Nearly at the start line
The sperm has passed its quarantine period with the all clear. The consent forms have been received. My period has arrived – the last period for a long time that won’t mean anything. Our donors are modelling a perfect combination of being whole-heartedly detached and supportive at the same time. Despite some silent panic from our side about them getting blood tests done and consent forms organised, they provided everything on time, as requested and so happily. Dr Young and Funky called me to check in and said ’see you at the insemination!’ (that was a weird conversation to be having at my desk at work). We have spoken to Buffy the Sperm Nurse who wants us to come in for ‘Nurse Chat’ on Friday morning (this involves ticking a box called ‘Nurse Chat’ on a clipboard when we arrive in the waiting room, parting with a large sum of cash, being given a truckload of drugs and some advice on injecting.) I start the injectibles on Saturday morning and she expects we’ll start the blood tests and monitoring next Wednesday.
It sounds very perfect and it generally is. It was a tough few weeks in the lead-up, and Lo & I got really worried that things might fall through, for no apparent reason, except our donors don’t provide us with regular update emails – they just do what we ask of them. Lo thinks that the fact that they are complicit, but slightly non-communicant on the email, is exactly what we want from a donor. She would be worried about what it indicated about their emotional stake in the process if they were donors that were writing updates about each stage of the process with utter excitement. I think she’s right. They both wrote perfect things on the consent forms about their reason for donating being wanting to help us become parents because they thought that we’d be wonderful.
I’m pretty impressed that we have pulled this off. That we asked them and they said yes, that we’ve managed it in crazy timeframes and over a long and difficult distance. I was so pleased to see Lo’s face when all the forms and tests rolled into our inbox. She looked like the cat that got the cream and I know that the known donor arrangement, especially with them, makes a huge difference to how she feels. I am feeling really comfortable about our choice too and do feel such gratitude for our donors and the seemingly ultra-healthy dynamic we’ve got going with them.
We both freaked out that we’re about to start. It’s such a wild proposition that we could be pregnant in less than a month, or that we could be starting on a very long and emotionally draining rollercoaster of ttc efforts that will span many months. Sitting equally open to both eventualities is a tough ask. But we’re excited. In her phone conversation, Dr Young & Funky said ‘boy, six months is up already? that passed fast!’
It hasn’t from our perspective. Not at all. But it’s been very good to have a pre-ttc sabbatical imposed on us. So long to read, think, plan, prepare, become ready.
We’re ready. Let’s go.
Revelations
It’s been a very good weekend. (Apart from the Saturday morning spent at work, but even that makes me feel like I am starting a very busy week on a firm footing, and I have been uber productive on the home/personal admin front for the rest of the weekend.) Lo & I had a really really good conversation yesterday afternoon, a long D&M most of which took place lying in our bed looking out to the gum trees and open sky outside our window. I feel like we have reached some peace on the parental relations:
- Lo realised that she misjudged her mother and the relationship they have when she decided to tell about our plans to ttc. She was doing it in a place of openness and intimacy, but the mother mistook it for permission-seeking. She’s been shocked by the revelation that her mum has not moved forward as much as she had thought she had on the gay acceptance stuff. The charade of acceptance was much easier to deal with than the honesty that came to light two weeks ago.
- We both realised that people (or at least the kind of people that constitute our families of origin) do not want to know the details of our reproductive life (i.e. that we have one) and will feel that they need to give their views if they are engaged on it. We have decided we would prefer not to hear their views.
- We will not tell my family or the rest of hers until the 3 month pregnant mark. Then we will tell the news in good faith and with excitement and let them deal with how they choose to respond. This has been standard practice in my family with the birth of my nieces and nephews. My mother is actually quite ambivalent about babies. We need to draw a line on our responsibility not give these people too much of a stake by engaging them in the process. We are married and so hopefully, at least for some, having a baby seems like a logical next step.
- However, I know that people will be surprised by the pregnancy, given my work situation (i.e. that I am going overseas to work for three years and will not be taken long maternity leave) I think they have tagged me as a career girl and that there’s a baby on board will come as a shock. I am sure that my mother will have something to say about me planning to take 12 weeks maternity leave and for Lo to stay home with the baby.
