Romancing the sperm

You may have read my earlier post here about the way that courting our donors brought out this inner-hetero in me that wanted to clean and cook and make sure everything was perfect for ‘our guys.’ Well lately, I’ve had this strange desire to make sure that I’ll be at my absolute best for the insemination. It’s like I think the little sperm will be able to look out and decide whether or not it wants to make a home in me based on the silky smoothness of my legs or the colour of my toenails. So I spent far too much of my Saturday at the beauty salon getting my legs waxed and today I just had my hair cut for the first time since January (it’s long, and I normally get away with cutting it myself). I feel like I’m getting ready to go to a ball…It is nice to feel prepared and to have something else to be working on to pass the time. I guess I am also conscious of wanting to look my best in front of Dr Y&F.

And I was about to write about how today is the first day where I’ve felt totally normal and have not been conscious of the fertility drugs. However, I just went in to the bathroom to shown Lo (who’s in the bath tub) a card I bought for good hetero friends of ours who have just gotten engaged. The woman is a true romantic and the proposal is a dream come true for her. When it was our wedding last year she bought us one of those huge, elaborate, embossed golden wedding cards with lots of sappy wording. We knew she was projecting all her nuptial desires onto us! Although the card was a little more elaborate than our own tastes, we really appreciated that she took our wedding so seriously (rather than the euphemistic congratulations cards we received. ) So, this afternoon, after the hairdresser, I took it upon myself to go and buy a similarly elaborate engagement card for us to give to them. I was pretty proud of myself as I found the ultimately cheesy prince-charming style card that I knew she was going to just love. So there I was showing Lo the card while she soaked in the tub, and in what only could be a moment of hormonally induced clumsiness, I somehow dropped the card on the floor, picked it up, spun around, and dropped it into the toilet! Arg! I have no idea how that happened. So, back to the newsagent tomorrow to try and track down another and I’m pretty sure this was the last one. Although there’s plenty of other designs to rival this one. This episode may just be me, and nothing to do with the drugs, but I would prefer to blame something!

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