That first TWW, you're not prepared. Like I said in my last post, you analyse every little thing. The main thing? you're not prepared for the emotional rollercoaster.
I read alot over the first TWW abot other people's experiences, about their highs and lows, but it still can't prepare you.
Because you have to act like you ARE pregnant. All the precautions that you take during pregnancy, you have to take during those two weeks, just in case...
Cutting down caffeine, no raw fish, no soft cheese. So you do all this and you hope. And you become weirdly superstitous.
My DP and I were tentative about sharing our hope, each trying to ground the other without giving up our own hope. She would hold me, talk to me, say wonderful things like "Even if it doesn't work, we've taken the first step, that's what counts". We held each other, but that first time, our fear stopped us from being as honest as we should at times. So we talked about that too. I needed to let her in to the rational side of the process more, and she needed to let me in to her emotions. We held each other again. We don't want to be one of those lesbian couples who end up hating eachother going through this process. We ended up more in love than ever, more honest than ever.
I took a test too early, of course it was negative. I got spotting 3 days before my period was due, which never happens to me. I took another test. It was negative. I got my period. Nothing prepares you for how sad you get then. Having spent nearly two weeks living as though you'd conceived, imagining it inside you, picturing your partner holding it. I know why people on the forums call menstruation The Witch. I know why we all flock to these websites, to hold on to hope for as long as possible.
In the end the first time didn't work and that's ok, it wasn't meant to be then, and that's ok. We've done it, we never have to have the first TWW again. And I'm more in love than ever.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Two Week Wait, wait, what?
Oh the things you don't know before you start trying to conceive (TTC). I mean, firstly, the sheer range of weird acronyms people on the net use to refer to things, But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I think the main thing I didn't realise was the extent to which I would obsess. A pain in my right boob? Was that normal? Or a potential sign of successful conception? I just could NOT stop thinking about it, and I wasn't prepared for that.
In an effort to releive my strained mind I started going through the interwebs when I came accross the term "Two Week Wait".
Suddenly I found all these people in the same boat as me, people who spent every waking moment for 14 days thinking about one thing. Something that connected me to them through our shared experience.
As a queer there really aren't many of my friends (if any) who I can share this with. It's not that no queers have kids, of course they do, but it's not expected, we're not all at the same point, not all getting married, not all the same age even. as queers we're bought together through politics and sexuality, not our life stage.
Now I love my community, but there are simply no other people going through what we are.
So finding a whole bunch of people on the internet doing what I was (more or less) was comforting. So I was NOT a weirdo for thinking about the potential baby non-stop, for analysing each little potential symptom.
I started reading wonderful posts by people who had diligently recorded every symptom and ended up pregnant. "WOW, she got pregnant and she had a stuffy nose in the first week, <u>I</u> have a stuffy nose!"
These are people who share the most intimate details of their body and mind, who talk about their cervical mucus and how they cried for hours when they get their period. People who wish everyone BABY DUST to all their comrades, and give positive wishes to all.
But the funny thing is the acronyms. In order to discuss all the gory details acronyms have come in to talk about things without really talking about them.
The old cervical mucus? That would be CM. Sore boobs? I think you mean sore BBs. EWCM? Egg white Cervical Mucus, prime CM for baby making. BFP? Big Fat Positive. What do you call it when you get your period? AF, or Aunt Flo. Also referred to as The Witch.
I read a wonderful post about this very issue on Offbeat Mama:
Why I hate parenting acronyms
Which looks at how the acronyms reinforce the feeling of belonging.
Of course there had to be one for sex, you CAN'T talk about sex. I figured it was BD, because people would write things like "OPK (ovulation planning kit) positive, going to do BD with DH (dear Husband) tonight" BD? What on earth could that stand for? Turns out it means "Baby Dance".
And I guess everything starts revolving around the potential baby. Sex is not sex, it's the Baby Dance.
In that way I'm lucky being queer, in order to try to conceive we need a little help, sex will never be only about baby making, but that sounds like a post for another day.
