aaaallll aboard... next stop, adoption town!

ok... i'll admit it, my last post was a wee-bit on the woe-is-me side. i neglected to mention that we are in the middle of remodeling our bathroom so i have been "showering" (i use that term loosely) out of the kitchen sink for far too long. its making me a tad edgy. not to mention that we have been searching for a new toilet for like 2 months and cant seem to find one that wont require us to buy a step stool to climb on the damn thing!!

*stepping onto my soapbox*

if you have had the fortune of shopping for a toilet lately you might have noticed that almost every single one brags about being "comfort height". "comfort height" typically means that it is "chair height" or between 16 and 19 inches off the ground. naturally, since the average US woman is around 5 feet 4 inches tall, this whole "comfort height" business is little more than a tool of patriarchy. when MOST american women sit on a 17 inch toilet, their feet will barely touch the floor. now i aint no scientist but last time i checked, this position isnt exactly optimal deuce-dropping position. in fact, i think that "feet off the ground" comes in second only to "pooping while standing on your head". so, you can imagine my face when the agents-of-plumbing-patriarchy (aka homes depots workers) try to convince us to buy a "comfort height" toilet. if it wasnt for the hot dog stand outside in the parking lot, i might not have the strength to refrain from clawing their face off. i mean GOD FORBID men have to squat a little in order to sit on a lower toilet. *deep breath*

*stepping off the soapbox*

anywhoo... the point is that this whole bathroom remodel has diminished my level of patience. a few nights of sleep and a few really good conversations later, im feeling much better. and much more hopeful and much more excited.

cliff notes version: NM and i have decide to move forward with adoption. after 2 generous donations/loans from my mom and from 2 dear friends in town... we have the necessary funds to start our process. i would love to spend some time processing my feelings about the donations but i still cant really wrap my mind around it all without crying so ill wait for another post to address how amazing our friends and family are. seriously. i know you might think that your friends and family rock... but let me set the record straight and say that our community could TOTALLY kick your community's ass!

(it is now dawning on me that hyper-competition and threats of ass-kicking aren't really in line with the whole "community" spirit. im from jersey so aggression is our default love language. im learning and im sure your community is cool too.)

i digress...

the point is that we are back on the adoption train and the next stop is my first individual interview tomorrow morning. *fingers crossed* that i dont manage to find a way to get us kicked out of the agency. as long as she doesn't bring up "comfort height" toilets... i should be fine.

jump on board the roller coaster

i was sitting in a meeting today when the caller id on my phone lit up... "Call from: Adoption Dreams". needless to say, my mind began to race.... omg... the adoption agency is calling me... i wonder what they want... maybe they have a baby for us!!!... wait, that makes no sense. we arent even on the active list yet... oh! maybe they are ready to make us active!!.... what if they dont leave a message?.... maybe i should answer, like right now in the middle of this meeting.... no, that would be weird. ill wait. *tapping my fingernails on the desk* hurry up and stop talking.... i have a phone call to make!

aaand scene.

i went to NM's office and listened to the voicemail. it was a woman who we shall call M. she introduced herself as our "new caseworker" and i felt myself get excited. a caseworker?? ive never had one of those!

we called M back and she explained that we had reached the top of the waiting list and could now begin the process of becoming an active couple. yay!! the call that we have been waiting for!! she said we could swing by and pick up some papers and chat in person. we hopped in the car and drove right over!

M was very nice and walked us through a refresher of the process. she handed us a gigantic stack of papers to fill out and told us that the next steps include:
getting fingerprinted
submitting our tax returns
filling out personal paperwork
finding references
booking individual and a couple's interview

i was so excited in the meeting i could hardly keep it together. in a way it felt so surreal to actually be at this point. although i still really struggle with the idea that i might never get to experience pregnancy, above all else, i want to be a parent with NM. if adoption is the best option then im on board! she said that she would love to get us through the screening process in the next 4 weeks so that she could then start showing our portfolio to birth-moms. she pulled up her calendar and said that she is free this week to start the individual interviews. omg... can this be real!?

and then....

i asked about payment and fees.

