There’s an infamous moment in my family history involving my mom, my Auntie Hilda, and a skirt. Auntie Hilda just passed away this year at 104. She was the matriarch of my family and quite a character. To put it nicely, she did not fit into the stereo-type of a sweet old lady. She felt it was her duty to tell you things that other people would not. She thought her honesty was a gift. On the wrong day, it could be a little too much to handle.
On one visit, she’d been particularly critical of my mother for a whole day. My mom was making the best of it and trying to let her comments roll off her back. She sat down on the couch in her skirt, and Auntie Hilda said, “Close your legs! You’re showing everybody what you own.” Mom lost it and stomped up to her room like a 60 year-old teenager.
So here I am. Showing what I own on purpose. (Sorry, Auntie Hilda.) I’ve never been the shy type. I happily whip of my shirt at a topless beach, and I generally wear my heart on my sleeve. But blogging about my reproductive system seemed a little too much for me somehow. I’ve changed my mind. I like reading other people’s TTC blogs, and I want to be part of the conversation. So here I am.
Today was chock-full of gay moms. A and I went to a gathering of the gay parents listserve in our neighborhood. For some reason it turned out to be all moms with assorted adorable babies and toddlers in tow. It was nice to chat with the other gay moms, one of whom was due to give birth in three weeks. I found myself asking every couple where they gave birth and could they please describe the experience at the hospital. Then I did a lot of talking about how many times we’ve tried. I started to hear the lilt of desperation in my voice as I asked. It was a little odd. It sounds better when I’m just typing.
I also had the pleasure to meet the lovely and spirited Lo and Co of Family-O. It was nice to let a little more air out of my vent.
Ok, a friend just stopped by, so I’m going to cut this one short.