I feel confused and excited and skeptical. Oh, what a cycle this has been already.


We went back to the Texas Ranger (TR) this morning for a follicular ultrasound. The report? That my ovaries are “textbook PCOS”, my lining is “damned good” and I have a “truly beautiful” follicle measuring just under 20mm. She seemed genuinely excited about my lining and my follicle, and seemed utterly dismissive of the PCOS being a problem. When I asked about confirmatory bloodtests she said, “You have PCOS. No doubt about it.” and then kind of moved on. Only mentioning the best thing to keep it under control was to “lose weight.” Which I just automatically reframe as “eat healthy and move more” because I think ‘losing weight’ is a bad goal. 

She also, despite prior comments to the contrary, recommended an IUI this cycle. La and I were both *shocked* but TR told us that my lining and follicle were great and a cycle after HSG is a great time to get pregnant. 

The catch? I am going to Greenville, SC tomorrow on behalf of an agency from whom I serve on the board of directors. 

According to my past ovulation history, this isn’t a big deal. I’m on Day 12 and usually ovulate on Day 17, which would be Monday. But TR seems to think it will happen sooner because of that gorgeous follicle. So far, no positive on the ol’ OPK but maybe an ultrasound is more reliable?

We are going to play things by ear and see what happens. I will call when I get a positive and see when they tell me to come in. If I’m in town, I guess we do an IUI. If I’m not, we go back to plan . . .B.1? whatever. 

I am eerily calm about this. I did have a full half hour where I considered trying to have someone else go on my behalf, but United airlines cleared that right up when they told me that would only happen with a 200$ rebooking fee plus the difference in tickets. All I can do right now is hope that precedent is solid and that big gorgeous egg doesn’t pop until I am safely back in the Queen City of the Plains.

Because I am totally a firm believer in the power of woo (prayer, meditation, tarot cards, good vibes, juju, etc.) I am asking that you all send my little polycystic ovaries some love and tell the right one to lay off ovulating until Monday.



Almost as Good, and sometimes better

My nephew is here!


Liam Greer came busting onto the scene on Friday night at 8:20pm, MST. He came in at a whopping 8lbs 15oz, 21in long and a 14 in head. I really, really hope the giant head runs in my sister-in-law’s family and not mine. Dear lord.

He’s pretty fabulous already. We haven’t hung out much, because he’s kind of a big deal and I really hate being *that* family member who doesn’t respect boundaries (because there are plenty of them already) We have a dinner date tomorrow. His mom and dad are coming too.


I know I’m biased but he is a REALLY beautiful baby, amiright?

In other news . . .

Both BFF and I had appointments with the fertility acupuncturist on Saturday. She seems to see some evidence of PCOS in my chart, and explained that while I do ovulate on my own that I may not be ovulating well or producing very good eggs. She noted that having many days of positive OPKs could indicate ‘weak’ ovulation and eggs trying to be released in the midst of lots of cysts impeding them. Still nothing confirmatory, but I think I might push for some blood tests when I go in to see the Texas Ranger tomorrow.

I’m now taking myo-inositol (which, BTW, seems to have a LOT of clinical evidence of helping PCOS symptoms without side effects), fish oil and vitamin D3 to support ovarian function and increase blood flow. And, of course, it is now officially time to stop eating refined sugar, wheat and dairy again. Which I have always known I would have to do but have ignored for a while now. You guys, donuts are my kryptonite. This is no fun.

I’m feeling much more at peace with the path we are on right now. We are definitely taking this month off, and will likely not proceed to the IUI in the Aug/Sept cycle either, although we may try at home again (possibly using The Conception Kit – another recommendation from the Acupuncturist) BFF will get a repeat sperm analysis after 8 weeks of acupuncture/herbs/supplements.

There is a lot of waiting ahead of me, and I know it is being mitigated somewhat right now by the appointments I have. I’m working hard to put some other things into place that will help me get through the next (maybe two) month(s) of not trying. And, still, I know there will be times when it feels so so so far away.

