is it's own reward... And folks that lean toward cynicism (like me) ought to learn a thing or two.
Political
Gay Marriage is on the legislative agenda again in CT.
Last Monday, there was public testimony for bill #7395, An Act Concerning Marriage Equality.
Testimony began at 12 noon. I listened to a little at work and then came home and watched on line until the end (after 11pm). There is some room for honest disagreement here, but there are some wack jobs out there. I could not justify taking the day off work to go testify, and this issue affects me DIRECTLY. If I had taken the day off, I'm not entirely sure I would have lasted the 8-12 hours necessary to speak my mind for the 3 allotted minutes. But still there were opponents of the measure, who have such a strong interest and desire in keeping Kt and I from getting "married" that they thought it was perfectly rational to wait all day to "testify" about what God intended (so nice to have an inside view of the Creator's mind) and the damage that would be inflicted on society if we open a legal term and contract to all citizens.
There were a few priceless moments, and there are hardly any politicos who speak as succinctly on the issue as one of my favorite funny ladies: Wanda Sykes. She basically says:
1) The government should not be involved in this.
2) If you don't believe in same sex marriage, don't get married to someone of the same sex.
3) The biggest threat to marriage is not same sex marriage, it is divorce.
Her entire album is hilarious, you can hear clips here.
If you live in CT and you want to support this bill, write or call your Legislators. Also, contact the governor's office (M.Jodi Rell has promised to veto any marriage equality bill the legislature passes.) For extra measure, consider donating time or money to Love makes a family - these people are tireless and brave in their efforts to win some rights for my family.
Last Monday, there was public testimony for bill #7395, An Act Concerning Marriage Equality.
Testimony began at 12 noon. I listened to a little at work and then came home and watched on line until the end (after 11pm). There is some room for honest disagreement here, but there are some wack jobs out there. I could not justify taking the day off work to go testify, and this issue affects me DIRECTLY. If I had taken the day off, I'm not entirely sure I would have lasted the 8-12 hours necessary to speak my mind for the 3 allotted minutes. But still there were opponents of the measure, who have such a strong interest and desire in keeping Kt and I from getting "married" that they thought it was perfectly rational to wait all day to "testify" about what God intended (so nice to have an inside view of the Creator's mind) and the damage that would be inflicted on society if we open a legal term and contract to all citizens.
There were a few priceless moments, and there are hardly any politicos who speak as succinctly on the issue as one of my favorite funny ladies: Wanda Sykes. She basically says:
1) The government should not be involved in this.
2) If you don't believe in same sex marriage, don't get married to someone of the same sex.
3) The biggest threat to marriage is not same sex marriage, it is divorce.
Her entire album is hilarious, you can hear clips here.
If you live in CT and you want to support this bill, write or call your Legislators. Also, contact the governor's office (M.Jodi Rell has promised to veto any marriage equality bill the legislature passes.) For extra measure, consider donating time or money to Love makes a family - these people are tireless and brave in their efforts to win some rights for my family.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Introduction of "The Bean"
It's been hard blogging lately for several reasons:
1) Extreme Exhaustion
2) Feeling pensive, not witty
3) Don't know how to chit chat without revealing the big secret.
The blog is about to change.
Life is about to change...
There are still people that we haven't told in person who we feel we should tell in person, but I can't really keep it in anymore. So if you are finding out about this on the blog, and you are inclined to think that you should have gotten a phone call or a personal visit, I apologize. In terms of an explanation and a show of remorse, I can only refer you to reason #1 at the top of the page... I am a very tiredyoung woman.
Actually, I'm not tired so much as pregnant.
There. I said it.
Just about 12 weeks along. Due around October 11th. Queasy and tired, but otherwise doing great. Both moms are very excited and "the bean" as we have begun referring to our newly formed fetus is... well s/he is not saying much yet, but my uterus is stretching and the journey begins.
About this time last year, Katy and I were contemplating an IVF cycle after seven failed attempts at insemination with frozen donor sperm. I was seeing a very kind and adorable infertility doctor who put me on clomid and progesterone, and at least once time, injectibles to drive my ovulation. I was getting vaginal ultrasounds 4-7 times per month and blood drawn more often. It didn't seem that bad at the time, but it was a roller coaster of angst. We took some time off from the planning to put our house back in order and around New Year's 2007 started discussing a plan to continue the baby-making quest.
