Doubly so, when there are two of you.
We’re back at it again. The periods are back. We waited. We’re ready.
We tried, last cycle, to hilarious (and gross) results. Honestly, when’s the last time you had your brother’s sperm all over your hand? Ewww. I know.
T.M.I. But, for those of you who like a good gross story:
We were all set to do the procedure and, like a good participant, I had my sterile gloves on. The specimen cup ready. The syringe and catheter connected. On your mark. Get set. Go.
And then the syringe and catheter separate… releasing … (you guessed it). Blechhhhhhh. And my face is contorted in a pained expression of disgust, several shades of disgust. And A is asking…’what? what happened?’
And with fingers spread apart, paralyzed, and hands robot-like – extended in front of me, I sort of sit there, contemplating. Laughing, but well aware that this ‘procedure’ still needs to happen. So, it does.
But the weird irony of this all is not lost on me. And it will all be worth it in the end.
Partly, I know this is childish. It’s biology and clinical and… not at all how most people picture the moment of conception. But, for a career lesbian (15 years in) this contact with the “necessary materials” for our plan is weird enough. Multiply that by whatever you like – with the addition of the mental note that this isn’t just ‘any old’ … stuff.
In a way it’s pretty magical – to want something so much. And to love someone so much that it all becomes pretty funny, mishaps and all.
And now, we are on cycle two. Fingers crossed. Gloves on. And connections TIGHT.