But today, things are good. Today, I have a tiny (or not so tiny!) nephew who is precious beyond measure. Today I have a few more answers and a few more techniques to try. And tomorrow I see the Texas Ranger for more information.

The day after that, well, I will get there when I get there.

Things. Some good. Some hard.

I had originally wanted to wait to update you all until AFTER my nephew made his arrival earth-side – which should have been by now. Unfortunately (for all of us, but mostly for his mama) the induction using pitocin did not encourage Liam to come out to this side of the belly. After 12 hours of not enough progress, she was sent home. She will go back tonight to try again. Nephew Wath 2013 has been delayed. Adorable baby photos will have to wait until another day.

Some things have happened this week, like this:


aka the best salad ever aka direct from the garden at the estate.

And this:


aka the first egg from the golden girls (there was another last night too. So exiting!)

Eating stuff from your backyard is THE BEST.

But then this also happened:


Which I guess for some people isn’t that bad, but made me feel like this:


I find it shocking that for some people with uteruses, the HSG is totally like, no biggie. This is the impression I got when I asked about it on the babycenter board and when I did some pre-procedure googling. I find this shocking because it was absolutely, hands down, the most exrutiating pain I have ever experienced. Granted, I (thankfully) have not had a lot of run ins with excessive pain. But I do have a fair number of tattoos and have undergone surgery and busted my ankle up so bad that doctors now don’t know what to do with it. So . . .I have some reference.

In any case, yesterday was miserable. After screaming through the HSG, I was informed that my ovaries looked poly cystic. I’m going back on Tuesday for another ultrasound for them to check and decide if this is actually the case.

I feel somewhat confused by this. I have very regular periods (with the exception of the last year when two cycles were longer than usual – one very long, 60 days) and appear to ovulate based on BBT signs. My metabolic panels have always been good – no signs of insulin resistance, blood pressure issues or high cholesterol. I’m a bigger girl, but my weight is much more packed into my thighs and booty vs. my belly. I don’t have acne or hair growth. Basically, this is coming as a bit of a surprise to me.

The doctor who did the HSG and subsequently informed me of the appearance of my ovaries was not the Texas Ranger, but the follow up is scheduled with her. So I’m hoping to get some answers then, and also from the fertility specialist acupuncturist I am seeing on Saturday.

I know the PCOS is not the end of the road when it comes to fertility stuff, and that it can definitely be treated in a variety of ways. But this is not the kind of news I want on the heels of BFF’s less-than-stellar semen analysis results. But, if it is in fact the case, we will just do the next best thing.

At least I don’t feel like I have a knife shoved up my cervix anymore. See, there is a bright side to everything!

Liebster Love!

Ok y’all . . .I am so excited that Rachael over at Religion:Optional nominated me for the Liebster Blogging Award because when I first started reading other lesbian TTC blogs it seemed like getting a Liebster meant you had made it. So, I have been aspiring to this for a while, that’s what I’m saying, ok?

This is a way for small bloggers to give recognition to other small bloggers (200 followers or less). Here’s how it works:

Copy & Paste This Whole Post and Replace All Your Information — who awarded you, for example.

The rules:

1. Thank the Liebster Blog presenter who nominated you and link back to their blog.

2. Post 11 facts about yourself, answering the 11 questions you were asked and create 11 questions for your nominees.

3. Nominate 11 blogs who you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been chosen.

4. Display the Liebster Award logo.

5. No tag backs meaning you can’t just re nominate the person who nominated you.

As Solo the First put it “The real purpose behind these nominations are not only as an accolade from a fellow blogger and let’s face it, nothing gently strokes our little writer hearts more than someone telling you they appreciate your work.  In addition to the back patting we need to receive from time to time, it also allows us to get a little more personal as we get to know our increasing blogging community. It also helps drive traffic to your site as we reference one another.”

