Posts Tagged ‘donor sperm’

My vagina wants me to lay down again. *pity party*

April 9, 2009

Sitting up on the couch AND leaning back against it – two no-nos in the world of Twin Pregnancy. (Can you hear the horns announcing…Twin Pregnancy?) But you know, I don’t give a good fuck at this moment in time. Avert your eyes if you don’t want to see whining and self-pity.

But…I’m boooooooooooooored. Being at home is all fun and games assuming you are able and willing to move around. A life lived lying on your side? Totally fucked up, my friends. And I’ve got some kickin’ rib tenderness on my left side, which is made about a zillion times more uncomfy when I am lying down. So I thought, be a daredevil. Go on. Sit up, lean back, prop that laptop on your knees and experience typing from a normal position again.

It’s not quite as risque as buying a motorcycle and taking off for unknown territories, but it gave me a brief thrill for about ten minutes. Or five.

Fact is, I am clockwatching. I am waiting and waiting and waiting for TMD to get home. I’m lonely, bored, thirsty, uncomfortable, worried, etc. I am also radiantly happy and keep touching my bump. But honestly, the babies are okay company – but not quite the same as having someone with you who is living outside of your stomach. I need a hug!

I keep wondering how in god’s name I can possibly stay at home for another 18 weeks (if I deliver at 38 weeks, which is the plan) because HOLY FUCK THIS IS BORING. The upside is that all this rest means I am likely to head off bad complications from the SPD, preterm labour, etc. It also means I’m less likely to be forced onto actual never-leave-the-bed-rest. I know my job is to be a good twincubator and cook up some healthy, fat babies – but god.

I think I need something or someone to entertain me. Maybe a couch in the middle of some woods somewhere, with ambient bird sounds and leafy shadows/light dappling my body. Maybe the ability to sit up for more than 20 minutes without causing myself grievous pains and aches – and therefore being able to do some serious writing. Maybe the motivation to kickstart meditating (I’ve just bought Kabat-Zinn’s Full Catastrophe Living so maybe that will help?) and get into some sort of routine.

The thing is, I actually have a lot to do. Find a guy to make us a will. Download the legal documents to give TMD parental responsibility. Research dual citizenship stuff for the babies. Call the clinic and ask when we get the donor’s pen sketch. Ask them if the lady I donated eggs to got pregnant. Make a list of shit I need from work (my wind up sushi misses me, I am sure of it). Perhaps start filling in the paperwork to become a Superstar Therapist. Make a list of things for babies/my hospital bag. Make a list of stuff we need for the house. Call this strange local lesbian family to see if we can make friends, even though calling someone I don’t know makes me nervous.

But, crazy me, I feel like I can’t do any of that until my new orange notebook comes in the mail and I can make all sorts of crazy detailed lists in the book. Just for the satisfaction of crossing them out – but also because I feel better when I get things out of my head and onto paper. Or this blog, I guess.

Whine, whine, whine.

I spend my days flitting between tv channels. I turn my head sideways and read pregnancy forums, update twitter, mindlessly refresh my Facebook homepage, and check my email. Blog. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I am happy to be at home if it is the best thing for the babies and my body, but jesus why does it have to be so endless? Am I really capable of being home and essentially immobile for NINETEEN total weeks? Is my emotional health strong enough?

I need comfort.

If only babies were as simple as my newly aquired letterhead skillz.

December 1, 2008

Perhaps I am actually an adult. What would lead me to make such a rash declaration?

Well, I’m working from home today. I needed to print something out on letterhead I’d taken from the office. And…AND…I guessed which way the paper needed to go to be printed on the letterhead correctly on my first attempt.

I think this is the first time something like this has ever happened.

And in other news, did you read (two posts down) about my good eggy baby news?? The nurse is supposed to call to confirm the time of the trigger shot (the shot that makes me ovulate roughly 36 hours from now). My egg collection is currently scheduled for 10:30 am on Wednesday, so my trigger is supposed to be 10:30 pm tonight.

I am done done done with the superovulatory drugs. I have my last shot of the downregulating drugs tonight at 7 pm, and then the crazy trigger shot. It involves snapping glass bottles in half and mixing powdered medications with various solutions. It’s like some kind of science experiment – except way more important.

Anyway, the nurse hasn’t called yet. I am starting to get antsy. Think I will call around 4 pm if I haven’t heard. You know, those damn donor lab people still haven’t attached my donor profile to my file. Poopheads.

(get it? She’s a big brown poophead…well, poopbody.)

My tummy is all bruised now. ALL bruised.

November 25, 2008

I had a dream about the donor last night.