So until next time, GL TTC and ***BABY DUST** to all
I think the main thing I didn't realise was the extent to which I would obsess. A pain in my right boob? Was that normal? Or a potential sign of successful conception? I just could NOT stop thinking about it, and I wasn't prepared for that.
In an effort to releive my strained mind I started going through the interwebs when I came accross the term "Two Week Wait".
Suddenly I found all these people in the same boat as me, people who spent every waking moment for 14 days thinking about one thing. Something that connected me to them through our shared experience.
As a queer there really aren't many of my friends (if any) who I can share this with. It's not that no queers have kids, of course they do, but it's not expected, we're not all at the same point, not all getting married, not all the same age even. as queers we're bought together through politics and sexuality, not our life stage.
Now I love my community, but there are simply no other people going through what we are.
So finding a whole bunch of people on the internet doing what I was (more or less) was comforting. So I was NOT a weirdo for thinking about the potential baby non-stop, for analysing each little potential symptom.
I started reading wonderful posts by people who had diligently recorded every symptom and ended up pregnant. "WOW, she got pregnant and she had a stuffy nose in the first week, <u>I</u> have a stuffy nose!"
These are people who share the most intimate details of their body and mind, who talk about their cervical mucus and how they cried for hours when they get their period. People who wish everyone BABY DUST to all their comrades, and give positive wishes to all.
But the funny thing is the acronyms. In order to discuss all the gory details acronyms have come in to talk about things without really talking about them.
The old cervical mucus? That would be CM. Sore boobs? I think you mean sore BBs. EWCM? Egg white Cervical Mucus, prime CM for baby making. BFP? Big Fat Positive. What do you call it when you get your period? AF, or Aunt Flo. Also referred to as The Witch.
I read a wonderful post about this very issue on Offbeat Mama:
Why I hate parenting acronyms
Which looks at how the acronyms reinforce the feeling of belonging.
Of course there had to be one for sex, you CAN'T talk about sex. I figured it was BD, because people would write things like "OPK (ovulation planning kit) positive, going to do BD with DH (dear Husband) tonight" BD? What on earth could that stand for? Turns out it means "Baby Dance".
And I guess everything starts revolving around the potential baby. Sex is not sex, it's the Baby Dance.
In that way I'm lucky being queer, in order to try to conceive we need a little help, sex will never be only about baby making, but that sounds like a post for another day.
So until next time, GL TTC and ***BABY DUST** to all
The First Donor
So I guess that's one of the first things a lesbian couple has to work out after they've decided to have a baby, where do we get sperm?
As mentioned in my previous post, after having little success with friends we decided to go with a donor off a donor dating website.
He was tall, smart, a chemical engineer, artistic. He had a beard, and he responded to our mail quickly.
We'd been up the coast visiting my partner's family, spending time with our gorgeous nephews. When he responded to our emails I knew we were going to be cutting it fine in terms of getting back home in time for ovulation.
I got home and peed on a stick pretty much straight away and, sure enough, there was the second line. I emailed him again with our number and explained that that very evening was time to try. He called me back and we arranged a time.
My partner (DP to borrow TTC parlance) and I flew into a frenzy, making sure we had the legal forms, making sure the hall and bathroom were tidy. We locked the dogs in the lounge and kept the bedroom closed.
DP got out a couple of men's mags and put them in the bathroom along with a sterile sample jar. As a joke we alslso put in a science magazine. You have to have a sense of humour I think, especially with something that is actually quite hilarious.
So he turns up at the door at the appointed time and he was polite, shorter than we'd hoped, but still tall.He was kind as we did the paper work before we left him in the bathroom to do his thing.
We went back to the loungeroom to wait. And wait. And wait.
A few times DP goaded me to go up and ask if he needed a hand, being that I've been with men and they haven't I get teased about it at times (in good humour, of course :-) ). In the end it took over an hour, we didn't question it, neither of us really know how it works and I'm sure he would have been nervous.
Hilariously the science mag had been read and the porn mags were pretty much untouched.