The questions put forth to me (with my answers) are as follows:

1)  Paper Book or Electronic? I REALLY really tried to love e-books, and every so often I will succeed at reading something on my Dad’s retired kindle, but I just love books too much. And when I say books I mean books. I worked at a local independent bookstore for 4 years and you just don’t get over that smell or those pages or . . .I am seriously a junkie.

2) Who would you have dinner with if you could pick anyone ever? Writer Michelle Tea (who, BTW, is also a queer trying to get knocked up and if you haven’t read Getting Pregnant with Michelle Tea yet, you should now) I started reading her memoirs during my freshman year of college and they changed my life. I have met her twice at RADAR/Sister Spit readings but was too socially awkward to do anything but giggle weirdly and shake her hand. 

3) What kitchen utensil would you be? A spoon, because I think its the most versatile. With a sharp enough edge, it can cut and possibly spear, and obviously is necessary for scooping. I’d like to think I’m that useful and necessary. 

4) If you met the president, what would you say to him? I would say, “Thanks for being a bad ass and doing a lot of really amazing stuff that I honestly didn’t think could get done, like the Affordable Care Act and coming out in favor of LGBTQ rights. But, you also need to shape some shit up. Like Guantanamo. Why isn’t that place closed yet? Also, I’m a little worried about the foreign policy stuff happening. You don’t have to worry about getting reelected, bro. Its time to get shit DONE.”

5) What’s the hardest lesson you have had to learn in your life? I think I am learning it always, and I think I am especially learning it in the midst of trying to get pregnant. It is this: I am not in control. Its not up to me. I am not actually the boss of anyone, not even myself. Man its a hard one. 

6) What’s the best decision you ever made? Deciding to introduce myself to La and ask her out on a pseudo-professional coffee date. I didn’t do that kind of thing. Until I did. And then I met this person who is so 100% awesome for me, who calls me out on stuff and makes me a better version of myself and is REALLY funny and super hot. Seriously. Best. decision.ever. And I made it while going to the bathroom so . . .just saying, sometimes that IS where your best thinking happens. 

7) What’s your favorite musical? Ohmygod this is like picking my favorite child! I love RENT because it was formative but am also a sucker for classics like Carousel and South Pacific. I refuse to choose only one. 

8) What’s your biggest pet peeve? I really don’t understand couples who sit on the same side of the table. 

9) What’s your greatest accomplishment? Surviving to 31. I’m serious. This world can be so ruthless and awful and honestly I didn’t think I would make it this far. So I’m happy that I am here. A close second is learning not to give too many fucks about what other people think. Its possible that B contributed to A. 

10) Where do you see yourself in 15 minutes? Somewhere between work and home. BUt in a little more than that I’ll be celebrating BFF’s birthday! 

11) Where do hope to be in your life by the time you are retired? I have no idea. I’d like to have enough money to retire in a sort of happy comfortable way. I’d like to have some kids that are grown or growing up. I’d like to still love my job and just be retiring because I need more time to garden and write books and play with grandbabies. I’d like to be sitting next to La making fart jokes, just like now, but with more wrinkles. 

Here are my nominations (In no particular order!) I also have no idea how many followers these people currently have, but I love reading them! Also I might be re-nominating you so just take it as the compliment it is, ok?:

Here are my 11 questions:

1)  What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever created?

2) If a movie was made of your life, who would play you?

3) Most memorable dream ever?

4) Creamy peanut butter or smooth. And WHY?

5) The literary character you’d most like to hang out with?

6) Words of wisdom for the next generation?

7) What song is currently soundtracking your life?

8) What quality about your parents do you have but wish you didn’t?

9) What do you want to be when you grow up?

10) How do you take your coffee? 

11) If you could live in any time period (excepting the present), where and when would you live?

Plan C or D

I am an avid listener of “This American Life.” I have been for years. I can directly correlate many periods in my life with stories on TAL, and I’m pretty sure The Breakup episode single handedly got me through my significant and super shitty break-up pre-La. 

Today I am thinking about this episode. About Plan B.

