A Little Conversation

a little text message conversation today. ali went for yet another blood test, hoping for an hCG number between 0 and 5, signaling that this whole thing is finally behind us.

A:: 8.2. WTF? i'm not doing another test.

T:: Ur so close to 0-5. . .

A:: I know.

T:: I hereby and forthwith declare it officially over and done with. Moving ON!!!!!

A:: YES! I second that motion!

T:: Motion carried. It was unanimous. Meeting adjourned!

A:: Lol!

and so this chapter of life ends and we finally are able to look forward with hope

It's Not One Moment In Time

if you ever felt this need to look up the word miscarriage in the thesaurus this is what you would find –
miscarriage: failure, foundering, ruin, ruination, collapse, breakdown, thwarting, frustration, undoing, nonfulfillment, mismanagement

and i always thought it was an event. a thing that happened to people who weren't careful. who smoked and drank or who didn't care for themselves or for others. i thought it happened one day and a day or two later you were ready to begin again.

fuck that.

a month later we're still wondering what's going on. we're still taking blood. we're still making phone calls and desperately trying to extract information from doctors who must think that all women are somehow born with some kind of secret knowledge in our dna just because we are female and because of that they don't have to bother explaining things. you know, they are busy and all. . .with people who are still pregnant. . .

weeks later i'm learning that miscarriage is not an event that happens at a moment in time, despite the handwritten note, scribbled on a post-it while the doctor's assistant gives you a precious 30 seconds of her time. the note reads "miscarriage - February 22, 2011 Level still 20.2"

it's a note that breaks my heart when i see it crumpled up on the kitchen counter, between the bread bowl and the paper towels. and i'm not the one still bleeding.

miscarriage isn't one moment in time.

its a slog. and for now it feels like it just goes on and on.

The Magic of Words

"I think one of our cardinal, crazy fuckups is how we insist that even vicious, whimsical, crazy shit needs to make sense, add up, belong to a reason. We lay this pain on ourselves – there must be a reason behind all this horror, there must, but I ain't adequate to findin' it, and that's my fault, so torture me some more."

~ Tomato Red by Daniel Woodrell

I just finished the book Tomato Red last night and the writing blew me away. The magic of good writers, stringing words together in a way that gives meaning to life will never cease to amaze me. I've never read descriptions like I read in that book. This guy is one phenomenal writer.

"The church was bright white and pointed and seemed like a structure that would rough me up with scolds and lectures and ghastly passages from the Book if I ever walked on

that side of the street."

"God damn, " she says, "you know, that big rotten gap between who I am, and who I want to be, never does quit hurtin' to stare across."

It's not a long book, but it's writing that demands to be read slowly so that the images can become fully formed in your mind and stick with you days afterward. That's what happened to me with that first quote. Mind you, Ali and I are nowhere near the kind of desperation being given voice to there, but we look at the events of the last two weeks and try to assign them some kind of meaning, something of significance so that it doesn't feel so random and unequal.

It doesn't really help much that there is still no resolution. Her hCG levels are still hanging near 200 two weeks later so it looks like it was possible that this pregnancy was ectopic and her body is still trying to resolve the issue. {by now her number should be 0-5. . .not nearly 200} So we sit in limbo. Waiting for another blood test in a week and half. Waiting for doctor bills from the fertility clinic to arrive so we can pay them off and start again.

And mostly we sit and wonder why. And what to do differently next time.

Randomness

:: In the morning you get dressed. You put on a pair of jeans and a brown sweater. You try to coordinate your socks to your sweater, just in case anyone sees them. You walk out the door thinking you look pretty good, never thinking about what the day might hold. You come in the door that night with everything different. And you don't care at all what you look like. And you want to throw the brown sweater away. It must have bad juju now.

:: It's harder to hold yourself together when people are being kind.

:: I think that I've come the closest I will ever come to knowing what it feels like to be a man.* {keep in mind, i still write this from a woman's brain and experience} When your partner miscarries it's not your body. You aren't experiencing the physical pain any more than you were experiencing the physical pregnancy. You might be having the same emotional pain but someone has to be strong. Someone has to hold it together and listen to the words of the doctor and the hospital. Someone has to call her Mom. Someone has to call her employer. And someone has to be together enough to do it without falling apart.