*heavy sigh* i shoulda kept my mouth shut and simply enjoyed the moment.

she pulled out a list of fees and highlighted the ones that would need to be paid up front... as in, before we have our individual meeting ... as in, this week.

$500
$3500

holy shit.. thats like $4000! thank goodness for credit cards!

the rest of the fees add up to a little over $16,000 but can be paid once we are selected by a birth-mom. i took a sigh of relief and figured that we would just figure out a way to put the $3000 on a credit card and figure the rest out later.

me: "so this might be a silly question but... you take credit cards, right?"
M: "um, no. we only take checks."
me: "*forced smile* oh, ok... no problem. we just wanted to double check"
WHAT?! let me get this straight... we are gonna have to come up with $4,000 CASH in a week and $16,000 in a year?! thats impossible! im a sexual assault education coordinator for gods sake!

NM and i walked out to the parking lot and tried to process what just happened. i fought back tears and felt angry at myself for feeling hopeful. dont get me wrong, im not saying that we are poor or unable to afford a child. we just cant afford $16,000 cash in any given year! i thought we would be able to use credit and then take our time paying it back.

NM and i are pretty fiscally responsible people. we have one car payment and commute to work together. we purchased a house that was like $15,000 below our budgeted price, we dont shop very much, we dont pay for cable or other luxuries, we work really hard to pay off credit card purchases as soon as they are made and we both work well over 40 hours a week! we arent perfect but we work so hard to do the right things and still this goal feels out of reach. i mean even if we saved money away every month, it would be YEARS before we had enough collected to afford $16,000 for adoption.

*sigh*

im so frustrated i could just scream. and i feel like such a fool for allowing myself to get excited enough to start dreaming again. *grumble*

sometimes, being gay is annoying.

this is a TTC blog which means that there aint much to blog about when we arent T'ing TC. allow me to offer a brief update... still barren. out of sperm. currently #7 on the waiting-list-for-the-waiting-list for adoption. failed adoption attempt from within our community. still barren and out of sperm. cost of a vial went up to $600. conclusion: i have been self- diagnosed as financially infertile.

last week i sat down and began to type what would have been the first hopeful post since i started this damn thing 2 years ago. we received an email from a friend that seemed like it was going to be the answer to our prayers. ok, that's a lie since i dont pray.. but you get the point. the email was an official offer to donate sperm. translation: our friend is 100% willing to donate his sperm to us... for "no financial gain". how rare those three words are.

needless to say, NM and i were friggin elated. it was like christmas morning but without the christian references or midnight fireplace home invasion. i was beside myself with excitement over the potential that i might actually be able to try again. i found myself looking at my belly in the mirror, trying to picture what it will look like if it finally works this time. i felt my mind racing as i thought of all the cool moments that NM and i would get to share as my belly grew larger with our little person inside. i guess what im trying to say is, i felt hopeful. which, let me tell you, is not a common feeling for this east coast cynic.

as i mentioned in previous posts, NM and i have been pretty hard core anti-known donor. while we made the decision that we would only use an open donor, we didnt want the complexity and instability that can come...hee-hee, pun intended... with a known donor. we have had half-hearted conversations with friends about the idea of them donating to us... but in the end, we would never take them up on the offer because we really arent interested in all of the complexities that a known (local) donor can bring. not to mention the legal drama.

so, imagine our surprise when, after reading this email from our friend, we both looked at each other and said... "its perfect!". we replied to the email saying that we are super interested in chatting about the potential and then spent the entire weekend envisioning this picture perfect ending.

and then monday came.

and as mondays tend to do.. it shit all over our dream.

i decided to do a little research into what the process of a local/known donor would look like. NM and i both decided that if we used our friend's stuff, we were NOT interested in doing an ICI at home. we would kick it old school style...err, or maybe this would be new school style... *shrug* and do an IUI in the doctors office. this would require our donor to go make a deposit at a local cryobank where they would then wash out all the gross man stuff and leave us with vials of frozen swimmers.

i checked out the only local cryobank in the area and found the first hurdle. all known donors have to make a deposit and submit to a full physical and blood work. this seemed reasonable enough. especially since im not looking to catch any scratchy diseases after my narrow escape from the grips of the crack head nurse-with-hep. *whew!*

but then, i read further...