You need to understand that I never really had a Plan A for my life in general. Unlike a lot of other people (like, for example, my brother and my best friend, The Doctor) I didn’t have my career and life story mapped out. I like to say that I have been cheerfully following the breadcrumbs (to some degree of success) for the last 15 years. I have gone where I felt called, applied for jobs I had no experience with, gotten a couple of degrees in things I can’t really use professionally. 

This has worked for me. And if my life looked slightly different, I imagine this might have been my approach to family planning as well. (Just for the record, I don’t mean to sound cavalier about that, although I realize it does.)

But we needed a plan to make this happen. And Plan A happened really easily. The woman I fell in love with had this incredible best friend who was so willing to be our donor. So willing to give us this incredible gift without the compensation of parenthood or cash. La fell in love with BFF before she met me. She knew who her baby’s donor would be before she knew who its other mother would be.

But now we are on to Plan B, or C or D – I’m not entirely sure because I think that’s the point of the This American Life episode, and also of planning in general. Its not like changing trains. Its like slowly slipping off the trail you thought you were on, heading a little bit more south because the smoke is blowing west.

We do have a plan, though. For now. Its not confirmed and there is so much more madness now because there is even less than I can really control. I have to wait for calls back now, for estimated bills and times to plan. I’m not just waiting for time to pass now. 

I took a pregnancy test yesterday. It was negative. On my drive home I imagined how lovely it would be to prove this whole load of shit wrong and be pregnant. And don’t you hear those stories all the time? Wouldn’t it be such a precious anecdote. 

But no. This morning my temperature fell and the spotting picked up and by now it has become a trickle that is undeniably menses. 

So now it really is, for real, on to plan B.

We have decided to go forward with IUI’s using BFF’s sperm. We purchased some recommended supplements (there seems to be disagreement about if this can have any significant impact, but I don’t think its been ruled out) and have him set up to go to the acupuncturist who specializes in fertility. I will be going there too, likely.

We are still waiting to hear back about what the IUI’s might look like. I want to talk to them about medications, success rates, those kinds of things.

I’m going to get an HSG and maybe some additional diagnostics ASAP.

We will try for 3 or 4 months this way. I hope beyond hope we will get pregnant. I hope even more we will get pregnant and carry that pregnancy to term.

I vascillate between feeling good and feeling miserable. In some ways, the plan is not so different than it was before yesterday’s news. But the hope attached to it has shifted. I feel less like a queer couple disadvantaged by our sperm delivery method and more like a very complicated sub fertile triumverate of people. And it just feels fucking hard.

I had a lovely dream this morning. In it, I drove a little go-kart all around, visiting people I loved, who then gave me gifts. At the end of the dream, I was pregnant. This is so obviously ripe with metaphor but what feels most clear now is how happy I was in that dream and the moments just after it faded, and how cranky and morose I am now. The two together, they make me feel mostly just bratty. 

Thank you all, for your kind words and consideration, and your words of wisdom or just your opinion. I am grateful for a container for all of this feeling, and for people who get it.

The Swim Meet


When La and I had our Big Gay Love Extravaganza Event (GLEE) in April 2012, we knew that we wanted our best friends there playing some significant roles, and we knew that we wanted our best friends in costume. Because that is how we roll. BFF and my best buddy served as our “Men of Honor” and were tasked with determining their outfits, with some guidance about style (20’s and 30’s vintage theater.)

BFF initially decided he wanted to wear an old fashioned bathing suit (ie: the jumpsuit shorty kind, often seen with stripes) and a boater hat. I was very excited for this possible costume, since it was both a perfect fit with the theme AND hilarious! Unfortunately, because of cost prohibitations and the inability to rent said suit, BFF went with a different, but still highly fashionable, choice.

I mention this because I think it is oddly appropriate.

This morning, the Texas Ranger called with the results of BFF’s semen analysis. The results? Aside from what appeared to be an ‘incomplete sample’ (although it wasn’t specified if that was because of a screw up or something else) – normal count and normal motility (ie: the quantity of sperm and their ability to swim forward at a normal speed) but a poor morphology.