We knew we had one more shot on ice and thought we could A) use that last dose for IVF which had an excellent chance of success for someone like me with supposedly healthy eggs and no obvious "real" infertility issues. Or we could B) Do one more insemination cycle with tall, skinny, anonymous donor boy (tsadb) and then look for some new - hopefully more talented - tadpoles.
We were about to call the cute MD, when we decided on a cheaper solution: Were we to "liberate the swim team" and give it our best shot at home, we could... you know... Do it the "old fashioned way"... in the bedroom... the... um... proverbial and stereotypical "turkey baster" method.
I never thought it would work. And clearly neither did Katy, b/c she let me drink for two consecutive weekends until day-12, post-insemination, I started to feel a little... nauseous.
Seven to ten positive pee sticks later we were like, W.T.F?!? Who could have written this episode and expected the public to buy it???
At that point, my wife started to strut a little. I mean, seriously, can you blame her? Sorry Dr-cutie-pie with all the fancy technology... my girl knows her way around a cervix.
blink.
blink.
blink.
Anyway, we threw this annoying tease out there early in the month. What they have in common is that those are the foods that baby center.com uses to compare the size of an embryo to in the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th week of gestational life.
FAQs:
1) No, we do not know the gender - it's too early.
2) No, we are probably not going to find out the gender until the delivery
3) Yes, really.
4) Yes, we realize this will make "shopping and decorating" more difficult
5) No, we do not have a name picked out.
6) Yes, our parents and families are very excited.
Will keep you posted! (obviously.)
PS- if you run into my dad's mom, just be aware, I haven't gotten over there to tell her yet, and she doesn't have internet access... And she doesn't know I'm gay... Just kidding, of course she knows I'm gay- she was at the wedding... but she's not much of a cook and doesn't know a thing about turkey basters. I think I might just let her think the doctor was successful... hmm, lots of things to figure out still...
1) Extreme Exhaustion
2) Feeling pensive, not witty
3) Don't know how to chit chat without revealing the big secret.
The blog is about to change.
Life is about to change...
There are still people that we haven't told in person who we feel we should tell in person, but I can't really keep it in anymore. So if you are finding out about this on the blog, and you are inclined to think that you should have gotten a phone call or a personal visit, I apologize. In terms of an explanation and a show of remorse, I can only refer you to reason #1 at the top of the page... I am a very tired
Actually, I'm not tired so much as pregnant.
There. I said it.
Just about 12 weeks along. Due around October 11th. Queasy and tired, but otherwise doing great. Both moms are very excited and "the bean" as we have begun referring to our newly formed fetus is... well s/he is not saying much yet, but my uterus is stretching and the journey begins.
About this time last year, Katy and I were contemplating an IVF cycle after seven failed attempts at insemination with frozen donor sperm. I was seeing a very kind and adorable infertility doctor who put me on clomid and progesterone, and at least once time, injectibles to drive my ovulation. I was getting vaginal ultrasounds 4-7 times per month and blood drawn more often. It didn't seem that bad at the time, but it was a roller coaster of angst. We took some time off from the planning to put our house back in order and around New Year's 2007 started discussing a plan to continue the baby-making quest.
We knew we had one more shot on ice and thought we could A) use that last dose for IVF which had an excellent chance of success for someone like me with supposedly healthy eggs and no obvious "real" infertility issues. Or we could B) Do one more insemination cycle with tall, skinny, anonymous donor boy (tsadb) and then look for some new - hopefully more talented - tadpoles.
We were about to call the cute MD, when we decided on a cheaper solution: Were we to "liberate the swim team" and give it our best shot at home, we could... you know... Do it the "old fashioned way"... in the bedroom... the... um... proverbial and stereotypical "turkey baster" method.
I never thought it would work. And clearly neither did Katy, b/c she let me drink for two consecutive weekends until day-12, post-insemination, I started to feel a little... nauseous.
Seven to ten positive pee sticks later we were like, W.T.F?!? Who could have written this episode and expected the public to buy it???
At that point, my wife started to strut a little. I mean, seriously, can you blame her? Sorry Dr-cutie-pie with all the fancy technology... my girl knows her way around a cervix.
blink.
blink.
blink.
Anyway, we threw this annoying tease out there early in the month. What they have in common is that those are the foods that baby center.com uses to compare the size of an embryo to in the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th week of gestational life.
FAQs:
1) No, we do not know the gender - it's too early.
2) No, we are probably not going to find out the gender until the delivery
3) Yes, really.
