Let’s start with the acronyms:
TTC (trying to conceive)
O (ovulation or orgasm? I still don’t know)
IUI (inner uterine insemination) not to be confused with ICI (inner cervix insemination),
G (total number of pregnancies)
P (total number of delivered pregnancies)
I could keep going …
I’m learning a new language. Really, I’m learning a new everything: a new way of thinking about parenthood, a new way of managing expectations and thinking about finances; a new way of getting pregnant (the least sexy part of this whole process!), a new way of relating to men, my friends and myself. New reading. (If you could see the things I’m Googling these days, such as: ici home insemination and orgasm. I know, right?!?) Hopefully, a new life.
Two nights ago I spent almost an hour on the phone with my cousins friend in L.A. who used a frozen sperm donor eight years ago. I’d had a long (but good) day of seeing clients and was walking around the lake with my dog, blathering on about all things sperm. (Still weird.) I had a thousand questions and, lucky for me, she had a thousand answers. She told me about “Mom’s by Choice” the on-line community of single parents, and sibling registries where you can see if your potential child has 20 half-siblings running around. We talked about the lonely bits of raising a child by yourself, along with the endless supply of love you gain, and all the vulnerability you learn to withstand.
I left the conversation grateful but exhausted.
I keep coming back to an email my friend J wrote me earlier in this process: Love, is the thing. Isn’t it? You want a child biologically but you want the love of a child, and a child to love. That’s the essence. That’s the thing to concentrate on. Everything else is dross.
Love is the thing. I have to remember this when I get overwhelmed with exacting my knowledge of ovulation, calendar matching it with Fed Ex-ing frozen sperm, not KILLING the sperm in the defrosting process, or SPILLING it during insemination. This strange, expensive process … it all comes down to love. And really, don’t we all do crazy things in the name of love?
YES YES YES!
When we were going through it we called the fedex call our bootycall. And I swore to Julia that if we tried at home that we’d be doing it with a wet vac close by in case of spillage!
In the words of one J. Mayer, “love is a verb, it ain’t a thing.” But I get what you’re saying. And I wish you peace in your journey.