Morphology is, for those of you not in the know, the shape of the sperm. Here are some possible shapes of human spermatozoa:

ImageThere seems to be a lot of disagreement about what constitutes a “normal” number or quantity of “normal” shaped sperm, varying from 14% to just 4%. BFF’s semen has just 2% of the sperms that are normally shaped.

So . . .if we were to compare sperms to swim teams (because, obviously): Joe’s team is well stocked with swimmer’s that can totally get from one end of the pool to the other, they are just mostly wearing crazy swimsuits and outlandish hats.

The suck of it is that swimmer’s with wonky bathing costumes on can’t get the job done when it comes to fertilizing the egg. They are just not well equipped.

So. What now?

We don’t know.

It continues to be very important to us to use BFF as our donor, as long as that is reasonable and possible. Its not about the sperm being free or easy to access (it never was, although that definitely helped.) Its about our relationship with BFF, and even more so, La’s relationship with him. In the current scenario, having BFF donate feels like the closest thing to having La contribute the genetic material for our kid. It doesn’t make sense in a rational way, but our hearts both know it to be true.

So, on the one hand, we want to explore avenues for making this happen with BFF’s sperm. Because our hearts want that deeply. On the other, there is the reality that the poorer the quality of the sperm, the less likely we are to get pregnant no matter the method. And the longer it takes, the more money we spend and the more heartache we incur.

On the upside, poor morphology with good counts and good motility is the best of the bad situations. From what I’ve been able to read, there is a reasonable chance of success using IUI with this method.

But questions remain . . . .

  • We had initially planned to wait on some of the diagnostic testing for me until after a few IUI attempts. Do we bump that up to make sure we aren’t playing with an even bigger handicap than we think?
  • How many IUI’s do we do with BFF’s sperm before we decided to use an anonymous donor from a bank?
  • Do we investigate using other fertility measures (like drugs) even though it appears that I am ovulating normally?

I realize no one can tell us what to do, but I would appreciate your input, darlings. I realize that many of you didn’t have to think about these things – you got your sperm in vials with counts, motility and morphology all guaranteed to be super-awesome. But maybe you can imagine? For those of you who are using or have used a known donor, or have a male partner – what do you think?

As if to add insult to injury, today I got a spot of pink when I wiped. I realize it may not count me out just yet, but it certainly feels like some salt in the wound. I’m 12 DPO today and have had similar spotting right around this time the last few cycles. My insistence on not tracking symptoms too closely means I don’t have a lot else to cling to, hope wise. I’d been planning to wait to take a test but will probably go ahead and pee on one tonight or tomorrow morning. It would be a lovely surprise, wouldn’t it?

We might be underwater, but I’m not holding my breath.

Happy 100!

OMG, this is my ONE HUNDREDTH POST! (on a side note, it took me 4 tries to spell hundredth correctly – I guess its not a word I write often.)

I can remember birthing this blog (well, actually, birthing the blog on blogger, but I switched not long after.) It feels like it wasn’t so long ago – like this blogging thing is still new territory. In fact, its been just about 9 months – 38 weeks, actually. Which means its more accurate to say that I remember conceiving this blog; I have yet to really birth it. At least, if the gestational period of blogs follows that of human babies.

I thought this would be a record of this experience, and it is. I didn’t guess there were so many other queers out there documenting their path to parenthood, and I didn’t realize what a network could be formed. It has been a gift and a comfort to follow along the stories of so many other people on all different parts of this maddening trajectory – from thinking about babies, to trying to make them, to gestating them, to birthing them and then on to raising them.

If I am honest, I would tell you I thought I would be pregnant by now. On Monday evening I found out an aquaintance/girl I went on a couple of dates with many years ago is pregnant. I wrote her an e-mail saying “congrats! yay gaybies!” and also “will you tell me what you did and how it went?” She obliged and admitted they got knocked up on their first IUI. This morning I thought about what that experience must be like. To try something like this and just have it . . .work. I think I am glad it didn’t work the first time, but I also wonder now if I can imagine getting a positive pregnancy test anymore. Even with the burbling hope of another two week wait in my chest, I still can’t honestly see us getting a positive test. Its just out of my ability to imagine at this point; it wasn’t in February. I’m also sure it will. Sometime soon.