You can grieve of course. Just do it quietly. And out of the way. At a more convenient time.

And I think that must be what it feels like to be a man some days. {and maybe i'm just full of bullshit. feel free to let me know.}

*please know that nothing A. has said or done has made me feel this way. and maybe that's also what it feels like to be a man. no one ever says "this is what you're supposed to do". . .it's just what you feel is expected. . .

Absence

I've been missing from this space for a few days now. There are several reasons, the first being that it's nearing the end of February and that fact alone makes me struggle mightily every year just to make it until my birthday in the middle of March. I've written posts in my head. I've taken pictures with my phone and with my camera that may or may not ever see the light of day. I've just not had the energy or the inclination to go any farther than that.

The second reason is practical. We haven't had internet or television service in several days. An AT&T guy is coming to the house today to see if he can repair it.

The third reason is personal. We lost the baby yesterday. A few weeks ago I said that we made the decision to be open about our journey towards motherhood because we had both spent most of our lives not talking about things out of fear. I'm still glad we made that decision, even though it means having a difficult conversation over and over again now.

I titled this post absence – explaining mine – and being honest about how we are feeling right now. I awoke in the night to find the bed gently shaking with sobs. The absence of someone we never met is real. The hurt is real. But so is the hope. Spring will eventually come. The internet will eventually return magically through the air to my computer. My brain will bubble again with ideas to be committed to paper. We will most likely begin to save our pennies again to take a few more tentative steps towards motherhood.

But for right now, we will just be still in the absence.

That's Ms. Do-nar To You

We had our first OB-Gyn appointment today. It was with the nurse at the practice where we will be going. Mostly it was just paperwork and talking. As she sat going through the facts on the sheets in her little folder she checked the accuracy of all her information. Names, addresses, emergency contacts, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Then she got to the part about the father and the room got kind of quiet. Her eyes were nervously scanning her sheaf of papers. Finally a look of relief bloomed across her face as she finally found the father's name.

"Oh, here it is! It's. . ."

long pause

"it's. . . Do-nar?" (she dragged out the syllables "doe-naaaaar?")

She looked up, clearly confused.

Ali began to laugh {she couldn't help it}.

"That would be DONOR. . . as in "sperm donor?"

The nurse's face turned red. Both of them started to laugh.

For now, just call me Ms. Do-nar. . .

*the only other interesting thing from this appointment is that on our March 2nd ultrasound we will know exactly how many babies might be hatching in there. . .start prayin' now everybody. . .

What Is Real

What is real right now. . .

:: the hospital lab confirmed our at-home test results yesterday. we truly are expectant mothers. holy shit.

:: i knew it all had to be real because A. is exhausted. all the time. she has been in bed by 7:30 every night for the last two weeks.

:: she makes me look like a night owl.

:: i'm kind of lonely. i get home at 6:30, make dinner, do the dishes and sit on the couch alone because she's already in bed.

:: on the upside, i get to read. a lot. there's no tv on.

:: i should read and read and read. . .because in eight months my world is never going to be the same. . .and I may not get to read another book for years.

:: it's real.

:: holy shit.

To Tell the Truth

Yesterday at church someone asked if everyone knew about the pregnancy or if we were keeping it something of a secret. It's a question we thought pretty hard about in the days leading up to the insemination. And since I've been writing about it here for awhile, we're probably the world's worst secret keepers.

There are certainly pros to keeping quiet about it in the early stages, with the biggest being that it could be devastating to have told everyone and then have something happen to prematurely end a very early pregnancy. Then you gotta "untell."

A. and I never really specifically talked about why we decided to be completely open about our journey but here's what I told the person who asked yesterday – there's so much about being a gay or lesbian couple in a heterosexual world that does not get celebrated that sometimes you just have to make a party where you can.

Most of us can't get married in a way that gives us any rights as a couple. The vast majority of us don't have an anniversary that anyone ever recognizes. Even if being a gay couple doesn't make our friends of family outwardly uncomfortable, we rarely push the envelope enough to completely tell the truth about everything going on in our lives. And we almost never do things to make other people squeamish.