After he left we tried to make a baby (I won't give too many of the sordid details). We held eachother after and quietly hoped, feeling how in love we are, how much we want it, how we share our hope.
Despite the science being completely inconclusive at best or proving that it doesn't make a lick of difference at worst, I still propped my hips on a pillow to tilt my pelvis and let gravity help the swimmers on their journey. Of course I needed to pee, I had to wait though. And the hilariously biological journey began.
As mentioned in my previous post, after having little success with friends we decided to go with a donor off a donor dating website.
He was tall, smart, a chemical engineer, artistic. He had a beard, and he responded to our mail quickly.
We'd been up the coast visiting my partner's family, spending time with our gorgeous nephews. When he responded to our emails I knew we were going to be cutting it fine in terms of getting back home in time for ovulation.
I got home and peed on a stick pretty much straight away and, sure enough, there was the second line. I emailed him again with our number and explained that that very evening was time to try. He called me back and we arranged a time.
My partner (DP to borrow TTC parlance) and I flew into a frenzy, making sure we had the legal forms, making sure the hall and bathroom were tidy. We locked the dogs in the lounge and kept the bedroom closed.
DP got out a couple of men's mags and put them in the bathroom along with a sterile sample jar. As a joke we alslso put in a science magazine. You have to have a sense of humour I think, especially with something that is actually quite hilarious.
So he turns up at the door at the appointed time and he was polite, shorter than we'd hoped, but still tall.He was kind as we did the paper work before we left him in the bathroom to do his thing.
We went back to the loungeroom to wait. And wait. And wait.
A few times DP goaded me to go up and ask if he needed a hand, being that I've been with men and they haven't I get teased about it at times (in good humour, of course :-) ). In the end it took over an hour, we didn't question it, neither of us really know how it works and I'm sure he would have been nervous.
Hilariously the science mag had been read and the porn mags were pretty much untouched.
After he left we tried to make a baby (I won't give too many of the sordid details). We held eachother after and quietly hoped, feeling how in love we are, how much we want it, how we share our hope.
Despite the science being completely inconclusive at best or proving that it doesn't make a lick of difference at worst, I still propped my hips on a pillow to tilt my pelvis and let gravity help the swimmers on their journey. Of course I needed to pee, I had to wait though. And the hilariously biological journey began.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
First post, the journey begins
Ok, technically, not the START of my journey, it's the second month.
But let's start at the beginning, and come up to now.
After having discussed it and looked into our options for a fair few months, my amazing partner and I decided to jump into the deep end and just start trying. I guess leading up to that point there were so many options - IVF or home based AI? My partners egg in my womb, or mine? When we finally decided to go with the easiest option of home-based AI (AI is artificial insemination, by the way, so anything other than natural insemination, or "when a cis-man and a cis-woman love eachother very much..." the good ol' turkey baster = AI), we then had to look at who would be a donor for us.
We were both adamant that we want a donor who would not be involved, it's important to both of us that our children are OURS, not mine and some guys and my partner is just someone who helps me raise them, OURS. We didn't want someone who wanted to be an uncle, someone who wanted to see the kid regularly, all we wanted was some sperm in a cup.
Initially we asked a couple of friends, I may tell that story some day but for now, let's just say it was a bit of a bust.
So in the end we went with the idea of finding a donor we didn't know through one of what I like to call the "Donor Dating Website", because they're like dating websites except all the single men are looking to give their sperm to someone, and most of the women already have partners...
Finding the right donor
We had some basic criteria our potential donor should meet. Firstly they needed to be tall. Why? Because I'm not, I'm 5'3" and getting a tall donor would give our kid the best possible chance of being not as short as me. My partner is also quite tall so the child would be like them in that way.
Secondly they needed to want a closed donation, no "Uncle with a secret", no "tell me when you've given birth" no "send me drawings they've done at school", just do your thing in the receptacle provided. No rights, no responsibilities.
Thirdly, they have to be smart. My partner and I are both incredibly intelligent (yup, modesty doesn't suit those of us who are this clever...), and let's face it, no one would wish to have a child who is a dullard.