I thought in celebration of Blog Post 100, I would clue you in on some of the most hilarious/creepy/weird search engine terms that have landed people at my blog:

-excited about tracking ovulation (me too!!!)

-lesbian babymoob (I think this was maybe supposed to be babymoon?? or babyboom?)

-why am i resentful sex tampons birth control lesbian (Nothing on the web can answer that question for you)

-smart lesibane mom

-lesbianism fairly urine between two girls

-awesome sperm shacks

-needleless syringe made my ass bleed when will it stop?

+ a LOT of stuff that is creepy dirty and I won’t subject you to (its the gay thing, isn’t it?) and A LOT of fat girl pin up searches which seem mostly not f’d up. The great world of google searches is a fascinating peak into the human mind.

I have resolved to NOT look for/record/obsess over any ‘symptoms’ I experience during this TWW. This means I am limiting my own weird google searches. I have, instead, taken to reading the Plus Size Mommy Memoirs and Plus Size Birth (on a side note, I HATE ‘plus size’ although I know its widely accepted. I prefer “fat” as it seems more, you know, accurate. But I get that people have ambivalent feelings about that. I do too.) Also, Birth Without Fear if you’re not yet familiar. Somehow, this feels generally more productive and comforting than obsessing over everything that is happening. Then again, I’m only 5 days past ovulation. So . . .we shall see how long I hold out.

In other news, BFF has an appointment on Monday to get the ol’ swim team checked out. I’m still hopeful that we will get the results to our own little test that will make the $150 one moot, but I’m not taking any chances. In between now and that good ol’ HPT is a trip to Portland, OR for our dear friends’ wedding (with stops to see some really great babies who we haven’t met yet!) – which should help pass the time.

I’m especially hoping this try works so I can say our kid was conceived on the 4th of July, which would be fun because the 4th of july is like such a non-holiday for me. really, I kind of hate it. I just don’t like blowing stuff up or commemorating blowing stuff up, you know? So, that would be ironic and fun.

Wait #6, the fly by the seat of your pants wait.

Doctor’s Orders

And so begins, possibly, a new era of the baby making saga.

Yesterday we went and saw a “full spectrum OB-GYN” Practice (ie: an OB/GYN who does some fertility work as well) who had been recommended to us by a lesbian couple who are also trying to conceive using a known donor. Due to a bunch of rescheduling mishaps, the appointment was with a different doctor than we had initially planned on seeing (that is, the specific doc recommended to us)

On Monday, during my lunch break, I looked around on the practice’s website and found the bio of the doctor we were scheduled to see. And I just about lost my shit. There, amongst his accolades and degrees earned was this:

“Raised in the mid-west from a strong Catholic family of twelve, Dr. Lennon has a sincere appreciation of traditional family values.”

Maybe this doesn’t phase you, but I’m going to go ahead and guess that many queers would have the same response I did. Which was to feel a deep and abiding fear strike deep into my heart.

Monday night, La, BFF and I made a plan of action for if the doctor ended up being a bigoted asshole. We decided to be calm, collected, professional and strong. We decided to not walk into the office with judgement based solely on this phrase, just as we wouldn’t want to be judged. But my heart still raced and I, admittedly, did try and choose a few incredibly brilliant come-backs for any potential shitty comments.

We showed up to the appointment – all three of us arriving at different times – and waited. I showed up a full half hour early, amped on a half caff americano spiked with sugar syrup. BFF showed up so late he had to be shown back to the room. La was, of course, perfectly on time.

The MA who took us back was great. She was prepared for there to be three of us (although there were only two at that moment, see above) and clearly knew who was who. She was kind, good humored, and funny. As soon as we sat down and told her BFF was on his way, La asked if the doctor was ok with us and how things were working. She smiled and said “OMG YES! This is the most liberal practice EVER!” And went on to report exactly how and why they were awesome. Cue giant sigh of relief.