And I guess that's the real reason we told.

Both A. and I – and the vast majority of gay and lesbian people our ages – spent a good part of our lives hiding the truth. We hid out of fear. We hid out of longing for acceptance. We hid because we felt like we had to.

We've spent our lives not telling people things because of fear.

And, for us, when it comes to bringing a baby into the world, we didn't want to let fear have a foothold this early. Sure, something may happen in the early stages of this pregnancy and we will have to spread the word that it's over, even if it breaks our hearts.

But we will do it knowing that we were open and unafraid from day one and that fear didn't win.

6:36 ~ February 4, 2011

{ali bought each of us one of these today. i will have to deal with all the baggage this word can bring – good and bad.}

Just One Word

{edited to make this my 6:36 Project picture of the day too. come on. . .how could it not be??}

Right Now

{One week of waiting down. One week of waiting to go. I was trying to really think about how all this feels and put it into words. Harder than I thought it might be.}

Right now?

It's the in-between –

the living into the not-yet.

I Am

i am empty.

i am open.

i am waiting.

i am a chalice.

i am a basket.

i am a bowl.

i am a nest.

the universe swirls

around me,

a whirlwind of hope.

a tempest outside

what is real –

but not quite tangible.

i am free.

i am receptive.

i am expectant.

A Tiny Blessing

Timing is everything. So is persistence.

This little fellow landed on our car as we were heading home from the hospital yesterday afternoon. We only stopped for a moment and I looked up to see him sitting on the driver's mirror, looking through the glass at me, as though expecting to carry on a small conversation. He watched me fumble in the backseat for the camera, blinking his tiny button eyes slowly and watching my every move.

Before I could get the camera focused he was gone. We thought.

Seconds later he landed on the passenger's mirror and looked at Ali intently. I shot a few pictures. Sticking the key in the ignition, Ali rolled down her window. He never broke the gaze her was holding with her.

Then, in an instant, he was gone.

And it felt like a tiny little bird blessing on a very special day.

Little Vignette

Setting:: The doctor's office at the fertility clinic. Ali's feet are in the stirrups. The doctor is doing the artificial insemination. I'm watching. It's really quiet, except for the doctor who's singing. . .

Doctor:: OK! {short pause, like he's expecting something}

Ali:: {from the other end of the table, muffled by the sheet covering her lower half} Oh. . .is that it?

Doctor:: Well. . . I guess it's not exactly the real thing. . .but it's the best I can do for you!

{laughter erupts in the room and I wonder how many times he's been asked "is that it" by some woman a little more disappointed than we were!}

6:36 ~ January 20, 2011

Co-Creators With God

There are very few days in the span of a lifetime in which you get to enter into the grand unfolding of life by making a conscious decision which could alter your path forever. Most days are littered with the small decisions of everyday living that might add up to something when viewed in the rearview mirror. Occasionally there are events that are thrust on us with positively no permission being given by us. There are both happy and tragic occurrences that amend our lives in ways we never even see coming.

But today, we get to make a choice. There is no way a lesbian couple will ever accidently attempt to bring a child into the world. And I am unquestionably on board with this decision. I'm excited, terrified and already thoroughly in love with whatever our outcome will be.

Yet I am also apprehensive. There are a million how, what if questions buzzing in my brain and gnawing at the edges of my stomach. Maybe it's because I'm older that these questions seem louder and more obnoxious. When I was younger I would just jump in with both feet and know that I would figure it out as it came. Now I want to see down the road just a little farther than my little flashlight will illuminate.

So, today I make a choice. It's one of those moments that is holy because I am conscious that, along with God, we are choosing to attempt to be co-creators of life. And we make that choice with love and faith and a community of friends and family who love and support us.

And really, what else do we need? The money and the diapers and the sleepless nights will take care of themselves, if it is meant to be.

When you come to the end of all the light you know, and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: Either you will be given something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly.

6:36 ~ January 18, 2011

{Ovidrel, 250mcg; being delivered subcutaneously by a real nurse – and a real friend. Who else would wait up for us to show up in the middle of the night?? And, just for the record, if most other people took pictures of their baby-making endeavors it would be considered p0rn.* Ours is just medical drama. . .}

* i spelled it with a zero so i didn't get a bunch of hits here for those googling the word spelled with an o. . .