He was cute, friendly, open, and willing to meet with us face-to-face. We don’t want that in real life, but it was nice in the dream. A willingness for us to get to know him (it’s still a wee bit of a sticking point that the donor they offered didn’t complete a pen sketch. I never would have thought I wanted one, but now that I’m a donor myself I do!).

He brought along a little blond girl – absolutely adorable. We were all in a car, and the little girl was snuggling up to my mom. Fast forward in time, and we had a little dark haired daughter.

And….we totally fucked her up. Yes, sperm donor and me were considering having an affair, and I felt guilty about TMD. I think our daughter witnessed an argument.

NICE dream.

I can psychoanalyse the second part away quite easily, but the first part was reassuring. By the time I left work yesterday, I felt pretty good about the donor. (And during the dream as well, as apparently he’s only ever had daughters. Not that I’m prejudiced against boys, but, well….We’ve got a girl name all picked out and everything. Boy names are harder.)

TMD did not. She was not pleased about his country of origin. I told Aussie about it this morning, and she said, ‘I would REFUSE to have a donor from there. The baby would be born racist!’ Still, we’re all crazy together. I’m not uncomfortable with him. Just stick it in me, that’s my new evolved attitude.

However, TMD had a strong reaction to his country and his religion. She accepts the religion thing is crazy,  but has a big problem with this country. So, we’ll see. I just fired off a business like yet grovelling email (hard to strike that exact tone, but I managed it well) to the clinic saying that we want to see more profiles before we commit to a donor. We have always been led to believe we would get three, so three I asked for.

Seeing as we need this sperm quite soon, I hope the dude replies. I already had a minor worry about him being on leave or something. If I don’t hear by this afternoon, I’ll ring.

TMD had a conversation with the receptionist about how needy/crazy we are. The receptionist assured us that all the women the clinic sees fall into that category, and at least we are friendly. It’s quite an accomplishment to make the semi-bitchy receptionist like us, so that’s good. We’re best friends with the other one.

I tell you, you can never neglect to understand the full importance of receptionists – or people with behind-the-scenes jobs. They are the lifeblood of companies and clinics….and invaluable when it comes to this whole baby making process.

And how’s it going? I slept on the couch last night. Took a notion that that would be the only acceptable place to sleep. When my alarm went off this morning, I rolled over and reached for the floor. YOWZA. Ripping pain in my left ovary.

I can safely say it’s becoming quite uncomfortable to walk, I feel like I have to pee much of the time, and – GOOD. I am pleased to feel this way, to have ovaries that are kickin’ it and working hard. If I gave my ovaries a montly salary, this month I would give them a bonus. As it is, they are essentially unpaid labourers, so I can just pat my tummy and say thanks.

(You like how I said ‘essentially’? I don’t know why I inserted that word. They ARE unpaid labourers. Unless they get satisfaction from doing the job well, month after month. Hmm. Something to ponder.)

Initial reactions.

November 24, 2008

Oh. My. God.

I’ve been emailed a donor profile. And it’s yucky. The guy is from a country TMD happens to hate the accent of, AND he is Roman Catholic. Now, I know the baby won’t come out with that particular annoying accent or with her/his own rosary beads. I know it doesn’t work that way. I realise I may be slightly irrational.

But I don’t want to use a donor I have such a strong reaction against. On the physical side, they’ve tried to give us someone who semi-matches TMD – aside from ‘medium’ skin. What is that? Mixed race, or just a ruddy white guy? Who can tell?

He also studies IT and just finished the equivalent of high school. So on the physical side, I’ve got to assume he’s ugly. I know, terrible of me to say things like that. He does list philosophy as an interest – so that earned him half a point. The other half was lost because, again, he’s probably ugly. Still, he’s got the smarts. Some of the ugly is also possibly erased because he likes sports.

Please don’t judge me for judging this poor guy. He does have ‘proven fertility’, which is nice.

I’ve sent the clinic donor lab an email saying to please forward us other profiles, and that we are willing to look at other physical characteristics if it means we can see a wider selection. I didn’t tell the lab that their current offering grosses me out a little. I mean, the guy didn’t even write a little pen sketch to be given to the baby when they are older – that’s fairly shit. Children deserve to know a little more than ….nothing.

I don’t want to be too negative about him as, well, who knows. We may select him as the donor. Perhaps part of the negativity comes from the fact that all of a sudden, a third party has been injected into our babymaking.

I want it to be just me and TMD. All along, I’ve thought as the sperm as no more than another ingredient to be added to our baby. No big deal. Suddenly I find it feels like quite a big deal. I would just like to have more than one option, so there is a feeling of CHOICE involved.

Hrm. Thoughts? Don’t diss this guy as when reason kicks in I might actually like him.