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Detour

It’s been quite a while since either of us have posted anything new.

We were both pretty upset. and things haven’t really changed, but we decided to make a change. After visiting our friend that has recently taken in a foster child, we decided that foster was the right path for us as well.

We attended the foster orientation class about a year and a half ago, and at that point we thought that it wasn’t really the best option for us. There is too much risk involved, having a baby placed in our home just to have him or her taken away and put back into a shitty situation with the birthparents… after they had supposedly gotten their lives back together.

After the recent crappy turn of events, we decided that maybe fostering a child was the best hope for us. We have heard both good and bad stories. The child is placed, and removed a week later. The child is placed, lives with a family for two years, and is sent home. And the rare good story: a child is placed in the home and the foster family is able to adopt them later on.

I don’t know if I can handle having a innocent baby (saved from his/her birth family) placed into my home, only to have them ripped out and sent away, but fostering is the quickest (and cheapest!) path to adoption.

We went to the orientation again this last Tuesday. We then called the agency that our friend went through and then got set up to start the foster classes Saturday. The program supervisor asked us what type of child we want placed in our home.

And yes, we are being picky(ish)  about what type of child we take in. We can choose if we want special needs or not, what gender, age, and race. We don’t care about gender and race, but we have specified that we want a newborn to 3 year old, without serious special needs. We understand that many if not most of the children we will come in contact with will be born feeling the effects of drugs and/or alcohol, which will cause some problems, and while some people would consider that to be special needs, we can handle some  things, just not serious special needs like spina bifida or feeding tubes. Phew, what a run-on sentence.

We went to our first class this Saturday, and boy was it boring. I was hoping that we’ll be able to enjoy the classes and learn a thing or two, but no. It was b-o-r-i-n-g. And oh yeah, one of the trainers is a weirdo. She (a white lady) said that her foster son is her “chocolate kiss.” Totally bizarre.

So. This is where we’re at now. We filled out our paperwork. We got fingerprinted. We have 9 weeks to go for this program, and an additional 2 weeks after that because we want a 0-2 year old in our house. Let’s see what happens next.

Delete or not to Delete

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Wrote this last week on August 25th at 8pm. Couldn’t post, I was too upset or embarrassed or humiliated or all of it. It’s a short one so:

This last week was very hard for us. We found ourselves moping quietly to ourselves and arguing about the usual marital home stuff but with way more emotion that either of us meant. We’re doomed. With me not working and QH having just started a great paying job, we’re not equipped to just go out and buy $500-700 .5 or 1 cc vials of sperm. Basically, we’re screwed.

I guess if I wasn’t 41 years old, there’d be no hurry or consequential despair. But because I’m not at my ideal weight or at my most fertile age, the explosive may not get diffused in time. Queer Hubby, wanting to transition as soon as the baby thing is resolved, under no circumstances, wants to be pregnant. No way.

And in case you’re wondering if our former donor had ever contacted us in the last week, nope. I’ve had to hide him and his bf in my feed because I’m having a hard time keeping my stomach from flipping. He’s not going to write until he’s ready, if at all. Right now, I’m still extremely pained that he quit the way he did. It’s taking a lot of strength not to delete both of them. I wonder why either of them are acting like it’s not a big deal and going on with their lives.

Ovulating and Nowhere To Go

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Still haven’t heard from the former donor so not a lot to process but our own feelings. Sucks but there it is. I posted today that denial may not be a mourning phase but it is. I’m not going to dwell on what isn’t possible, it’d be wasting precious time. Instead we’re making B and C plans.

As upset as I am today, my mind keeps reasoning with me that we may have dodged a bullet. Like a cat-suit hero, we moved just in time to save ourselves. How do we know that the former donor or his partner weren’t going to cause future problems, like not signing over custody to us. Maybe they might start thinking this might be a way for them to have a child but not full time. Or maybe it’s better that he doesn’t show up for us instead of not showing up for the kid when it might be crucial. What if things just got plain complicated for whatever reason.

Integrity keeps popping up in my head. I know a few people who have a conscience but I know so many cowards that just won’t be responsible for their actions or words. I’ve hated learning that about people.

Before QH, I was exclusively attracted to the unavailble romantically and platonically. I’m not even sure I really ever in love with any of them or really liked them all that much as friends. It’s not like I couldn’t see who they were, it was all there loud and clear. But when your father leaves when you’re toddler and your mother’s mind leaves HER and YOU when you start gaining consciousness. It can make you cling to escapees.

I usually can’t tell I’m doing it until an incident occurs like when someone you consider a close friend doesn’t show up for your birthday dinner, like every other invite you offer, and with a really lame excuse like the fix-it guy’s gonna be in neighborhood that night. Or your borderline personality mom calls you to say she knows you’re upset with her but she had to wish you a happy birthday because she loves you. Though, last time you talked to her, she was praying for illness to befall your spouse’s family. All because you didn’t get her the loan she requested until Saturday morning instead of Friday night. It’s making me giggle now but it truly fucks me up when she’s ferocious but plays benign. I fell for it every time until recently, it’s becoming less and less.

We forget we’re not the only ones toting baggage or cargo ships. I’m sure the former donor does too. I don’t think he knows that if he just told us how he had come to his conclusions, we’d have a less visceral reaction. It wouldn’t make it so personal, letting us marinate in our own juices. Letting us think there’s something wrong with us or there was something we weren’t doing. Is that cargo talking? Probably.