after the initial physical, donors then need to go back 180 days later for follow up tests... 180 days? thats like 2 months!! wait, *internal calculator*.... there are 30 days in a month times 2 would be 60 days and 60 times 2 is 180 so that would be like 4 months. FOUR MONTHS!? wait, that seems weird. 60 times 2 isnt 180, its 120 so that means that its like 5 months. wait, 80 minus 20 isnt 30... its 60... damn those NJ public schools... which means 2 months. so in total it would be 6 months. SIX MONTHS?!?! WE HAVE TO WAIT SIX MONTHS BEFORE WE CAN INSEMINATE??!!

i know, i know... this rule is in place to protect me and my future offspring from HIV which can take up to 6 months (which, if you didnt already know, is equal to 180 days) to show up. i get it. i appreciate it. thank you FDA.

i convinced myself that being pregnant is NOT more important to me than remaining HIV negative and decided to continue reading which brought me to buzz kill #2. Cost. the first round of blood tests and "physical" would cost us $615. then, 180 days later (which is 6 months, btw) we have to fork up $500 for a second physical and the second set of blood tests. $1100?!??! that's like 2 vials of CCB sperm!

which reminds me of a TTC joke. you are probably an infertile if.... you have stopped using dollars to track financial transactions and have instead begun to use the "how many vials could we get" system. "honey, can we get a new tv? it only costs 3 vials" ba-dump-bump.

i digress...

so at this point i realize that this is indeed another stupid racket aimed at making money off of desperate i-will-mortgage-my-house-in-pursuit-of-getting-pregnant people. which as you can imagine, doesnt calm me down one bit.

so then, i come across buzz kill #3 in the fine print: "the 2 physicals and blood tests can be waived if the recipient of the sperm is married to the donor".

wait.

back the truck up.

WHAT!??!

so basically, if i had entered into a patriarchal and heterosexist institution with our known donor, then the FDA wouldnt give a shit about protecting me or my offspring from HIV? if this dude wasnt already married, i would TOTALLY make him marry me just so we could give a big middle finger to the system. ggrrrr.

i checked to see if he could go to his own doctor for a physical and blood tests (which would be covered by his insurance) and of course the cryobank said no. which makes no damn sense. well i should clarify... in a society with predatory capitalism, it makes total sense but defies all logic.

so, here we sit.... at yet another road block. i cant even begin to express how stressful it is to have yet another omg!-this-might-be-the-answer moment come crumbling down. for so long we both said, "if only we could find a local donor". here we are, local sperm in hand...err, that's gross...you get the point, but we cant afford to take this route.

*kicking rocks*

i have never....

....been more sad about being barren as i am right now. TAKE A LOOK AT THIS THING!!

its called the baby keeper. you hang it over the bathroom stall door and it suspends your kid 3 feet in the air while you drop a deuce!

i swear... the second i have a kid in my life im gonna walk.... nay, im gonna RUN...to the store to buy this so i can continue my new commitment to no-shame-pooping!

(i wonder if they sell a package-deal that comes fully equipped with a baby inside. *fingers crossed!*)

i am woman, hear me _ O _ _!

man, it feels good to be back. like most folks, i have been traveling like cuh-ray-zee for the holidays and sadly i didnt have access to the internet while i was away. i have enjoyed spending the last few days getting caught up on everyone’s good (and sad *sigh*) news. *cyber hugs for all*

i thought about dedicating my first post of the new year to a list of things im looking forward to in the 360 days to come.... but that would be positive and optimistic and cheerful and then you all might think that barren lesbo was abducted over the holidays and this hack blogger is simply an impostor trying to infiltrate the TTC community (yes, im a conspiracy theorist. humpty dumpty was pushed.) so.... i decided to keep it real and start the year off right.

ok... first gripe of 2010... the use of the title “feminine hygiene products” for the section of the store that contains tampons and pads. “feminine hygiene”? seriously? as though our period is some dirty little habit that needs to be sanitized before it can come out and play safely with others. it should be called “female necessity products” or something less related to salad bars and subway benches.

next gripe... what is with the friggin cost of a box of tampons?? i mean come on! why is it that i can spend $1.99 on an ENTIRE MEAL (read: bun, beef, cheese, ketchup, pickles, onions, freedom...err, wait, bush is gone so i can say FRENCH fries, and 16 ounces of high fructose corn syrup) but i have to practically spend $12.00 on a wad of bleached (read: unhealthy for the vajay-jay) cotton and a dry ass cardboard applicator? and why is it even called an “applicator”? it doesn’t “apply” anything. it should be called an “inserter”, damnit.