On the Number 800, Marmalade, Drugs and Babies {Not Necessarily In That Order}

Today marks 800 posts on this little corner of the internet. I accidentally noticed it yesterday and now it feels like some kind of little milestone. What started on a whim, over four years ago has gathered 800 mostly useless discourses from me and a staggering 24,123 visits and 35,799 page views from you.

At first, I had planned to write about kumquat marmalade today. {i made a batch and even took pictures.} And then I realized that I should at least acknowledge 800 days of usual and customary foolishness.

And then we were hit with our first round of disappointment in the baby-making quest. Life was quickly brought back into focus. What was hazy and silly and inconsequential was suddenly replaced by what was razor-sharp and clear – that nothing is predictable and not much in life is ever easy. {and in truth, i wouldn't want it to be}

It's not a permanent set-back. Just at least another month of waiting. There is a possibility that we will be ordering drugs from England at the suggestion of our doctor. {what costs $75 a dose in the United States costs $15 a dose in England. . .and we could need 50 doses. . .don't get me started on healthcare in this country. . .}

As I contemplated marmalade, writing, babies, drugs and blogs I came to understand and remember why I do this almost every day. Because life is about all of this. The little moments of silliness. The seconds of anger and disappointment. The hours of pleasure. The times of boredom and restlessness. The stretches of normalcy and the flashes of brilliance that we all encounter.

I just happen to want to remember mine. So, I write.

And, for some unknown reason, you read.

A friend of mine on Facebook wrote something that I read the other day and has stuck with me ever since. He said, "I'm blessed beyond belief in this life. If I die today I want all my family and friends to know I enjoyed every second of it." I don't know that I could say I've enjoyed every second of my life, but it's pretty damn close. {at least more than half anyway. . .}

I can say that I've enjoyed writing every one of the 800 pieces of foolishness that I've posted here. And from the bottom of my heart, I say thank you for reading.

Here's to at least 8 more.

Out of the Bag

So, with the last post, the cat is truly out of the bag so to speak. I've struggled with what to say, what not to say and how to say anything at all. I don't want to turn this space into baby-talk central. I also don't want to jinx anything. On the other hand, it's my space and I want to remember the journey, however it turns out. So, I guess you'll just have to bear with me!

But, by far, the best part so far has been reading your comments!

NR said...
You don't really give me a Mark Ruffalo vibe, but he is a hottie. I'm not surprised you found a musician. :-)
Good Luck to both of you!!!

random thoughts said...
hmm... for less than half the price per vial, I know a couple of backwoods redneck boys with most of their teeth that might help you out...although, they do believe in the DELIVERENCE method...LOL Good luck... this choice looks like a winner!

Ami said...
I can't wait to send you something tie dyed for the baby.

:-D

Frank Wilson said...
When is all this going to happen?

To answer a few questions –

The swimmers are winging their way from California to Ohio as I write. This whole adventure will begin next week. We're going to doctor's appointments, taking pills and getting shots that should maximize the chances of conception. It also maximizes the chances of more than one baby, but we don't want to talk about that right now.

So far my favorite comment (with random thoughts up there coming in a close second!) is from my Aunt Nancy.

Nancy said...
And you just add him to the cart like you're on Amazon????????
Is shipping added at the end when you give your credit card number???
This is too wierd even for a child of the 60s-
Love you anyway

Yes, you just add him to the cart! Shipping is outrageous. . .$170. . .but you have to factor in the cost of dry ice and a one way ticket to Ohio I guess. . . You can't just order this stuff willy-nilly off the internet though. You have to have a doctor's order and it has to be shipped to his office for "deliverance!"

So far we only have enough money saved up to do this once so everybody cross their fingers! Thanks for the love and the comments!

Other Random Facts We've Learned Along the Way:

• It takes an average of 10 tries for a healthy, "normal" couple to conceive.

• It takes an average of 6 tries for those receiving fertility treatments.

• The "normal" odds of having a multiple birth are 2 in every 100 births.

• Taking Clomid raises the odds to 1 in 5.

Like I said, we don't want to talk about that right now. . .