To heal, we’ve come up with a few important solutions. One, we’re moving to the city we really want to live in, two, we’re going to start looking at donor profiles at the Freeze, and three, we’re going start smiling to make us feel like smiling again. And four, we’re having dinner with our reliable go-to friends tonight, we’ll enjoy spending time at QH’s family’s celebration tomorrow night, and committing to a new craft projects.

Just Another Break up

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I’m really good at laying around watching British serials, propped up on pillows. It’s easier to watch dramas where they aren’t afraid to kill a main character than it is to be wallowing in disappointment.Yesterday, we received an fb email from our donor saying that he doesn’t want to do it anymore. He wasn’t very specific but in general, he didn’t realize what kind of pressure it was going to be. It’s all fun and laughs when you’re making masturbation jokes but then you put that jerk off on a schedule and it’s no fun at all. Sure, how hard can it be? Have you ever cum on cue? I have, it’s not fun. A friend had suggested that the cervix would relax if you have an orgasm, then inseminate, then have another orgasm. It’s so not sexy. For one thing, having an O while your spouse is in the room during a romantic moment, sure, it can be nice. But have one while your spouse is standing there with a cup of semen is another story. I’ve asked her to go into the other room while achieve and I holler at her when I’m ready to insert it. She inserts the instead cup (never a sexy experience), pushing it in too far, and then puts her fingers underneath the cup, pushing whatever swimmers toward the goal line. It’s the kind of intimate experience that leaves you looking at the ceiling wondering how bizarre life can get without really trying.I did my crying yesterday over the loss and kind of refuse to continue the mourning or self pitying that comes after you get dumped. I’m putting my fears at bay or maybe I’m in denial. Whatever, I can’t think about it too much because I can’t get anything done with dry contacts afterward. You know whenever you break up with someone, it’s like the end of the world. People who genuinely love you tell you that it’s happened for a reason, that there are plenty of bears in the sea, and/or maybe we should lower our standards. I can’t help but feel like that was my last opportunity for happiness. No one’s ever going to love me that way again, I’m going to die alone, watching all the other beautiful Lezzie’s with their big fat bellies smiling at me from facebook. How many sonogram photos do I have to look at before I burst or, god forbid, hide them in my feed?? I don’t want to be that person, really, because I’m happy for everyone who’s lucky enough to have their biology do what they want. It just makes my blaring failure that much more hard to ignore.

But what about me? Us? Why can’t we have a baby or babies? Why is it so hard to find a donor? Why didn’t I conceive the first time like all the other Lesbians with Better Uteruses? My cycle is consistent. I show all the signs of fertility. I’ve been wanded to see if I had any obstructions and I did not. Nothing abnormal, I have a perfectly healthy private area. And yet, after 3 inseminations with this donor, nada. Although, a month ago, I had breast swelling and cramps but I stopped doing the progesterone cream thinking I was crazy to do it in the first place. My period came soon after.

I have a short luteal phase so it’s what we read I should do to help to extend it. We also ordered clomid over the internets to help speed up the process. I’ve only used it once before and with frozen sperm. Although it didn’t take, the doc said I was responding well to it and was going to increase the dosage. But, instead, we decided to “take a break” from ttc because it was too much pressure. Not long after, we broke up after 10 years.

I’m in every phase of mourning right now; shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and resignation. I’m holding the dam with my bad back to keep from drowning because in all those phases, I’d think too much and I’ll just cry and cry. I’d rather write about how I feel instead of waste another day with sleepy, dry eyes, curled up on the bed with the dogs, wondering what to do next.

At the end of our hour long gay emergency call whilst he was fam vacaying on the shore, wind static and all, I told my bff that I wished I was a bold, straight woman. We laughed and said yeah. He’s so fucking optimistic and so far away.

I do wonder if our donor like the donor before him started to feel pressure from his boyfriend. What part of this is that? Maybe we’ll find out more in a few days when he’s ready to write me back. It’s been a day since he wrote us and I wrote him back directly. He won’t answer his phone either. Something’s up but I accept his decision, I’d just really like to know more about what’s going on for him.

Another HUGE Let-Down

I just got a Facebook message from our donor saying that he is backing out. We are both very, very upset. I think QW is going to try to chat with him today to find out what the hell is going on. She thinks that his boyfriend is pushing back, although he said that it is because of “personal reasons.”

Just as we were getting ready to do another insemination.

It seems like each time we get closer to growing our family, the further away we get.

Devastated. Totally devastated.

 

I guess Facebook is ruining our lives.

Countdown!

It’s Tuesday. We are inseminating again starting Sunday.

This time, QW is going to be super militant about using the progesterone cream. Like always, I’m feeling positive, but I have to stay that way.

We have been talking a lot lately about how we are going to break it to my parents when we finally do get pregnant. We are both pretty sure that my step-mom will freak out, my step-sister will be pregnant within a month of our announcement, and my dad is going to freak out about money. I can tell you that we are MUCH better off financially than my dad was when I was born, but that won’t matter…

QW’s family is probably going to freak out too.

But, whatever. This is our family, our lives, and we are going to do what we want to be happy.

More updates to come.

Gathered from the Webz

Here is a really great read about a single Lesbian’s journey toward motherhood.

Not a lot of commentary from me today, other than the fact that we are dealing with a person we thought was a friend, but instead, he just turned out to be a huge transphobe.

It will be nice to have a weekend to ourselves with no obligations.

 

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