Yes, THAT appointment. The initial appointment/consultation that will hopefully start the “holy fuck we’re having a baby” process. We’ve decided to go to a reproductive endocrinologist at a reproductive center in Pasadena. Since I’m so freaking old (in baby making years), this ball’s got to go at light speed once it starts rolling. I was totally weird when I made the appointment. Tried cracking jokes that the appointment setter just didn’t get (they were awful jokes. Truly). And when she asked, “is this appointment for infertility?” I had no answer. Am I fertile? Probably. Can I get pregnant? Not with my current partner.
Tangent: Did I ever relate the story of another lesbian couple we know? At a family gathering, one of the women told her grandmother, “Grandma, we’re trying to have a baby.” Grandma looked at the two of them and stated, “You’re doing it wrong!” /tangent
I guess that makes me infertile for the time being. And in need of their fertility services. ICI, IUI, IVF. Rah Rah Rah! Siss-boom-bah! Or something like that. Which to choose? I’m thinking we’ll go right past ICI and try IUI, as we’ll probably be doing this at their facilities and not trying to be all “let’s both be involved in the baby making, here–let me shove this turkey baster up your —-while we’re surrounded by candlelight and soft music. Isn’t it beautiful?” I’m sure that works for some people but that’s SO NOT US! We’re going for clinical, efficient, and cost effective, thank you very much.
We’ve kind of settled on having a baby whose bio dad is…Taiwanese/Chinese. Our choices are so limited, we don’t even really care what the donor looks like. But we’ll get a picture just to make sure we don’t know him or worse, he’s related. Or maybe that’d be better? Whatever. Out of 4 potential donors, this one is tall(ish), smart, and likes sports.
Handing over the credit card for this stuff is going to hurt. I sent over a copy of my insurance card but we really have no idea how much it’s going to cost to get pregnant (and no, we’re not thinking past that to the actual cost of having another human who’s totally dependent on us. Just not going there, ok?). But it’s going to be worth it, right? Right?
If the damn doctor tells me I have to lose weight I might shoot him, though.
Well, it’s been 3 months since I’ve posted and we’ve finally circled back ’round to the babymaking subject. I have insurance, albeit an HMO that probably won’t do for shit with the whole getting pregnant thing, but it’s insurance nonetheless. My partner has a new job and we will have new insurance starting September 1st. So now we have to decide how to proceed. I have to choose not only an OB/GYN but also someone (who may end up being the same as my OB/GYN) to do the insemination. They supposedly have recommendations at the cryobank we may use. But do I pick one now and just pay out of pocket for the initial exams, knowing my “better” insurance, which may or may not cover more of these procedures, will be effective in a little over a month? I’m beginning to feel like I’m really running out of time. Clock ticking? Maybe. Probably.
So all this planning is great but my partner and I got into a discussion last night about disclosure. I sing in a choir and have to re-audition at the end of August. We have a huge season coming up and major things in the works, including a trip to a regional choral convention and singing with the L.A. Philharmonic. If I get pregnant, am I going to be able to handle the intense schedule and travel? Who knows? But should I tell my choir director about our plans? Some people in my choir already know (have I mentioned before that 80% of my friends are in this group?) so keeping it under wraps is going to be rather hard. Do I have any sort of obligation to tell my director, given how this might impact my commitment? My partner says no. If we were a straight couple and I got pregnant, hey, surprise! I think, though, that since this is a conscious decision I have a responsibility to say something. How would it look if I sprang this on my choir? It’s a courtesy, and nothing I would do if this was a work situation or in an instance where it really isn’t anyone else’s business but ours. But this is my choir. These are my friends. So do I tell them? I think the answer is yes, but damn, my partner is so much more private than I am. I guess we’ll see how it goes with the cryobank stuff first…
Write an article about how hard it is, despite all those Hollywood stars and media people saying otherwise, to get pregnant after 35…makes me want to quit before I even get started.