- But we’re learning that as mothers, women are always judged, and we’d better be prepared to face criticisms at this stage as I am sure they’ll follow once we have a baby. Everyone will always have something to say on our choices on work/family, breast/bottle, homebirth, co-sleeping, modern cloth nappies etc etc.
- My mother would probably prefer to deal with this privately, and with as little information as possible. My father will probably be supportive as we are close and he’s pretty low-key. My brothers and sister will probably not care very much either way. It’s very sad to me if this is going to cause my mum pain, but I need to draw a line.
- Lo’s mother has assumed all this power by being brought into our confidence. Which has been an expensive lesson that we’ve learnt the hard way. We don’t want to duplicate the situation with my family. Given that we’ve made up our minds, we don’t want to start a dialogue.
- Lo and I have both realised, and agreed, that we have a lot of work to do on our relationships with our respective mothers. A lot. (I am sure that you, dear reader, are saying ‘d’uh!’ right now, but this was a bit of a revelation to us).
So, in part, this is an adventure about faith in our own convictions. We had a lovely time in B.orders this morning where I read a good part of Knock Yourself Up: No Man, No Problem: A Tell-All Guide to Becoming a Single Mom. The author is a lesbian, but the book is geared to all single women contemplating single-parenthood. I am so desparate to get my hands on any queer-focussed ttc literature, that I devoured it in childrens literature section as story-time took place around me (and Lo read something on food and ethics and farmers markets next to me). There were some good chapters on donor sperm and known donor arrangements. The known donor arrangements profiled were all disastrous and fraught with custody battles. We still feel intuitively good about our donors, but open to other options if need be, and still a bit perplexed by the silence on the email. The sperm comes out of quarantine this Friday (I can’t believe it’s come round!) and they’ve said they’ll do their blood tests that day to get the results as quickly as possible. The test results; the consent forms; a period; and then lift-off. I am really glad we’ve reached some resolution on the parent-telling stuff. That feels like a big break-through and the best decision in the circumstances.
More courage
Lo’s mum’s response really hit us hard… I don’t think we quite realised it at the time, but for the past week we have been a bit thrown. It’s like our baby-making house was in order and then a huge storm came in and blew everything around and now we’re straightening the photo frames on the mantelpiece and clinging to the glassware and gathering things back together.
It certainly has stirred a lot up and resulted in a lot of misdirected anxiety. We are a bit worried about silence from the donors, the consent forms are yet to come back and we haven’t had an email in a week and a half. I know that they: a) are men and so do not know that a week and a half is a long time in the world of a focussed ttc woman; b) are super busy with crazy work commitments; c) are plagued by intermittent communications; and d) may well have sent and written back by snail mail and not thought to send an advance email advising of this. I hate that this process turns me into an obsessive person who is second guessing them and making excuses – and I do think this is one of the downsides of a known donor arrangement (or at least the arrangement we have) that we are negotiating a relationship with a man/ men on really unfamiliar terrain, and it’s hard not to let weird power stuff get in there. And trying to play it cool on top.
Last time we hadn’t heard from them (very early in the process when we were about to start the tests and deposits etc) I spent a few days in the depths of not knowing and obsession and then it worked out with a very plausible and reasonable explanation (which was all solved by a telephone call). Boy I was nervous then. It’s because THERE IS SO MUCH AT STAKE!
Lo’s mum’s response got me really worried about my parents’ response. I have had some very good news on work and study fronts lately, and when I have called my parents to tell them I have heard their voices full of pride, excitement and wonder that it is their daughter telling them this good news. It’s so nice to feel affirmed and appreciated. I just wish I would have that experience when I tell them I am pregnant, like straight women do. It’s so worrying to me that it won’t be that way. That it will need to be carefully and painfully managed. That there won’t be yelps of excitement. We saw our friends S&L on the weekend and L said that all parents were concerned about how they would explain it to their friends. Her mother had been trying to convince them to adopt as it would be much easier to explain to her friends that her single daughter had adopted rather than her daughter’s lesbian partner had given birth to a baby. The only reason L’s parents know that they are ttc is because S is totally upfront and unapologetic and has family dinner-table conversations with L’s sister in law, an obstetrician, about IVF methods and keeps trying to engage L’s parents on discussion of baby names. There’s probably something to be said for being that upfront.
