Posts Tagged ‘bisexual’

The first risk of IVF: twins.

September 7, 2008

On the totally gross and lighthearted side of things, when we were discussing IVF, TMD said, ‘Boy, if we had twins that would really blow Niece out of the water.’

God, I feel so stressed. Picturing twins makes me feel something alternating between excitement and horror. Still, when the consultant said twins were a real risk, we just sort of looked blankly at each other. The only real risk we face is not having a baby because there’s not enough money. No baby versus two babies? Not our idea of a risk.

TMD also said, ‘Wow, if we had two babies at once it would be like bulk buying.’

It’s nice to laugh amid the  stress of it all.

Advertisements

Holding the faith.

September 7, 2008

Yesterday: untold stress, overwhelm, tears, then….a surprise birthday party! Had such a good time, relaxed, will write more about it tomorrow. Have relaxed today as well, but then back to thinking/reading about the things that stressed me yesterday, and am left feeling so tired and emotional. I keep thinking of ringing Kleinette and booking a one-off session, because I just need to have a good weep.

Our appointment at the fertility clinic was yesterday. We never expected IVF to be offered as a first treatment – they briefly explained all the options, and because we’ve never discussed IVF we went ahead with a more in-depth look at stimulated cycle IUI. I will write technical explanations when I don’t feel so fucked up.

At any rate, I think we are seriously considering IVF. If I am willing to donate half my eggs, I get the treatment at a hugely reduced cost – and the success rates are five times that of a natural cycle IUI. This makes IVF both more affordable and much more attractive as far as outcomes go.

I’m just overwhelmed by the idea of daily injections, suppositories, little egg-babies in a petri dish who don’t survive, little egg-babies in my womb who don’t burrow right into my uterine lining. I am in excellent health. I am not an infertile woman. All of my scans have been excellent, my hormone levels are kickin’, and there is always a chance I could conceive without going through IVF. But we only have enough money for three attempts.

IVF success rate at this clinic is 50-55%, and the consultant said because I’m so young it would be nearer to the 55% mark. I also have no reason to believe that I couldn’t support a pregnancy, as I am fertile – unlike many women who go through IVF.

Egg sharing means more tests to make sure I’m not carrying a freaky disease, which pushes the timeline back. I don’t think I mind.

Yesterday I felt so overwhelmed that when we left the clinic I started crying on the street and told TMD I don’t want to do this anymore – I just want to adopt.

I don’t know what the point of this entry is….venting, I suppose. Offloading. The sorts of things I would be saying to Kleinette if I was sitting on her couch. I don’t want to have to be logical. Logic tells me that we should definitely do IVF – and I am happy with that choice. Despite that, I still feel scared, upset, and confused.

All I/we wanted was a baby. I never thought when I was growing up that it would be this fucking involved. Babymaking is, inherantly, supposed to be an intimate act that brings pleasure. I suppose I am mourning the fact that TMD and I have to do it differently.

I just wish I could know it would work.

 

OH. I’ll tell you one more thing, though. Nichiren Buddhism talks about something called sancho shima. I won’t pretend to be incredibly philosophical, but merely say that this means that when you are about to make a very strong step in life, life invariably throws up obstacles. Getting to the clinic yesterday was unbelieveable. We almost missed the fucking appointment, perhaps more details later.

Anyway, I was chanting in my head – the first chanting I’ve done in ages – to arrive by 12. When we finally made it into the city and got on public transport, guess who sat down across from us? A woman reading a book about Nichiren Buddhism – which has NEVER happened before.

Perhaps this is me striving to make coincidence meaningful, but it felt pretty fucking profound, I can tell you. We also made it to the clinic exactly at 12.

Thirty facts about me/my life/etc on my thirtieth birthday!

September 5, 2008

My father has borderline personality disorder,
my mother went into labour with me
on labour day,
my grandmother marched in the first
union march in the
country I was born in.

I love buying journals and have trouble
finishing them. I have five holes in my
ears and no more hole
in my tongue.
I have one crown in my mouth,
no tattoos, and
a serious distaste of earthworms.

I’m 5’8, taller than my mother (only just)
and shorter than my
father. Once, playing under a sleeping bag,
I watched my sister swallow a
penny.
I met TMD in 1998, I moved to this
country permanently in 2001 (we can
ignore the extensive visiting in 2000).

My grandfather had a huge collection
of
Reader’s Digest books,
and he ate popcorn every night from
a giant wooden bowl.
He and my grandmother were
first generation in my home country.

I never thought about being
from that country until I moved
far away from it, and my accent and cultural
habits made me an oddity.

I dislike cutting my toenails (because it’s
icky, not because I want long claw hooks),
I’ve worn glasses since I was eight,
I lost my virginity when I was 16. My wife
has a killer voice
and plays the guitar like a dream.

