Artificially Sweetened

Otherwise known as embryos one & two.

Smoothly transferred into Pili’s womb this afternoon.

In the waiting room afterwards, I fussed with the coffee machine as a pretext whilst shamelessly ogling eyeing another lesbian couple sitting side by side in the oh-so-tasteful mission furniture, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.

Should I break the sacred waiting room code of silence? This is Small City, and there aren’t that many of us around. On the other hand… look at how lovey-dovey they are. They’re either brand new here or they’re here for a let’s hear the baby’s heartbeat ultrasound. In which case I may go out of my head with jealousy will be very very happy for them.

I finally decided that I had to break the code of silence, if only so that they wouldn’t interpret my one-cup-coffee-machine-fiddling-blatent-staring as a straight woman giving them the hairy eyeball. While it can take a long time to choose between french roast and earl grey, five minutes is probably pushing it, no?

The unpardonable thing? In a fertility clinic, the only decaf option was chamomile. Blech.

So, how long have you guys been coming here?

Oh, this is our first visit. We’re just here for a consultation with Dr. SBS. (oh crap. you do not want to talk to me) How about you?

Well, um, we’ve been here for a while. I’m just waiting for my partner. We actually wound up doing IVF, my eggs, her uterus…

Oh wow! How great. We’re still trying to decide who goes first!

Um, yeah. It’s great if it works. (Pili emerges) Well, good luck to you. See you again, maybe.

I am trying to welcome these embryos with sweetness and light, to convince them that they would like to stay put for a while. I held my hand over Pili’s stomach for a minute and tried to think only cheerful happy smiling family thoughts.

I have absolutely no expectation that this will work, and yet I can’t help hoping that I will be surprised.

I don’t normally much care for the modern love column in the Sunday Styles section of the Times. But today, instead of featuring yet another story of someone’s love gone awry, Daniel Jones writes about what he’s learned from editing these stories:

“I’ve read few accounts more fraught with hope and anxiety than those about people who want children but face obstacles: single with a ticking biological clock, infertile, genetically at-risk, gay… They worry about the implications and morality of their choices, about whether they’re being selfish or playing God. But when a couple get their baby (if they do), the angst and doubt instantly melt away, and all they can think about is how much they love this no-longer-abstract child.”

We went to a meeting of our local glbt families group today. I always feel hesitant and like a bit of a failure going to these things. After all, we still don’t have kids. And the prospective parent status seems like it must be wearing thin after two-plus years.

My anxieties were blown away the minute we walked into the room. Everyone there was so incredibly welcoming and supportive. The noise level got a little intense at times with 15+ kids from 11 months to 11 years running loose, building everestian mountains of frosting on top of heart shaped sugar cookies. (Mmm… frosting. And chocolate covered strawberries. And a big chocolatey smooch to my friends at Lilly for inventing humalog. I love not having to wait an 1.5 hours for my quick-acting insulin to kick in). So many kids – both bio and adopted, from near and far. It was wonderful to see all the different ways that people have chosen to build their familes and all the love and thought that went into those families.

It may (sigh) will take a while yet for our child to move from the abstract to the real. But I want you to know, kiddo, whomever you may be and however you will come into our lives. You will be loved. A lot. With frosting on top.