I am still weighing up whether not to tell my parents anything until I am pregnant, whether to give them a hint (such as saying something like ‘Lo and I would like to have kids one day’ although I just can’t work out where that would fit into conversation) or whether to bring them into my confidence, and do the decent thing, by telling them in advance. I was wondering whether a letter might be a good idea. I was thinking that I could prepare a letter that sets the issue out, tells them how much I love them and how important this is to us, and has a FAQs section if they want to refer to it for more details, and perhaps attached some positive articles about GLBT families and even a wholesome book like ‘Families of Value’ or some other hetero focussed profile of GLBT families. As my parents live on the other side of the country, my dad often posts me packages of newspaper clippings – it’s his way of showing he cares and keeping connected – I am wondering whether I could reappropriate this idea. Or whether this is just too much information for my conservative and very English parents who would prefer not to discuss these things.
So I feel a bit stuck. I don’t think that we should tell the ‘how’ of it until the donor six month wait is over (July 25) as I just wouldn’t want to pre-empt it just in case things change. But that doesn’t leave much time before our first insemination around mid August. After which it’s possible I could be pregnant! But not if I keep up this stressing and obsessing. More yoga, more swimming, more clarity, more order, more certainty, more grace, more confidence, more acceptance of the way things are, more supportive voices for Lo & I, more strength and more courage. That is my prayer.
Family values?
Lo told her mother tonight. They went for dinner and I met them afterwards. I had been at another dinner and then a class at the gym. I had no idea what I was walking into when I went to meet them. Lo’s mother told me that Lo had told her our news and that there were three components of her response:
1. She was worried for the child – and how it would feel and be treated because it had lesbian parents
2. She was worried about our arrangement with our donors – while it might seem so great now, they could fall in love with the baby and try to gain custody
3. She did not want us to do it. Did not agree with it. Would prefer we didn’t do it. Would prefer we weren’t gay and were just really good friends. But has undertaken to not mention that again.
She was at pains to point out that she knew it was coming. She loves to come across like she knows what’s going on before we do. And, because she said all this in a calm tone with a smile on her face, this is meant to be a good outcome. There was no mention of being supportive, no mention of seeing the child as her grandchild (it would be her first), and she did not want to hear anything at all about the process (and felt it was inappropriate that Lo was volunteering this information). And she perceives that her harsh judgement of us would have no negative consequences to her (i.e. she can say these things to us without feeling like we will judge her or cut her off). I have so many feelings, which I think I will write about in coming posts, but basically Lo and I are pretty disappointed. . .And I am now thinking a letter would be a good way to go when it comes to telling my parents.
And, in case you’re wondering, Lo and I both separately responded to the mother’s points with the same arguments, which I am certain you, dear reader, are all too familiar with:
1. That the reason children of same sex parents get bullied is the fault of parents who bring up children who are homophobic bullies rather than gay people who bring up well-adjusted children. Research shows that children of same sex couples are no worse off than other kids, and generally more resilient and accepting of diversity.
2. We see our arrangement with our donors as a leap of faith, and feel open to how that might play out in the future. We support some contact between the children and the donors, and if somehow it turns out that there’s a shared custody arrangement, this wouldn’t be the worst outcome ever. We were conscious and intentional about wanting to facilitate contact and access to positive male role models and are open to how that might work out, knowing the risks, but also what we see as the advantages of a known donor arrangement. We trust our instincts and the good arrangement we have set up.
3. I am not even going to respond to that one. We agreed to put that one aside.
Tomorrow’s dye job
I have my HSG tomorrow at 1130. The clinic’s approach is that they make sure everything’s clear before starting. So they squirt some dye through my fallopian tubes and take an x-ray to check they’re not blocked. It’s meant to be a bit painful, but it also is meant to increase conception if done in the preceding three months before starting, which is why I left it until this point. I hope it goes ok. I am going to call in sick to work. I had thought about saying I had an appointment and taking the day off in advance on sick leave, but I thought it was just easier to call in and not explain. Lo will come along to the appointment. I do hope there’s not a fuss about her being there with me. You’re meant to bleed afterwards. Argh.