*deep breath*

in 1978 gloria steinem wrote a piece for ms. magazine titled, “if men could menstruate”, where she playfully imagines how the culture around menstruation would change if men (the holders of social and political power) were the ones who bled every month. she argues that men would brag and boast about how long and how much they bled… even creating slang like “im a three pad man”. she argued that men’s menstruation would result in federal policy making all tampons and pads free.

i totally agree with her and in fact, i believe that menstruating men would never ever believe that bullshit we were told about only producing “2-3 tablespoons of blood during a menstrual cycle”. who are they fooling with that crap?? i swear, teenage menstruation manuals must have been written by buffoons because any woman knows that 2-3 tablespoons is total BS.


i want to yell, “listen, buddy. while your penis-wielding-ancestors were out there getting jobs and voting, my female ancestors were handcuffed to the kitchen. which means we became pretty damn good at approximating the size of a tablespoon. and after years and countless months of bleeding i think i might have a slightly better idea than you do about how much bleeding i do.” grrr. and to think they have the nerve to tell us, “it might seeeem like more than 2-3 tablespoons but trust us, its not”.

um, no. trust US… it is. jerks.


next gripe…female shame. wtf...women act like natural bodily functions are something for us to be ashamed of! and relax… im not about to go all second wave, flower-power, monthly-bleeding-is-a-beautiful-symbol-from-the-mother-goddess-of-your-fertility, on you. i am, after all, the barren lesbo. key word being barren.

all im saying is that i am sick and tired of the ways that we as women lower our voices when asking to borrow a tampon from a friend or do the secret drug transaction handshake when passing a pad across the table at a restaurant.

if men could menstruate they would let tampon strings hang proudly out of their back pockets… would puff out their chests and say, “shit bro… can i bum a rag off yah” *grabbing crotch and spitting* then they would saunter off to the men’s room and take care of business with their foot up on the urinal…. proud and public and for all the other men to see.

in fact, im surprised to hear that men’s bathrooms even contain stalls at all. men seem to brag about bathroom related topics all the time. “you should see how good my aim was!” or “man, i just dropped the kids off at the pool”. we women on the other hand are supposed to walk through this world acting like we don’t bleed and we certainly don’t poop. good lord, anything but that!

im amazed at the lengths we go to in an attempt to disguise what we do behind a closed bathroom stall door. seeecretly opening the tampon rubbish bin…careful not to rustle the paper bag which might notify all other patrons in the bathroom that we are in fact, bleeding. *gasp*someone get her some “hygiene products!”

we act like bandits trying to secretly open the bank safe without setting off the alarm alerting the female shame police. we painstakingly (and using only the veeery tip of our pinky finger) struggle to push open the lid… praying that the hinges on the receptacle are greased enough to allow for a totally silent deposit of our “waste”.

but then, on the other hand, in those panicked moments when we need to poop and cant hold it till we get home, we sit in the stall and alternate slamming open the tampon rubbish bin… rustling the paper bag… cough, cough, cough…. blowing of the nose…. looouuuddd yaaaawnnn…. cough, cough, cough….slamming the tampon rubbish bin lid again....all in an attempt to mask the sound of a “plop”.