4) Yes, we realize this will make "shopping and decorating" more difficult
5) No, we do not have a name picked out.
6) Yes, our parents and families are very excited.
Will keep you posted! (obviously.)
PS- if you run into my dad's mom, just be aware, I haven't gotten over there to tell her yet, and she doesn't have internet access... And she doesn't know I'm gay... Just kidding, of course she knows I'm gay- she was at the wedding... but she's not much of a cook and doesn't know a thing about turkey basters. I think I might just let her think the doctor was successful... hmm, lots of things to figure out still...
Saturday, March 24, 2007
525,600 minutes
Dear Mac,
You're a year old! Yesterday was your birthday, and you spent most of this week with a bad fever, home from day care, breathing heavy, slumped over the shoulder of any of us that got to hold you. You kept your mommy and daddy up because they brought you to their bed at night, and they think you might need your own queen-sized bed for all the moving and twirling around in your sleep that you do. For most of your life so far, you have been a fantastic sleeper! Your parents have kept the bedtime routine pretty standard and it seems to have worked for you. After a bottle and round of goodnight hugs, they put you in your crib, rub your head & back, tell you they love you, and you sleep for the next 10 to11 hours.
It's impossible to think about this last year without thinking of you. And it's nearly as difficult to believe we didn't know you before last year. You have brought so much joy, warmth, and causes to celebrate. I joke that we (Nana, Grandpa, Mommy, Daddy, Aunt Katy, and I) used to get together and chit-chat with one another... now it seems like we get together to sit around and look at you. It's not that we are so obsessed (though some of us are) or that you are particularly special (though, really, you are) it's more that no one wants to miss your firsts. A year goes by fast, and the opportunity to see all that happens to a being in the first year of life holds us transfixed. Your mom said it best when she said about this year, "It wasn't exactly slow, but it didn't exactly fly by either." There was a lot going on all year and your parents handled the adjustments amazingly well- making it seem much easier than I think it was.
We have all done our best not to rush you: When you were a sleeping newborn, not to wish for the time when you would open your eyes and smile. When you were barely mobile, not to wish for you to crawl. I'm still practicing that now as you seem so on-the-verge of language. You have different syllables, different inflections, different levels of urgency and I remind myself to listen and appreciate this phase instead of letting my thought skip to, "I can't wait until you can talk." You recently got moved to the "one-year-old" room in day care, and your mommy told me that when she picked you up, you pointed and grunted and motioned to various things in the new room, wordlessly showing her your new place and the new things it contained.
I think it was around Thanksgiving that you first seemed to understand "a joke". If you heard all of us laughing, you would make a hardy "fake laughing" noise and then glance toward the crowd to see if anyone agreed. We laughed at your adorableness, and then you peeled into genuine giggles.
You have lightened up the world a little, especially for those of us that love you. Grandma Bella has found a little more of her smile because of you. And I swear, sometimes I see Bean's mischievousness in your expressions.
You will never understand the way you changed Nana and Grandpa/Papa (we're still not sure of his name) because you never knew them before. They express themselves in different ways, and wear their hearts on their sleeves, especially around you. They gape and paw at you, caress and stroke you. You break their hearts wide open 6-12 times a week with your hugs and gestures, and stares and giggles and coos. I always think of them as very task oriented and able to do many things at the same time, but they stop time for you and focus in a way that is very endearing to witness.
Your daddy is the bomb. It's no secret that I think your daddy is funny (hilarious) and smart (mostly as evidenced by his marrying your mommy) but he is humble and quiet in his pride of you. He doesn't need to boast or brag- you are YOU and that speaks volumes. You and he are buddies. When you were tiny and would cry while sitting in his arms watching TV, he would turn to you and say, "I know, that (fill in CNN commentator's name) upsets me too, honey." Your daddy is a full time daddy! And you two spend many nights alone together while mommy is away on business. He knows what you like and what you don't and impresses us all with the way he has seemed pleased, but otherwise non-phased at all by the addition of you to his and mommy's life.
Your mommy has also not really changed at all, and yet, become a completely different person. I guess that's a confusing thing to say, but these transformations can be complex and I have seen new parents change so much that you hardly recognize them as the people they were. That's not really the case with your parents. It has been informative and heartwarming to watch them both struggle with decisions that require imagining, debating, and balancing what is best for you.
