Holy Fuck. The Appointment Has Been Made
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.
How to Really Freak Me Out
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.
We’re 5 Days In…
2011 so far has been full of changes. But to recap the last week we must go back…to 2010!
I submitted all my paperwork for my new health insurance, that was a pain in the ass. Did I mention that not only does my mother still have a fax machine but she has a scanner, too? Amazing. So after 2 attempts at faxing my application to my insurance person (the faxes weren’t coming out because the font they use for the application is like 8pt. Totally ridiculous) I had to scan the application pages to pdf and send them over via email. Which also took 2 attempts, because scanning them at 300 dpi made the file HUGE. Sigh. Live and learn. I’m learning nothing that takes place in my mother’s house happens quickly, nor does it happen as you wish it would. Every time we attempted to leave the house we were no less than 20 minutes late. We overslept. We had to feed the nephew. We had to wait for someone. We forgot to pack something. Just getting out of the house was a miracle.
December 30th I went to the airport to pick up my partner from the airport. After getting lost, twice, in the stupid airport parking lot (they’ve been remodeling for years and finally finished. And then they moved Southwest out of Terminal A to Terminal B. Or something like that. So I was very confused when I was directed into the “wrong” parking lot) I actually went into the terminal to wait for her plane to arrive. I’ve never been so happy to see somebody! And then I begged her to agree to getting a hotel room for New Year’s Eve because there’s only so much family I can take and I was over my limit. Luckily, she agreed and we got a fabulous little hotel room a few miles from my parents’ house.
New Year’s day was never ending food. I think I was shoveling food into my mouth from 2pm til around 10pm. My waistline increased dramatically the week I was home. I have no willpower, and my mother has a full pantry.
We decided to come home a day early so that we would have a day to relax before returning to the grind of everyday living. My brother told us that the grapevine (that part of I5 that goes through the mountains that separate Los Angeles from the Central Valley) was closed due to snow and we’d better take Highway 101. That drive is at least an hour longer than I5. Oh well. My girlfriend and I talked most of the way home about things we need to get done in the next few months, my lack of insurance and how that affects our baby timeline, and we finally had some serious discussion about babymaking. So far, I’ve done most of the research into the various sperm banks and their donor lists (still only have 1 or 2 choices if we’re really going for someone who’s Taiwanese or Japanese), as well as what steps need to be taken before I even come in contact with those little swimmers. First and foremost, I’m back on my diet. Then there’s finding another OB/GYN because my old one will be out of network if I do get accepted by Blue Cross. There’s much paperwork to be filled out and we will have to legally become domestic partners. With a pre-nup. We have to start the adoption process or at least find out how and where to start so that the baby can be on her insurance.
Oh, and then there’s the baby’s last name. I want our child to have both our last names. But do we hyphenate? I’ve got a rather long last name (9 letters) and her’s is shorter (4 letters). A 13 letter last name seems cruel if our child has a first name that’s more than 1 syllable and a Japanese middle name. So do we somehow shorten our names into one name? We came up with some seriously awful ones that made us laugh. Then we decided that our child, while he or she will be a source of amusement, joy, and laughter, doing something like naming him or her purely for our own entertainment is just not right. Ok, back to the drawing board. I’m sure we’ll have much more discussion about names in the future.
It is here that I must point out that in our less than 6 hour drive, my girlfriend had to pee 3 times. 30 minutes into our drive she was asking to find a place to stop for a potty break. Overactive kidneys she has, I’m sure of it. Nobody should have to pee every 20 minutes. I fully expect to eat these words when I have a baby’s knee in my bladder…
We made it home safe and sound with Christmas presents that we were not expecting now sitting on a bookshelf, waiting to be used and/or put away. There are chores to be done, my house was not clean and tidy when the new year came around and I’m convinced that I’ve cursed myself into this chaos for the rest of the year. My girlfriend offered to hire someone to come in and help clean, but I’m not sure I want anyone in my house, seeing the utter destruction that is our living room. Again, I will probably rethink what I just said when I’m 7 months pregnant, can’t see my feet, and I’m trying to clean the toilet.