the best public bathroom experiences are when we find ourselves 100% alone in a bathroom… nothing but vacant stalls as far as the eye can see. finally, after hours of holding in farts, we have the chance to free ourselves…. to drop our own kids off at the pool for a change. when suddenly… *gasp*… the stuff that nightmares are made of… the scrape of the main door, followed by the click-clack of women’s heels. we are no longer alone. we begin to sweat as we frantically try to figure out an exit strategy…

im sure she just has to pee… ill wait her out.
but what if she has to poop and decides to wait me out?
we could be in here for hours, waiting each other out.
if i take too long, the people at the table will for sure know that i came to the bathroom to poop.
then ill be forced to make up a lie, “aww, heck. those gosh darn lines in women’s bathroom” *forced roll of the eyes, cough*
no, ill just skip pooping and try to go again later
but what if i get back to the table and cant hold it? i certainly cant go to the bathroom TWICE in one dinner service! people will think i have to poop!
shit, what am i gonna do?!?

last week i was in a public stall peeing… hey, i swear, i was only peeing!... when a woman came in and sat in the stall next to me. apparently my stream of pee must have found the magical harry potter black hole because suddenly it stopped making the traditional pee-touching-water noise. there we were, in. total. silence. me suspended above the shitter silently peeing and panicking that she might think im trying to poop. i took a slight step forward and the sound returned to the water bowl. *wiping my brow* whew! disaster averted.

but then suddenly, i heard a strange noise next to me. a sound that i have never heard in a public restroom before. a straining of sorts that bordered on a full-fledged grunt. and then it happened… like the kick of a loud base drum… PLOP. followed by a beautiful concerto of ratta-tat-tat-tat and another plop.

that’s when i realized… holy crap (literally) this woman is totally pooping next to me... with no shame.

man, forget oprah.

this. is. my. new. hero.

so from now on i vow to use my grown up voice when asking to borrow a tampon… to open and slam the tampon receptacle with pride but only after actually depositing waste in there… to toot and grunt and refrain from masking plop sounds with synchronized coughs.

no more shame.

i am woman.
hear me poop.

like a paper cut between my fingers

i spent saturday afternoon at my first baby shower since the end of my TTC journey and all i can say is....woah. i have read other people's posts about how painful these events can be for folks who are struggling to get prego but good LORD... it felt i had given myself 10,000 paper cuts and then jumped into a giant vat of my own salty tears.

i should start by saying that the baby shower was awesome... it was co-ed, the food was great, the games were fun, the mom-to-be looked amazing, the dad-to-be was attentive and sweet, the rest of the guests were charming and fun to be around. if i weren’t such a barren, barren lesbo, i would have thought that the whole event was amazing. i should also say that i am TOTALLY happy for the expectant couple and i totally dig them as friends. so, this grumpy-bitter-woe-is-me diatribe has nothing to do with them or how happy i am for them.

ok, having gotten the formalities out of the way, let me get back to....

holy SHIT, that was painful!

not only were there images of babies everywhere (baby toys, baby shaped confetti, baby paper plates, baby napkins, baby wall decorations and even a handful of actual live babies) but even harder was that every friggin conversation was also about... you guessed it, babies!!

i stood in line for food between the mom-to-be and another pregnant lady and like a game of barren-monkey-in-the-middle, i bobbed and weaved between updates about the latest in maternity pants and anecdotes about supportive/unsupportive dads-to-be.

when the mom-to-be was opening gifts i found myself entranced again by "the belly". (see THIS post about belly dodging in the supermarket). NM was all, "babe, what are you looking at?" and i didn’t answer because i was transfixed by "the belly"...locked into an almost comatose stare, mouth agape and all. so she tried again, "babe...helloooo?...can you hear me?" and i was all, "oh, sorry... im just reeeeally interested in the gifts. *cough, nervous laugh*" and she was all, "i can see that. you look like you’re watching a football game or something. at least close your mouth"

i managed to dodge most of the fun baby themed games, much to the dismay of the first person who greeted me when i walked through the door.

baby shower attendee: here... *pushing a giant roll of crepe paper towards me* make a guess!
me: *reaching for my mace* err, make a guess about what?
baby shower attendee: you know silly, how big her belly is! rip off a piece of crepe paper that you think will fit perfectly around her belly.
me: that’s ok, ill pass.
baby shower attendee: you cant pass, everyone has to do it.
me: no, everyone doesn’t have to do it. so ill pass.
baby shower attendee: don’t be a party-pooper... take a piece of crepe paper!