Aunt Katy and I nicknamed your mom "Zen Mommy" because something about carrying you inside her and having you in her life after your birth made her more present. She became a little softer, more willing to compliment and encourage others (without losing her comedic timing and her witty edge). She shares you quite selflessly- she has this inner confidence and strength that keeps her from needing to be the only one that can comfort you. Sometimes when you fall or cry, she gives you encouragement from an arm's length away and lets you comfort yourself. Sometimes when you are exhausted and falling apart she lets one of us soothe you. It's not that her instincts aren't intact- that she doesn't want to tear down walls to make sure you are safe and secure. It's that she knows that your needs to learn to self-soothe or take comfort from others are as important as her need to always be there for you.
Katy and I have felt lucky to watch and learn from you and your parents. We want you to know that where ever life takes you, we will always be there for you. We will help you find your own path, and encourage, support, and (when appropriate) carry you.
We can't wait to see what happens this next year! We love you very much.
Tracy and Katy
You're a year old! Yesterday was your birthday, and you spent most of this week with a bad fever, home from day care, breathing heavy, slumped over the shoulder of any of us that got to hold you. You kept your mommy and daddy up because they brought you to their bed at night, and they think you might need your own queen-sized bed for all the moving and twirling around in your sleep that you do. For most of your life so far, you have been a fantastic sleeper! Your parents have kept the bedtime routine pretty standard and it seems to have worked for you. After a bottle and round of goodnight hugs, they put you in your crib, rub your head & back, tell you they love you, and you sleep for the next 10 to11 hours.
It's impossible to think about this last year without thinking of you. And it's nearly as difficult to believe we didn't know you before last year. You have brought so much joy, warmth, and causes to celebrate. I joke that we (Nana, Grandpa, Mommy, Daddy, Aunt Katy, and I) used to get together and chit-chat with one another... now it seems like we get together to sit around and look at you. It's not that we are so obsessed (though some of us are) or that you are particularly special (though, really, you are) it's more that no one wants to miss your firsts. A year goes by fast, and the opportunity to see all that happens to a being in the first year of life holds us transfixed. Your mom said it best when she said about this year, "It wasn't exactly slow, but it didn't exactly fly by either." There was a lot going on all year and your parents handled the adjustments amazingly well- making it seem much easier than I think it was.
We have all done our best not to rush you: When you were a sleeping newborn, not to wish for the time when you would open your eyes and smile. When you were barely mobile, not to wish for you to crawl. I'm still practicing that now as you seem so on-the-verge of language. You have different syllables, different inflections, different levels of urgency and I remind myself to listen and appreciate this phase instead of letting my thought skip to, "I can't wait until you can talk." You recently got moved to the "one-year-old" room in day care, and your mommy told me that when she picked you up, you pointed and grunted and motioned to various things in the new room, wordlessly showing her your new place and the new things it contained.
I think it was around Thanksgiving that you first seemed to understand "a joke". If you heard all of us laughing, you would make a hardy "fake laughing" noise and then glance toward the crowd to see if anyone agreed. We laughed at your adorableness, and then you peeled into genuine giggles.
You have lightened up the world a little, especially for those of us that love you. Grandma Bella has found a little more of her smile because of you. And I swear, sometimes I see Bean's mischievousness in your expressions.
Your daddy is the bomb. It's no secret that I think your daddy is funny (hilarious) and smart (mostly as evidenced by his marrying your mommy) but he is humble and quiet in his pride of you. He doesn't need to boast or brag- you are YOU and that speaks volumes. You and he are buddies. When you were tiny and would cry while sitting in his arms watching TV, he would turn to you and say, "I know, that (fill in CNN commentator's name) upsets me too, honey." Your daddy is a full time daddy! And you two spend many nights alone together while mommy is away on business. He knows what you like and what you don't and impresses us all with the way he has seemed pleased, but otherwise non-phased at all by the addition of you to his and mommy's life.
Your mommy has also not really changed at all, and yet, become a completely different person. I guess that's a confusing thing to say, but these transformations can be complex and I have seen new parents change so much that you hardly recognize them as the people they were. That's not really the case with your parents. It has been informative and heartwarming to watch them both struggle with decisions that require imagining, debating, and balancing what is best for you.