I wonder if it’s bad juju to talk about being pregnant? I mean I’ve not even started the whole process. Maybe I’m jinxing myself? Maybe I should just end this here and get some sleep. I’ve another post to write, though I expect I won’t get to that til later this week.
Second Class Citizen
There’s nothing like a little discrimination to make you feel, well, downright shitty. I’ve spent the last few days in a funk, trying to figure out how I’ve lived this long and never really had anyone make me feel like this. I’ve been an out lesbian for over 15 years. I’ve been in a committed relationship for 10 of those years. I’m open and very vocal about who I am and what I am. So here I sit, utterly powerless, all because my partner’s company won’t extend benefits to me as her domestic partner. And according to my insurance agent and her legal counsel, it’s all legal, even in the state of California.
Because although we have a law that says companies must extend equal benefits to domestic partners as they do spouses, it doesn’t apply when the employees are partially funding their coverage. Fucking loopholes. This, my friends, is discrimination. And why I give a big “fuck you” to those asshats who say that domestic partnership is the same as marriage. If I’d gotten married when it was legal in California, would I be having this problem now? I don’t know. I’d probably be having a different problem, since my partner’s company is based in another state and they wouldn’t recognize our marriage anyway.
I’ve been lucky in that this has never been an issue before. But I think in a way it hurts more now. We have a plan, dammit! This was supposed to be the year we started making babies. Like, soon. And now if I switch to individual insurance, not only is it going to be ridiculously expensive (try anywhere from $280/month to $610/month) for me, it’s nearly impossible to cover prenatal care if I get pregnant within 6 months of my enrollment date. I can’t get pregnant until June BECAUSE MY INSURANCE COMPANY SAYS SO. It’s so unfair. And nobody offers any sort of coverage for infertility. We already knew that was going to be expensive.
To top that all off, my girlfriend and I are 400 miles apart this week. I’m staying with my parents through the new year and she’s back at home, working. Phone calls are not as comforting as hugs. Feeling all alone because I haven’t even told my parents we want to have a baby is dumb, but I don’t want to get their hopes up. So yay, I get to be all clandestine when I’m reading the insurance information, scrolling through the pregnancy/maternity/post birth coverage stuff.
And now my partner feels really bad because her company sucks ass. I feel guilty because she has to pay for all of this. Could this suck any more right now? Oh wait, I could have PMS, too. Well, as luck would have it, I do. So I’m crying on the phone, I slept 16 hours last night, I’m eating everything in sight. FUUUUUCK. I know it’ll work out. In my head, I know this will work out. But for now, I’m going to feel sorry for myself and tuck my lonely, fat body into a cold, lonely bed.
Me and My Big Mouth
Tuesday night at rehearsal one of my friends asked if I was pregnant yet. Um, no, but thanks for asking! I need to be more circumspect in who I tell what and try to remember to keep my mouth shut. It’s not that I don’t want people to know. It’s just that there’s now this level of expectation, this pressure, because some people know that we want to have a baby. I’m sure my friend will be nothing but supportive with regard to our attempts, she and her ex went through a lot to conceive their daughter. But I don’t know if I’m ready to go through the whole process with my girlfriend, let alone our other friends.
I’m superstitious, too. So I don’t think I’ll tell anyone even if I do get pregnant, for the first, oh, 12-16 weeks or so. Ok, I might tell my parents. And my best friends. Oh, god, am I going to be able to keep this a secret? And what if something happens? I don’t think I could deal with telling people if I miscarry or something happens with the pregnancy.
So much to do if we want to start insemination in March or April. I’d still like to lose another 15 pounds, I’ve got to get my OB/GYN to fill out some paperwork, we need to find a donor, for chrissakes! I’d like to have more than one choice. Weigh our options. But that’s not looking so good right now. We’re convinced that we want an anonymous donor. I don’t think I could ask any of my guy friends to donate, nor do I think family members would be appropriate, given my/our medical histories. Here’s a perfect chance to have a baby who will hopefully start out life with only 1/2 the hereditary garbage–from my family he/she’d get heart disease, diabetes, arthritis, cancer, you name it, someone’s got it or had it in my family.