(at this point a "glimpse-into-the-future" bubble appears over my head. i begin to envision the end of the game when all the women line up to wrap their "crepe paper guess" around the belly of the mom-to-be while the rest of the room cackles and laughs at how long -and thus way off- the guesses are. i can picture myself at the front of the line as i approach "the belly", i bend down and put my cheek against it, wrap my arms around the belly's mom and pull the crepe paper taut. i pull and pull at the crepe paper but i soon realize that i don’t even have enough to go half way around her. suddenly there is a *gasp* in the crowd and someone yells, "is to too short??" *sounds of shock in the audience* "but... nobody EVER takes too short of a piece. what’s WRONG with you?!", at which point i stand up and scream at the top of my lungs..."im a barren lesbo! how the HELL am i supposed to know how to accurately guess the size of a pregnant belly?!" *sobbing and exiting stage left*

baby shower attendee: helloo.... are you gonna take some, or what?

*glimpse-into-the-future bubble pops*

me: *gritting my teeth* i swear. you better. get that paper. outta my FACE!!! i already told you that I AINT PLAYING!

aaand...scene.

the only other game i had to participate in occurred while i was innocently eating my lunch at one of the round party tables. the center of the table had lots of yummy cookies, baby confetti sprinkled on the tablecloth and little plastic baby bottles with nuts and candies inside. one of the hosts asked everyone to grab a plastic bottle. we did. then she said, "now look inside and see if there is a baby!". i opened up my bottle and poured the contents out onto the table...frantically searching for a plastic baby. im sure the woman across from me was thinking, "man, she must really want that prize" but in that moment all i could think was, "find the baby. find the baby."

suddenly i heard yelling and cheering as the "winners" proudly held their plastic babies in the air. i looked down at my pile of nuts and candy and realized that my baby bottle party favor was a sad sad representation of my barren barren womb... empty.

*begin violin music*

fun with the 2009 target catalog

omg... my besties gave me a copy of the target toy catalog for 2009 and pointed out the front cover.

at first i thought it was just your typical run of the mill gender socialization propaganda...

white girl on the cover? check.

is she wearing pink? check.

is she wearing a tiara? check.

is she wearing a tutu? check.

is the tutu pink? check.

is she smiling? check.

is she playing with barbie? check.

is there a little boy in the image? check.

is he doing one of the following: making a mess, eating something or expressing anger? check.

ok, the basics are covered.

but upon further inspection, i realize that the barbie is holding Lego flowers.... and...wait a minute...are those church bells i see?! is that a priest/pastor/bishop/knight/pawn getting ready to perform a marriage?! (clearly i know very little about church officials...or the game of chess)

holy shit... that little boy isnt just upset because she is playing with his (read: a boy's) toy... he is mad because she is marrying them!

so not only do we have an image of a smiling white girl wearing a pink tutu and tiara playing with barbie while a little boy is expressing anger...but we can add heteronormative relationships and male aversion to marriage to the list. yay! the only things missing are caption bubbles:

as a silver lining i like to look at this image and imagine that the little boy is upset for other reasons...

or maybe the little boy is a radical activist:

the idea of the little boy being a big ol' queer or a radical activist was quickly squelched when i turned the page to find the following images....

page 18...

page 21...

*sigh*

thank god im barren and dont have to deal with toy catalogs.

life is good.

10 thangs i dig today. drum roll......

1. ginger molasses cookies from Pioneer Woman. i baked them last night and mmmm.... they turned out so good!

(these are not my cookies... i forgot to take a picture so i jacked this one from PW)

2. this video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cZfzch8vDo

3. this one too. it makes me want to quit my job and make videos like this for a living.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=17543732


4. ugly thrift store dresses. i recently bought a dress for $3.00 that NM thought i was planning to wear for halloween. imagine her surprise when i walked into the kitchen the other morning wearing the dress, ready for work. in her defense, i think the dress technically is an actual costume of some sort but since i cant figure out what the costume might be, i say "fair game!".

5. the blog Sociological Images. they have some really cool stuff on this site. check it out.

6. my dogs.

maddox doing circus tricks with follistim.

Gully rolling her eyes at me.