Aunt Katy and I nicknamed your mom "Zen Mommy" because something about carrying you inside her and having you in her life after your birth made her more present. She became a little softer, more willing to compliment and encourage others (without losing her comedic timing and her witty edge). She shares you quite selflessly- she has this inner confidence and strength that keeps her from needing to be the only one that can comfort you. Sometimes when you fall or cry, she gives you encouragement from an arm's length away and lets you comfort yourself. Sometimes when you are exhausted and falling apart she lets one of us soothe you. It's not that her instincts aren't intact- that she doesn't want to tear down walls to make sure you are safe and secure. It's that she knows that your needs to learn to self-soothe or take comfort from others are as important as her need to always be there for you.
Katy and I have felt lucky to watch and learn from you and your parents. We want you to know that where ever life takes you, we will always be there for you. We will help you find your own path, and encourage, support, and (when appropriate) carry you.
We can't wait to see what happens this next year! We love you very much.
Tracy and Katy
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Wide eyed
I've been up for 2 hrs cruising the Internet- mostly looking at other blogs- it's amazing where you can wind up when you click from friends to blogs they read, to blogs they read, to blogs they read. I'm a whore for words and this is the Internet porn I could never have imagined.
I am awake right now because this is the new thing... I wake up at 2 or 3 am with my bladder about to burst, cross-eyed in discomfort b/c it feels like I haven't pee'd in 2 weeks. I almost always bang into walls or furniture in the darkness b/c I'm dizzy, disoriented and can't function until I get the urine out. Then I stumble back into bed and lay there.
Exhausted, I just lay there.
I wait, and sleep evades me...
I attempt meditation, relaxation techniques, body scans, counting sheep, prayer...
I toss, turn, and sigh.
My brain is tired, my body is tired, my newly stubbed toe is throbbing, but my bladder is empty and still, I can't just fall back to sleep.
Two nights ago, I was awake for 2 hours. Last night it was at least that long. Tonight, I got up and turned on the computer after 20 minutes.
Babies, babies, babies on my mind.
Some of our best friends from college have been busy this week:
L and F labored for 72 hours before Amaya finally showed up (with the tiniest bit of surgical intervention.)
LAC delivered her little girl a little after 9pm last night: 3 to 10 hours earlier than i predicted.
Ben and Mackenzie are about to turn one.
March has become very heavily associated with baby production in my mind,
and in my body.
I am awake right now because this is the new thing... I wake up at 2 or 3 am with my bladder about to burst, cross-eyed in discomfort b/c it feels like I haven't pee'd in 2 weeks. I almost always bang into walls or furniture in the darkness b/c I'm dizzy, disoriented and can't function until I get the urine out. Then I stumble back into bed and lay there.
Exhausted, I just lay there.
I wait, and sleep evades me...
I attempt meditation, relaxation techniques, body scans, counting sheep, prayer...
I toss, turn, and sigh.
My brain is tired, my body is tired, my newly stubbed toe is throbbing, but my bladder is empty and still, I can't just fall back to sleep.
Two nights ago, I was awake for 2 hours. Last night it was at least that long. Tonight, I got up and turned on the computer after 20 minutes.
Babies, babies, babies on my mind.
Some of our best friends from college have been busy this week:
L and F labored for 72 hours before Amaya finally showed up (with the tiniest bit of surgical intervention.)
LAC delivered her little girl a little after 9pm last night: 3 to 10 hours earlier than i predicted.
Ben and Mackenzie are about to turn one.
March has become very heavily associated with baby production in my mind,
and in my body.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Spousal (lack of) Support
I came home last night and made 2 chicken dinners. The first- BBQ chicken on the Grill- I threw away even though I almost froze my ass off, cooking it in -5 degree wind-chill factors. It looked really good, but it had been marinating for 2 days, and though our homemade BBQ sauce usually smells tangy, I was convinced it was spoiled.
The second chicken dinner attempt was a box of sodium-filled, Betty Crocker Complete Meals: Chicken and Buttermilk biscuits. I bought this nightmare in an unfortunate but unavoidable GSWF episode. (GSWF= Grocery Shopping While Famished). I put the boxed meal in the cart thinking, "this is probably delicious." The final product was not delicious. It was... gross. And while I couldn't bear to put my second and final attempt at a home cooked meal in the trash, I Glad-boxed it and tucked it in the fridge to-be-discarded later.
I had finished my bowl of cheerios when Katy came home looking rather green. I asked her if she wanted something to eat (making my way to the kitchen to sniff the BBQ chicken in the trash- not sure how I would explain this possibly irrational move.) The wife gripped her abdomen, and groaned in what I took to mean "I'll be foregoing dinner this evening." Taking a moment to push the wasted food deeper in the trash, I turned to ask about her day, but in those 60 seconds, she laid on the couch and fell asleep. It was 8pm.