I have never met my father’s side
of my family,
I have never met my grandparents’
across-the-ocean family,
I wonder sometimes how they fared in
the Holocaust, with all those
death camps sprinkled around.

I am not German or Austrian.

I’ve slept with more boys
than girls
but been with TMD probably longer
than all other relationships combined.
I’m a serial monogomist.

I used to tap dance.
I cannot do a cartwheel.

(I think I counted correctly. Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday in one way or another. The first fact of my 31st year: I love comments on this diary. It makes me feel listened to, valued, and like someone has reached out to make a connection with me. Love to you all!)

High school romance, take one.

September 4, 2008

Jaysus Kee-rist.

The love-of-my-life-before-TMD, my first love, just friended me on Facebook. Of course I knew he existed in the Facebook world of things, because he was friends with some of my friends. I just swore to myself that no matter how badly I wanted to see his profile I would not friend him – and I wondered if he would friend me.

Of course, we can ignore me essentially asking my sister to copy and paste his profile into an email.

I listed us as having gone to high school together and skipped the ‘we dated’ option as I felt it might be a bit controversial. Especially as our last conversation was him saying he was worried he had turned me gay, and I lied and said I wasn’t. Not one of my proudest moments, but I think I still crazily thought we would get back together.

He’s a really great guy and it would be nice to send the occasional email, but don’t know if that will happen. I have decided that I am prettier than his wife, though, so that makes me happy. I won’t tell anyone (except you) that I immediately started looking through my own Facebook pictures to see if I looked monstrous or hot. I think I fall somewhere in between.

Crazy (again, a word I seem to keep repeating) that we stopped dating about twelve years ago. Old school, man, old school!

I’m glad he friended me first. This somehow makes up for the fact that he ripped my heart out, and I therefore ripped out the hearts of everyone else I dated – until TMD. I try to be gentle with hers.

Juliet, Juliet, answer my questions or I’ll tell Romeo how to find you.

September 2, 2008

Seriously, I thought I ovulated later than that chart said I did. Where are all the other baby-crazy women who look at each other’s charts and offer words of wisdom? I’ve stalked one or two baby-making blogs in  my life, and I think the key is only writing about babies.

I’m not that kind of blogger – at least I don’t think I am. I do know I’ve started a journal for/to the baby. A paper one, and I keep imagining my child reading it as an adult.

Anyway.

I need to find a way into some sort of trying to conceive message board or group. I’ve held back before because I was sort of just a fan of the whole thing, but now I feel like I’m about to be initiated – and I want to have as clear a picture of these things as possible.

Like if it’s an ovulation predictor kit, why does fertility friend think I’ve ovulated the same day? When is the best time to check my wee for the hormone surge? When have other lesbian mums (or anyone who did IUI) had the procedure in their cycles? How did they feel afterwards? How many goes did it take?

Do the current statistics of success rates reflect everyone, including those with fertility problems? What are the rates for women without fertility problems?

Is a natual cycle best? Could I donate some eggs if I had to?

….Where online do these people hang out? I would ideally like a queer support group, but I’m not adverse to friendly straight gals.

Gay musings.

August 27, 2008

People keep finding this diary by googling ‘How can I tell if I’m gay’ or some variation. I tell you, if you’re even questioning, good for you!

I realised this morning that I simply did not realise that the way I saw the world and my place in it was any different from the way other people perceived things. I’m currently rereading House of Stairs, a book I read over and over as a child – and the gay subtext is HUGE. This never occured to me as a child. On one level, why would it? Rainbows and other ‘gay clues’ were not in my vocabulary then. However, one teen boy blatantly in love with another?

I guess it just didn’t strike me as odd.

I also knew I read Hey, Dollface and Annie on my Mind – and the second a good many times. A few years ago I went on a kick to buy childhood/adolescent books I’d liked. I was completely shocked when they were lesbian books – no clever little side story, but THE main plot of the books. Particularly the Annie one (one of the best books ever – read it now!!)…

Is it odd I found my way to all sorts of hidden away homosexual books? Is it strange I never thought reading them was cladestine, unnatural, etc?

I told TMD this surely ups my gay rating. I also went on a big theoretical lecture tour (just to TMD, you understand) about why my first MA and PhD were all about dystopian texts – books where the vast majority of society is living life a certain way, and usually quite enjoying it. The heroine/hero, though, they feel different inside, often having to go on a great life-threatening text to create a place they can be themselves – or, in fact, compeltely alter society for the better.

Hmm.

Other great gay books I should read?

Their master plans.

August 26, 2008

My sister, Blondie, is arriving on Thursday. I haven’t seen her in (almost) exactly two years.