7. the movie Hard Candy. if you haven't seen it yet, rent it. now.

8. this picture of my mom. she was pregnant with me. my halloween costume for this year was supposed to look similar to this. NM said it was "bad taste" for me (barren lesbo) to dress as a pregnant woman for halloween but i disagree. if people can dress up like witches and fairies...then i should be able to dress up as something equally as imaginative and unrealistic!

9. bjork. whats not to love?

10. public transportation.

wouldnt you like to be a goddess too?

*peeking my head out from under my rock*


so.....its been a while. my last failed cycle proved to be much more difficult to cope with than i had anticipated. i have logged on many times with the full intention of posting something new, but i end up staring blankly at the screen. i didn't realize how much this blog was tied to my process of TTC. i mean, i always knew that writing and reading other blogs helped me with my past failed cycles but now that i have experienced my last attempt to get prego, i am realizing that it is hard to separate this blog from my feelings of disappointment. those of you who have struggled to get prego....you know the panic that sets in when you find yourself at opposite ends of the same grocery store aisle with a big ol' pregnant belly? even though the belly is undoubtedly attached to a human female person, all you see coming your way is a lush, fully functioning womb. your heartbeat races and you begin to have the internal dialogue that sounds something like this:
ok.
there is a pregnant belly
coming this way.
take a deep breath.
pay
attention
to the sale items.
dont stare at the belly
the lady attached will think you are strange
dont
stare
dont
stare
look at the cake mix
count the different types of icing
1- chocolate, 2- vanilla, 3- cream cheese
anything to
keep your eyes
off of
the
belly.

*sigh*

well that's kind of what this blog has started to feel like. i have spent so many hours day-dreaming about the days when i could post a photo of a BFP prego stick, or an updated photo from ultrasounds or a belly shot of my own. but, since i wont have that experience, i think i had to step away from this blog and heal a little.


i want to say thank you so much to all of you who posted such wonderfully supportive (and funny!!) comments on my last few posts. i know its a total no-no to go this long without reciprocation but please know that im keeping up with all of your developments (both happy and sad) and am working to get back on the "how to be a good blog community member" horse again.


i dont really have much to update today. im still barren and the world still sucks sometimes. NM and i teach a class together and we recently had a panel of guests come in to talk about parenting. some panel members are the parents of teens and some have young kids. some identify as fathers, some as adoptive moms and some as bio moms. it was fascinating to hear the differences in parenting as connected to social identities like race, class, gender and sexual orientation. "sexual orientation".... i hate that word. it sounds so nautical or something. like my "orientation" could be plotted on some graph or something. *shrug*.

anyway, i digress....

one panel member talked pretty explicitly about her thoughts about being pregnant and child birth. she spoke so freely and it seemed like the mere reflection on the past experience of pregnancy still fills her with energy. she said that being pregnant and giving birth reinforced the notion that "women are goddesses". *nod* it was a super cool moment.

and.... it made me lose my breath. i welled up and felt like i couldn't breathe. i guess i just want to be a goddess too.

i have realized that some of the most difficult parts of coping with infertility are those unexpected moments where the wave of emotion totally sneaks up on you and knocks you on your ass. its like being clotheslined by a giant pregnant belly or something. it sucks and i kinda cant wait for this phase of the infertility grieving process to be over.

im currently not sure about what to do with this blog in the future. it has been such a great source of support for me but im not sure how to transition out of a TTC mode and into something else. if i cant transition it comfortably away from being a TTC blog, then maybe its time to close up shop and start something new. we shall see. in the meantime...thanks again for the wonderful support.

oh... a friend shared this post from get born magazine and i loved it. check it out.

word.

little pink soldiers in my downstairs

i have a theory that relates to my infertility. it goes a little something like this...

i am convinced that past trauma coupled with my current work with victims of sexual assault creates the most hostile womb in the world for anything male. I think that when the doctors inseminate me with sperm, my body goes into attack mode and kills them all.

“put on your pink helmets, girls…. There is a whole school of perpetrators swimming this way!!! Kill them!!!”.

*sigh*

it sounds silly… but after 9 inseminations, I cant think of any other reason.