It’s spring. Everything’s blooming, although we’re having a rather rainy couple of weeks in sunny Los Angeles. In the midst of the rain and trying to get my apartment finished and the bookkeeping I have to do before Friday, I spent about an hour yesterday selecting plants and a couple of new pots at Home Depot. Spent a little too much money on the pots, but I really like them. I buy the smallest plants they have because they’re the cheapest, and I don’t feel so bad when I kill them, which I do with alarming frequency. Oh, I’d love to say I have a green thumb, but it’s more black than green, kind of a dark olive-gray. But I enjoy plants, and surprisingly, I like playing in the dirt. I think I’ve figured out that when there are no worms, slugs, or snails involved, I’m much happier with said dirt. And the only bugs I have to deal with in potting soil are the stupid plant mites. I’m not fond of dirty fingernails and cleaning up afterwards is not really fun, either, but the couple of hours I spent repotting older plants and potting the new ones was…soothing.
So if I’m going to analyze this whole plant thing I’d venture to say I want to see things of my own making start to grow because we’re not yet on that 100% path to the baby thing. Then there’s the whole fertility, soil, blah, blah, blah…Also, I need something to take care of, given that my girlfriend is out of town for 2 weeks and when she’s not around I don’t leave my house or talk to anyone. So…plants. I haven’t started talking to them, yet. I have had that song from Little Shop of Horrors going through my head all day, though.
Hopefully they’ll live for a while. They’re mostly palms and tropicals but I did get a hydrangea because I missed having them (they lined the exterior wall of our old apartment, you know, where we liked our neighbors and never had to call the cops and stuff). I do have one plant that’s managed to stay alive, despite my best efforts, for around 4 1/2 years. Even when I neglect him for weeks and he gets all wilted he seems to always come back like a champ. My father is jealous – he has the same type of plant but it never looks as healthy as Bob. I bought Bob some friends to put in his pot and fill in some bare spots so hopefully he’ll stay happy and healthy.
Incidentally, did you know drilling holes into ceramic causes an unholy screeching sound? I think I did, given that I sawed through some tiles in my aunt’s bathroom a few years ago, but I’d blissfully forgotten the experience. So when I drilled drainage holes into 2 of the pots yesterday, my ears rang for about 5 hours afterwards. Nice. I have to drill the holes, though. I tend to drown plants. I try to be disciplined and not overwater, but I forget or they start to look droopy or somesuch thing and I think, “Hey, I’ll just give it a little bit more water…” and before you know it, drowned, dead plant.
Here’s to keeping all the plants alive for a while, and oxygenating and cleaning the air in my house without having to turn on my air filters.
I should not be left home alone. If left home alone, my usual MO is to sit in total silence for hours at a time. Since my parents left on Sunday afternoon, I’ve not spoken to anyone. I went downstairs to do some work yesterday but today I avoided everyone and holed up in the apartment until it was time to go to rehearsal. Didn’t even answer the phone, though I knew the guy calling me was outside. I could hear him as he left a message. Wonder if he heard the phone ringing in my room. Very thin walls and single pane windows, you know.
I’m not a social person by nature. I like to stay home, I don’t like to talk on the phone, I rarely go to new places by myself. Have I always been this way? I don’t remember. What was I like when I was single? I don’t remember that, either. So if I was single now, I’m not sure if this is how I’d really be or if I feel like I’ve nothing to do since my girlfriend isn’t here. Whatever. She’ll be back in 2 weeks. That’s a very, very long time from now. And I haven’t spoken to her since she left Saturday night. She’s extremely busy with a conference in DC and hasn’t had time to do anything but work since she’s been there, I know, but it’s weird not speaking to her for this long.
Oh, PMS, how I hate you. Lonely, bloated, I was eating everything in sight until yesterday. Today I’ve been hungry all day and kind of just…sad. And then I get sadder when I realize I don’t really DO anything when my girlfriend isn’t around. Yay, pity party!
Anyway, to add to the sad, today I read this blog for hours. I probably shouldn’t when I’m totally PMSing but I couldn’t help it. So then I cried for these people and how hard it’s been for them. And then it made me think, do I really want to go through something like that to have a child? And at rehearsal tonight we were talking about traveling in 2012, to 2 conferences. What if we have a child – are we going to be able to travel? Will we want to travel? Would I still be singing with this group if we have to care for a kid? I know I can’t commit to any sort of thing that requires a non-refundable monetary deposit. But I’m not ready to tell people why I’m hesitant about planning something that’s 15 months away…
I worked out tonight for the first time since…early February, I think. The motivator? My choir is going to be used in a pilot that shoots next Friday. I have 12 days to not look like a beached whale on tv. That means cardio & abs every day and weights every other day. And no more See’s Candy. Or pizza. Or anything else that my parents brought with them when they stayed here this past weekend.