Before she could finish taking my medical history, someone popped their head in and told us that the doctor had to go to a delivery and we could either wait for him or see one of the midwives. A little frustrated, we decided to see the midwife. Once the door was closed, the MA warned us that this midwife was the “most conservative” in the practice, but that we would be fine still and would get good information from her and then could continue seeing the original doctor. Cue sharp intake of breath. again.

The woman who walked in was a straight talking shoot from the hip middle aged woman in a breezy black blouse and white tennis shoes. “So, the three of you want to get pregnant, eh?” she asked immediately. Yes, we nodded. We do. “Well, tell me what you’ve already done and what you want to do next.” She was kind of scary, but in a super sweet way. Like a Texas ranger housewife.

I explained our 5 failed attempts at home insemination, detailing that BFF provides his sample in a sterile cup, brings it to us, we insert it with a needless syringe. That we do this somewhere between 2-6 times in my peak fertility period. That I know when to do so because I track my basal body temperature, my cervical fluid, my cervical position and use ovulation prediction kits.

“So, you’re ovulating?” She asked.

“Um. Yes? I mean. I think so? I mean, all of the evidence I have here suggests . . .” and then I pulled out the folder of my printed BBT charts and showed her. “This is what ovulation looks like, right?”

“Yep, looks like ovulation to me. Sounds like you work.”

I was confused at first. Did she mean that I was ‘working’ at understanding this? and if so, was that a judgement? Was she asking if I had a job? if so, that was a weird non-sequitor. Did she mean . . .it sounds like I am fertile?

“Um. Yeah. Yeah I guess I do.”

She then turned to BFF and asked if he had ever fathered a child. He mentioned the accidental pregnancy he caused when he was 15, and then mentioned that was a while ago. She asked him his age and did the math. “yeah, let’s get you a sperm analysis.”

“Once we do that, you all should do IUIs. You know what that is?”

Yes, we said. We did. But . . .

“Can you do that? I mean. Will you have to freeze and quarantine BFF’s sperm? Because everyone we’ve talked to has said . . .”

“What? Why do I care where you get your sperm?” The texas ranger asked.

“Well . . .its just . . .I mean . . .they’ve said some things about liability and . . .” At this point we launched into an abbreviated version of the sperm saga we have heard. That our GP didn’t care how we got pregnant but couldn’t help us with fertility. That the OB at the other practice didn’t care how we got pregnant but couldn’t help us with fertility. That the RE we got referred to could totally help us with fertility but could only do it with frozen anonymous sperm OR with the sperm of my *MALE SEXUAL PARTNER* and no it didn’t matter how many times this dudes sperm had been in me.

The Texas Ranger didn’t care. Nope. Not a bit. She explained that they could do IUI’s in the office with BFF’s sperm, which they could wash either there or at a nearby lab. No freezing. No quarantining. Sample that day. Bim bam boom.

And with that, the Texas ranger wrote a referral for BFF to get the semen analysis, told us she will call with result and, assuming at home try #6 doesn’t work and BFF’s team is ship-shape, we will do our first IUI cycle in August. It will likely be unmedicated and unmonitored, although the details weren’t discussed. If the IUI’s don’t work after two cycles, I will get an HSG and blood work done. And then we will go from there.

I got an increased dose of thyroid meds for my clinical sort of normal but TTC-high thyroid results as well. Score on that, since the GP wouldn’t up my dose since she only goes by the regular guidelines, not those established for women trying to conceive.

I feel more hopeful than I have in a while. I’m nervous about increased medical intervention, but also feel like it could shorten the waiting and take a lot of the load off of me. We still get to use the donor we adore, and while we will be paying more than free (or, actually, the cost of OPKs and bulk orders of syringes and cups) the cost is still quite low as these things go, and we have a benefactor who is willing to support some of the costs.