In other news, I went to my doctor yesterday, and I’ve lost 23 pounds since I last saw him 19 months ago. Of course, I had mono then and was still in school and eating like crap. We discussed my allergies and asthma and he’s putting me on another medication that will hopefully get rid of the wheezing and get my breathing back to normal. I also got a flu shot which hurts like a motherfucker right now, it’s swollen and tender and my whole arm is uncomfortable. The shot could also explain this horrible headache. Anyway, I’m also supposed to fill prescriptions for an antibiotic and go back on a low dose of a beta blocker to try and minimize my migraines.
This whole “taking better care of myself” is hard work.
Hormonally Yours
I think that’s the name of an album from way back when by Shakespeare’s Sister. Good album. But that’s not what this post is about.
Backstory: I was never one to have a regular period. It would show up, sometimes it didn’t. Made for a few scares back when I was still sleeping with men. But that’s a whole other story.
Fast forward to July, I lost weight, my period came back. I started tracking it for real and my cycle went 33 days, 31 days, and the past few have been 29 days. I’m hopeful it’ll be more regular now but who knows? Watch, when we actually try to inseminate, I won’t have a period that month. I’m nothing if not obstinate.
BUT, the reason for the title of this post (and for this post at all) is that the past three months have seen the days leading up to, during, and after ovulating (and I think I’m ovulating because my BBT was 97.4 yesterday morning, which is .8 higher than my ‘normal’ 96.63) come with massive cramps, a migraine, and swollen and oh-my-god-don’t-let-the-wind-blow-on-them-they’re-so-sensitive breasts. They hurt when I take of my bra. They hurt when the water touches them in the shower. They hurt if I bend over. It’s unreal. My body is doing some strange things as it rewires systems that have been haywire because of my health and weight.
Oh, and moody, much? Seriously, I’m buying myself the “zero to bitch in 2.5 seconds” shirt. Short tempered, downright nasty. Is this supposed to happen when I’m ovulating? I’m used to PMS being right around the start of my period, not 2 whole weeks before! I feel so bad for my girlfriend, who, of course, gets the brunt of my moodswings. I’m normally pretty grouchy but this has been horrible.
Maybe I should go back on my beta-blocker. It made me so much more mellow and the added benefit of less painful migraines was great. Yes, it did seem to kill some of my braincells so my girlfriend made me stop taking it, but I was much more pleasant on it. I guess I can’t afford to lose that many brain cells. And the short term memory loss sucked, too.
I suppose I’ll have to remain a hormonal mass of moodiness for the time being. The influx of additional hormones when I get pregnant might make my girlfriend homicidal, though. I may have to invest in lots of massage appointments for her.
Things I Won’t Be Able to Do…But Will I Miss Them?
Getting pregnant means a lot of changes both physically and mentally for us. Mentally I’ll have to accept that we’re going to be responsible for that life that’s growing inside me. And sharing our lives with another person, having that person basically become our lives? It’s a lot to take in.
Physically? I don’t know how I’m going to adapt to another being inside me. Depending on me for its’ food and well being. I’ll be more aware than ever that I can’t eat the double quarter pounder with cheese and large fries. I won’t be able to start my day with 32oz of coffee with non-dairy creamer and splenda. Working out 3-5 times a week? Who knows if I’ll have the energy or will to do that anymore.
And I’ll have to give up beer.
That’s HUGE. I love beer. It’s my guilty pleasure, given how I’ve started watching my carbs and calorie intake. There are very few things that throw off my diet like beer. Because I can’t have just one. Probably two or three. Yikes. So today, in honor of the Giants game, I’m on my second Blue Moon. 456 calories. No more food tonight!
Mochi & Mooncakes 