When my health insurance stopped, I stopped taking my basal body temperature in the mornings, figuring I didn’t really need to be tracking my ovulation that closely. No insurance, no kid. At least for the time being. But I have been more “in tune” with my body and noticing little things, here and there, changes that I figure I used to just ignore.
I’m more tired than usual around the time that I ovulate. At least that’s the going theory. Combine this with a hike in my…libido…and I’m a pretty cranky person. Meh. Randy and too tired to do a damn thing about it.
My girlfriend downloaded an app to track her cycles. It’s got all these icons that you use to signify how you’re feeling (how swollen are your breasts? choose the small, medium, or large cherry-topped cupcake!). Comical.
Me? I continue to want to eat everything in sight. This is getting boring. I’ve got to find out what to do about my insurance. And I have to finish the apartment downstairs.
So…it’s been a while since I posted anything but really, there’s not much to say. I’ve submitted resumes for a few jobs, done a little bit of work for some friends, been working on our downstairs apartment. Sleeping a lot.
My father said I was fat. Yay. Way for the positive reinforcement, Pops. Love you, too. Consequently, I’ve been eating more than normal. Food issues? Me?
My thoughts on getting pregnant seem to be changing. No, that doesn’t mean I no longer want to have a child. It means that the getting pregnant part is…evolving. Back when we had health insurance for the both of us, my girlfriend and I were all for signing up with our local cryobank, picking an anonymous donor from their list, and *poof*, there’s a baby in my belly. Ok, I realize I’m probably oversimplifying the insemination part here, only because if I dwell on it I’ll freak out and, hey, gross myself out, too.
So back to this pregnancy thing. Without health insurance (even though our policy didn’t cover fertility issues), the expense of having a baby via artificial insemination is astronomical. Not that we can even start if I don’t have a regular OB/GYN. Which I don’t until my individual insurance plan kicks in on March 1st. There are forms to be filled out, interviews to be conducted, and maybe, just maybe, vials of bio-dad to be placed in our very own “baby daddy” vault at the cryobank.
Which makes me think going the turkey baster route isn’t such a bad idea. Buy an ovulation kit, pee on a stick, and once it gives the high sign, drive over to our friends’ house, and receive their generous donation. Now don’t go getting all excited there–the two gay boys will produce the necessary stuff and hand it over, whereupon it will be, um, implanted…in my body, which will be waiting in the next room. The boys have volunteered to help out and at first we weren’t sure we wanted to have babies with them. Ultimately, we’d prefer an Asian donor. And one who is anonymous, so as not to deal with legal ickiness. But is that really what’s important here?
My cousin’s friend had a “perfect kid” because she got to choose everything about him. Is that what we’re trying to do? When it all comes down to it, if I can’t have my girlfriend’s baby, does it matter who the father is? Or what the kid’s ethnicity is? It’s going to be half me, wouldn’t I rather the other half be someone known so I know who I blame when my kid sets off firecrackers in the girls locker room or hacks into the Pentagon? I think half Asian, half white kids are cuter, anyway. And most times they end up with pretty good skin and hair. Not to mention those round eyes that are so coveted by most of my family.
Definitely cheaper. Definitely more legal headaches that could happen. This obviously needs more discussion between the 4 of us. Good grief. Talking about it makes me squeamish. Guess I’ll have to get over it if this is what we really want.
Exhausted. I’ve been working on our downstairs apartment, trying to get it ready for us to move in. Today I finished painting the bathrooms, now I’ve just got to install the casing, door stops, and baseboards and my part will be done. I hope. Next come vanities, mirrors, medicine cabinets, towel bars, and lighting.
Then we’ve got to get the leaky wall fixed, windows replaced, and carpet. AND THEN maybe we can move in. There’s still the kitchen to do, though.
UGH. So much to do, and I’ve no idea when I’m supposed to finish my contract gig (which I’m only supposed to be doing til March 31st).
I’m sure that there is a way to hypnotize myself awake and able to do stuff for more than 5 hours a day.