So we started trawling the "dating" site, narrowing our search to people 5'10" and above, giving preference to men with beards because, well, we like beard and even though that's not a genetic trait, well, they just make us smile.
Some of the people we contacted didn't reply, others weren't suitable.
We gave it a rest for a couple of months, christmas and new year gave us enough to think about, then whilst visit my partner's two young nephews we decided to just throw ourselves into it. We re-trawled the site, found a tall bearded man and sent a message. He responded nearly straight away.
I had been tracking my cycle to a certain extent so knew it was just about ovulation time and when we got home I peed on a stick (little did I know how routine peeing on sticks would become...). Sure enough the little line that signals ovulation appeared and we asked him to come around that night.
Although that night was 'technically" the start of the journey, it really started before then, there's so much preparation that goes into it.
Prenatal vitamins (which are the MASSIVE, and you have to take two different pills a day, ugh ugh ugh), peeing on sticks to track ovulation, and all the emotional preparation, the talks, the looks, the crying every time you see your partner holding a baby (in private... mostly)
Next post I will give you all the wonderful and hilarious details of our first donor experience, until then, in the words of TTC bloggers everywhere ***BABY DUST ***
But let's start at the beginning, and come up to now.
After having discussed it and looked into our options for a fair few months, my amazing partner and I decided to jump into the deep end and just start trying. I guess leading up to that point there were so many options - IVF or home based AI? My partners egg in my womb, or mine? When we finally decided to go with the easiest option of home-based AI (AI is artificial insemination, by the way, so anything other than natural insemination, or "when a cis-man and a cis-woman love eachother very much..." the good ol' turkey baster = AI), we then had to look at who would be a donor for us.
We were both adamant that we want a donor who would not be involved, it's important to both of us that our children are OURS, not mine and some guys and my partner is just someone who helps me raise them, OURS. We didn't want someone who wanted to be an uncle, someone who wanted to see the kid regularly, all we wanted was some sperm in a cup.
Initially we asked a couple of friends, I may tell that story some day but for now, let's just say it was a bit of a bust.
So in the end we went with the idea of finding a donor we didn't know through one of what I like to call the "Donor Dating Website", because they're like dating websites except all the single men are looking to give their sperm to someone, and most of the women already have partners...
Finding the right donor
We had some basic criteria our potential donor should meet. Firstly they needed to be tall. Why? Because I'm not, I'm 5'3" and getting a tall donor would give our kid the best possible chance of being not as short as me. My partner is also quite tall so the child would be like them in that way.
Secondly they needed to want a closed donation, no "Uncle with a secret", no "tell me when you've given birth" no "send me drawings they've done at school", just do your thing in the receptacle provided. No rights, no responsibilities.
Thirdly, they have to be smart. My partner and I are both incredibly intelligent (yup, modesty doesn't suit those of us who are this clever...), and let's face it, no one would wish to have a child who is a dullard.
So we started trawling the "dating" site, narrowing our search to people 5'10" and above, giving preference to men with beards because, well, we like beard and even though that's not a genetic trait, well, they just make us smile.
Some of the people we contacted didn't reply, others weren't suitable.
We gave it a rest for a couple of months, christmas and new year gave us enough to think about, then whilst visit my partner's two young nephews we decided to just throw ourselves into it. We re-trawled the site, found a tall bearded man and sent a message. He responded nearly straight away.
I had been tracking my cycle to a certain extent so knew it was just about ovulation time and when we got home I peed on a stick (little did I know how routine peeing on sticks would become...). Sure enough the little line that signals ovulation appeared and we asked him to come around that night.
Although that night was 'technically" the start of the journey, it really started before then, there's so much preparation that goes into it.
Prenatal vitamins (which are the MASSIVE, and you have to take two different pills a day, ugh ugh ugh), peeing on sticks to track ovulation, and all the emotional preparation, the talks, the looks, the crying every time you see your partner holding a baby (in private... mostly)
Next post I will give you all the wonderful and hilarious details of our first donor experience, until then, in the words of TTC bloggers everywhere ***BABY DUST ***
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