And, of course, there is still a chance it will all be unnecessary. That in approximately two weeks we will be pregnant and can return to the OB for a prenatal visit instead of an IUI.

Return from Paradise


We are back.

If only everyone could spend a week in Cancun every time they have to wait to try again to make a baby. It really is an excellent way to stop thinking about the minutiae of getting pregnant and just really exist in the moment. I vote free beach vacays for all people TTC – every cycle you don’t get knocked up, you get to go away. Who’s with me?

Unfortunately, you can only suspend reality for so long before it comes crashing back down on your head. My usual M.O. is to have a mild-moderate panic attack on the flight home when I begin subconciously making the list of crap in my head. I staved it off until we were in customs this time.

But I have also managed to hold on to a teeny tiny bit of paradise. By this I don’t mean the white sand or water so blue you don’t remember its salt or a mojito whenever I ask for it. I mean bobbing in waves unaware of time, I mean moments without narrative or checklists or somethinganythingijustneedtothink, I mean seeing – actually seeing – all of the things around me, I mean looking at my girl’s face and feeling all of the big beautiful feelings bubble up.

So I’m going to try and float with these feelings, even in the midst of re-writing my work plan for the funder who it seems like I can never please, in the middle of managing money when an unforeseen expense or 30 pops up, and yes, right here smack dab in the center of trying to make a baby.

And we are smack dab in the middle of it, again. We arrived home on CD12 and I commenced peeing on things. I’m expecting to ovulate between now and Thursday and we did our first insemination last night.

BFF is currently living with us while he and BFFBF look for a new place to live. BFF got a new puppy (the biggest floppiest most adorable grand pyrenees named Yankee!) and the puppy is also living with us. Our house is kind of like Three’s Company on a farm right now, and yes its as ridiculous as it sounds. On the upside, we can do inseminations any old time we feel like it . . .which will probably be every other day until the positive OPK pops up, and then a few more tries.

ImageA few other notes . . .

On DOMA . . .Our Cancun resort didn’t have free wifi and pat of my vacation plan was to be as unplugged as possible. So, we didn’t find out about the Supreme Court decisions until we got home. And what a fuckin’ mixed bag, eh? I’m super psyched that DOMA was struck down and that same sex marriage will be federally recognized on some level. I’m also glad the shenanigans in California got addressed. I know that the DOMA ruling doesn’t entirely take care of the issues (I do happen to live in a state where a similar amendment has been enshrined in the state constitution) but I also think this is a sign that the BS is on its way out. Supreme Court precedent is a big f’ing deal, you know?

But OMG can we talk about the Voting Rights Act for a minute? That is BAD BAD BAD. The irony that this decision came at the same time as the Paula Deen scandal is just too much Americanism for me. Why are people not outraged about the VRA being dismantled in the same way they are ourtraged at Paula Deen saying the “N” word? For serious?!

And also . . .I really really really hope that now the marriage stuff is beginning to happen that the LGBTQ ‘community’ can start paying attention to the other million issues that really deeply impact queer folks. Like immigration reform, and health care, and homelessness. And I hope we care as much about those things as we do about the right to get married. I hope we give just as many shits about the way people of color just got totally disenfranchised as we do about the ability to file federal taxes jointly. Now that our relationships aren’t wedge issues, please let us keep standing on the right side of justice.

On Doctors  . . .

Tomorrow the triumverate goes to visit the OB/GYN. This appointment has been a long time coming. It was initially scheduled for three weeks ago, but has been rescheduled a million times (by both us and the doc) and it felt like it was never coming. Now that it is, I’m terrified. I’m scared of the possible homophobia (even though we have a referral from another queer couple using a known donor); I’m terrified of fatphobia (kind like this) and having to defend my body and my life; I’m terrified of finding things out that I don’t want to know about maybe why we aren’t pregnant yet.

But, I’m also hopeful. We have the opportunity to find out that everything is OK, or to fix things that might be getting in the way. We have a chance to ask a lot of questions. We have access to things that might support knowing, understanding, or making this happen.