I nudged her at 8:10 to ask if she was okay. A part of me was sincerely concerned, but another, less-compassionate part of me noted that her stuttered moaning was making me feel queasier than the salmonella scare had an hour before. I figured if she was gonna eewuke, maybe the cold tile on the bathroom floor would feel more soothing against her feverish flesh than the warm upholstery. She nodded unconvincingly and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I sat down beside her and woke at 8:35- apparently the narcolepsy was contagious. I felt perturbed, not only by my extreme fatigue but also by the UConn Women's BBall championship game (the white noise of basketball gives me agita- i only watch televised games as a demonstration of marital commitment.) I wondered why we were still tuned in since my bride was again fast asleep. I changed to a TiVo'd Discovery Channel Special and promptly fell back into slumber.
At 8:46, we moved to the bed, said our "i love you's" and did not speak again until 7am. I slept soundly through her burning and twitching and groaning and moaning, but in the light of day her complexion was the only update on her condition that I required. I knew 90 minutes before she did that she wouldn't be participating in work today.
Poor sickly, Boo... it's not just that GI bugs are so completely horrible (which they are.) It's that
1) GI bugs make you worry that you have an undetected, horrible, awful disease; or that you will some day die a horrible, awful death... you might even have the mental strength to remind yourself not to be overly-dramatic, but you just can't help worry that death is near... and
2) GI bugs do something to your loved ones that make them take a self-protective step back... I love you, but please do not breathe on me... And please don't touch me... don't even think of kissing me... And please do not touch my pillow... do not look in the direction of my pillow... wouldn't you feel more comfortable sleeping on the couch...
Poor sweet, lonely Boo.
The second chicken dinner attempt was a box of sodium-filled, Betty Crocker Complete Meals: Chicken and Buttermilk biscuits. I bought this nightmare in an unfortunate but unavoidable GSWF episode. (GSWF= Grocery Shopping While Famished). I put the boxed meal in the cart thinking, "this is probably delicious." The final product was not delicious. It was... gross. And while I couldn't bear to put my second and final attempt at a home cooked meal in the trash, I Glad-boxed it and tucked it in the fridge to-be-discarded later.
I had finished my bowl of cheerios when Katy came home looking rather green. I asked her if she wanted something to eat (making my way to the kitchen to sniff the BBQ chicken in the trash- not sure how I would explain this possibly irrational move.) The wife gripped her abdomen, and groaned in what I took to mean "I'll be foregoing dinner this evening." Taking a moment to push the wasted food deeper in the trash, I turned to ask about her day, but in those 60 seconds, she laid on the couch and fell asleep. It was 8pm.
I nudged her at 8:10 to ask if she was okay. A part of me was sincerely concerned, but another, less-compassionate part of me noted that her stuttered moaning was making me feel queasier than the salmonella scare had an hour before. I figured if she was gonna eewuke, maybe the cold tile on the bathroom floor would feel more soothing against her feverish flesh than the warm upholstery. She nodded unconvincingly and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I sat down beside her and woke at 8:35- apparently the narcolepsy was contagious. I felt perturbed, not only by my extreme fatigue but also by the UConn Women's BBall championship game (the white noise of basketball gives me agita- i only watch televised games as a demonstration of marital commitment.) I wondered why we were still tuned in since my bride was again fast asleep. I changed to a TiVo'd Discovery Channel Special and promptly fell back into slumber.
At 8:46, we moved to the bed, said our "i love you's" and did not speak again until 7am. I slept soundly through her burning and twitching and groaning and moaning, but in the light of day her complexion was the only update on her condition that I required. I knew 90 minutes before she did that she wouldn't be participating in work today.
Poor sickly, Boo... it's not just that GI bugs are so completely horrible (which they are.) It's that
1) GI bugs make you worry that you have an undetected, horrible, awful disease; or that you will some day die a horrible, awful death... you might even have the mental strength to remind yourself not to be overly-dramatic, but you just can't help worry that death is near... and
2) GI bugs do something to your loved ones that make them take a self-protective step back... I love you, but please do not breathe on me... And please don't touch me... don't even think of kissing me... And please do not touch my pillow... do not look in the direction of my pillow... wouldn't you feel more comfortable sleeping on the couch...
Poor sweet, lonely Boo.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
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