My mother, my self
I dreamt last night that I had a baby in a room of my parents’ house. I had still not told my parents that we were planning to have a baby. So I walked out into my parents’ kitchen and everyone was wondering where this new born baby, wrapped in a blanket in my arms, had come from. I explained that it was Lo and I’s, and my mother said ‘Oh my Gawd’ (as my Mum is quite a staunch Christian, I never hear her say Oh my God, but I remember once in my childhood, she said oh my Gawd at a point of absolute exasperation and I was so shocked) with a tone of exasperation and ‘what has my crazy daughter gone and done now’. A bit like when Lo and I were getting married and my mum kept saying ‘just remind me, why are you doing this again?’ as if, to her, who has been married 47 years, the idea of lifelong commitment was totally unfathomable.
But I digress, so this dream was so vivid, and really brought home the idea that it could easily get too late to tell them. So, they’re coming over to visit at the end of September. I subtly tried to steer their visit dates away from when we would be inseminating or testing or injecting etc. – which left some very narrow windows. I am still not sure how to broach it. Some advice is that if they’re not going to be supportive it is not useful to bring them into the loop too early, however, other advice is that telling them only once you’re pregnant doesn’t often give them time to process it – and they feel left out that you have not told them sooner. By the time they visit, we could be pregnant, or more possibly, in the midst of ttcing efforts.
I told Lo I was thinking about seeing a counsellor about it, or more usefully, calling the GLBT counselling line to get some GLBT specific advice. Lo suggested I call PFLAG and seek advice on how parents would have liked their GLBT children to have handled it, and advice they might have for us. In principle, this is a great idea, but, as I pointed out to A, the PFLAG parents are accepting people, whereas my parents have not been able to come to a point of wholehearted acceptance (despite well over 25 years of experience – as my much older sister is also lesbian).
Apart from the sexuality stuff, we have a great relationship, I speak to my parents at least once a week, often twice or more, with a great deal of warmth and fondness. So it’s complex. And, at the moment, it’s really hard talking about what’s going on in my life, without mentioning most of it. I feel duplicitous and deceitful.
Tight timing
It all seems to be about time at the moment. Our sperm comes out of quarantine on the 25 July. The final requirement is another HIV, Hep C etc test for our donors before the clinic will allow us to inseminate. As I expect our insemination will probably be around the 17 August, I thought we had a decent window to get the tests done. But: the clinic wants the test results before we can even ‘book-on’ for our cycle that month – i.e. around 1 August. Which makes timing incredibly tight.
Our donors have been wonderful throughout the process and have been pretty complicit with all the administration required. But we have project-managed the process pretty carefully the whole way along: booking appointments, writing instructions, calling ahead to the clinic to ensure the bill is fixed up. We wanted to make sure there was as little impact on them as possible. When they undertook all the screening and depositing in January I wrote them up a little chart with each appointment, what to expect, where to go etc. Like most men, they loved being taken care of like this. But now they are overseas, we have a lot less control over arrangements, and hell, I have no idea where they should go for a blood test. They had said they would take care of it, and I have no doubt they will, but they had also expressed some doubt about the pathology services where they are and how quickly the could get results. Now that we have such a short timeframe (i.e. the 1 August one) my nerves have set in about we can get a blood test taken and pathology results in a developing country and faxed back to Australia in a 5-6 day timeframe.
(insert interlude) …. rather than writing about my problems, I decided to take matters into my own hands and, thanks to some good internet research, I have just called up the 24 hour private hospital there and got put through to one of the laboratory technicians, a delightful man called Jessie. I am sure getting a call from some random Australian was the highlight of his night shift. The good news is: they can do all the tests we need and have results ready in 24 hours! And it won’t cost a gazillion dollars. I am so glad. And the fact that it’s 24 hours means that our donors can go in on the Friday evening to get the tests done. Meaning, we should be able to go ahead for August! And I can relax. Almost. Just waiting on the final tranche of consent forms to come back from them. And sorting out our future.
So, Inshallah, we have one month until lift-off.
