The Children, part 2

Back in May, I wrote a post about our alternative lifestyle. It prompted a question which I started to answer here, here, and here.

Onwards to... part four, or two, depending on how you look at it.


Eighteen months of charting, picking a donor, is it too early to pick up the sample?, the sperm bank is closed on Sunday's, do we have enough dry ice to keep it frozen if we got it too early?, ovulation predictor kits, charting, temperature, mucus, waiting, waiting, waiting. At some point we consulted the MD's and did some more interventions, clomid entered the scene at some point and then there may have been a different drug, vaginal ultrasounds... The frustration at being unable to conceive, wishing, hoping, dreaming... Consulting baby name books, wondering what the baby would look like, figuring out the due date, trying not to talk about it, or be obsessed with 'trying', constantly. Each month passed with nothing but bleeding and dashed dreams.

As we got further and further into the process we started talking about the fact that this was one area in our lives that we were lucky we were two women. If it didn't work for Käri we had a built in back up plan, me. So after eighteen months, we jumped off the roller coaster.

My turn. My cycle was more predictable, temperature more reliable, and signs of ovulation were more obvious. We had high hopes that I could conceive. There was a period of letting the dust settle- to grieve the loss of Käri being unable to conceive and gather the energy to begin the ride again. We both felt ready after a few months off, and in the Spring of '95, started again. It's hard, now, to recall those feelings of anticipation and wanting, exactly. When I think back, what I feel is overwhelmed and how 'getting pregnant', conceiving a child, became everything. The doubts and worries- "maybe someone is trying to tell us something", "maybe we aren't meant to have children", "maybe these little vials of sperm aren't really", "are we doing it wrong?", "should we have sex before", "stand on my head after...?".

The second month we tried, I had this odd feeling about a week after we inseminated. A physical feeling. There was no unusual breast tenderness, nausea, or tiredness, but I had this distinct feeling that there was a...a... well, it felt like I had swallowed a fish weight and it had lodged itself above my right ovary. I call it a fishing weight. I don't know what they are really called... one of those little hunks of lead like balls, of some sort, that weighs the fishing line down. That's what I felt like I had in me. I would push on it, it had a presence, but it was not palpable. Odd. At some point in the week before we took the pregnancy test I thought it was a baby. It made no sense that I could feel something that was no bigger than a flea, but I did. When we took the test and it was positive, I wasn't surprised. Hard to fathom, but not surprised. I can picture myself taking a shower that morning, preparing for work, talking to Kär, knowing we were finally pregnant, but not trusting the reality. And then again, I can see myself, on the ferry and then traveling down the freeway towards work, with my hand over the little fish weight wondering if it was going to stick. Wondering how I would hide it from my co-workers, how would they not know...

Soon enough, they knew. It wasn't long before the barfing began. At a friends house, on a plane, on myself as I was driving down the freeway, in the middle of the street ('cuz it was all I could do to stop, let alone pull over and get out of the car), at work... all the damn time. The doctor's assured us it was a good sign- hard to take too much comfort in that- The pregnancy progressed without a hitch- other than throwing up, tiredness, aching crotch, sore back...the usual. Leo entered our lives on his due date, on Käri's birthday. I'll save the details of his birth, the bitch ob/gyn who was on call, labor, pushing, etc. To quote an old friend "Hey, if it's bigger than a tampon it's going to hurt like a bitch, right?" That sums it up pretty well.

He was a beautiful baby. A typical first born. Wouldn't sleep anywhere but in our arm's, always held, homemade baby food, dressed to kill at all times, loved, adored, much wanted. Something special about that first one, something pretty wonderful.


Finally writing this part 2/4 brings up so many other stories in my head. This is NaBloPoMo so maybe I'll get to some of those, and continue the story of course, we do have more than one kid, right?

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