I never would have imagined when I was growing up that I would live a life where I didn’t see my family – and, really, in my teenage years I probably wouldn’t have seen that as a bad thing, anyway.

TMD and I always talk about how good it would be if Mom and Bear lived in our neighborhood or right next door or something. Not in a creepy enmeshed-with-your-parents type way, but in a gosh-these-people-are-fun-and-good-friends kind of way. Ringing them, they’re always talking about BBQs on the deck, planting flowers, crazy friendships. I miss them both very much.

I’m curious to see Blondie. The first time she came over here to visit me was in October 2004 – in those days, I went home a lot and people didn’t come here – that seems to have reversed a bit. Blondie was here two weeks – the first week it was me, her, and TMD. Poor TMD.

Blondie and I screamed at each other constantly; we even got into an hysterical fight in the middle of a very busy station which ended with me running off into a tunnel, dodging crowds and trying to lose them. Mature, I know.

Blondie also came over with my mom at one point, and that time most of the fighting action was contained between the two of them. Blondie screamed ‘I hate you!’ at my mother in a cafe and ran out. My mother was crying and freaking out, and I ended up paying the bill – using some money from the tips jar I didn’t realise was a tips jar to get exact change. Blondie apparently spent her time in a pub writing angsty poetry around the corner, while I spent my time trying to convince my mother not to call the police.

My mother is all crippled up (a non-PC but highly accurate term) and she ended up limping along the high road crying and yelling my sister’s name.

The NEXT time, they brought Bear with them – this was the two years ago thing. They came over for our legal wedding. That evening was a laugh riot full of white trash fighting, finger pointing, and angry recriminations at my friends from my mother, via Bear. It also culminated in opening the doors to leave at the end of the evening to see my mother pointing at my sister, hissing, ‘You look like a SLUT!’

Sounds poisonous reading/writing it here, but that’s sort of how my family is – big fights, big love. Nobody can see past their own viewpoints to realise that everyone is as fucked up as they are, and no one knows how to gracefully give or take love.

I’m curious to see my sister. I’m taking her to a big old gay festival on Saturday. This should be good, as a recent Facebook message I have from her says,‘what did you say to mom? she thinks i’m a lesbain because i went on two dates with some douche bag who tried to attack a bear in the woods on our first date / tried to grope me our entire second date & then she thinks i like girls because i don’t want to marry him and meet his entire extended family.’

Ah. Family.

I knew it.

July 20, 2008

You are ALICE.

You are ALICE
You are quirky, witty and outspoken. You have a tendency to speak before you think, but that’s what makes you so exciting! Your sassy nature is just as likely to get you into trouble as it is to get you out of trouble.

I LOVE MY JOB.

July 7, 2008

You know, I think I don’t write much in here anymore as I’m so happy. Perhaps I really need to be miserable to tap into my creative powers?!

Went to Pride on Saturday; for this being the capital city (and a very gay one, too, I must add) of a teeny tiny country (that feels bigger every year I live here), it was slightly….crap. Not the day. The young people I marched with were fantastic. If you happen to be gay and get a certain newspaper, you’ll probably see pictures of them on the front page. But the parade itself – what a shambles of organisational attempts. They should put me in charge next year.

All you need is a motherfucking megaphone and a take charge attitude – once I buy the megaphone I will be ready to roll. I spent much of the parade getting sunburnt and avoiding eye contact with the crowd, as I had a slight fear ex-clients would see me. I needn’t have worried, though, because the day concluded with a surprise meeting with my ex-boss’ boss’ boss….and her partner. Nice.

This isn’t an entry with a point. I’m not sure many are, but this is really just the equivalent of doodling on a notepad while you chat on the phone.

It’s rainy today. My new office is full of wonderful windows for the rain to fall against. We also always leave the lights off because we care about the climate, so all that’s missing from this morning is a duvet and some trashy tv.

It’s hard to be anonymous about countries when it’s the Fourth of July.

July 4, 2008

1. I am marching in a parade tomorrow. Maybe you will see me if you’re there. I’ll be the only one not wearing rainbow clothes or leather.

2. I just got THE best phone plan in the fucking world. For ten [units of money] a month. I also made soulmate friends with the phone guy, who lives the next street up from my work and will probably also be at the parade tomorrow.

3. I need to phone the Big People to find out what’s going on with my application for citizenship. Ironic to think about this when it is a day traditionally reserved for breaking away from this country.

4. Is there any point in being country anonymous? If I don’t use any names or identifying details (well, things that would be non-identifying if you didn’t already know me), does it actually make a difference if people know where I live or where I was born?

5. Operation Fingerpaint had some mindfulness meditation time yesterday, and we may start regular meditation groups. I’m feeling inspired and may start doing body scans during my lunch hour.