Mamarama

A good friend hosted a “Baby Brunch” this weekend. She invited all of her gay mom friends to her house and fed us challah french toast. It was refreshing to see these particular moms. We were just five-ish families: mine, the host and her best friend, A&B with their two kids, C&D and their two kids, and E&F who are thinking of starting a family sometime next year. We only see these folks about twice a year. We had to get over the initial shock of how big the kids (and the famlies) have grown. While the toddlers were stuffing their pockets with polished rocks from the hosts flower pots, we got into the brass tacks: baby-making chat. Ahhh, my element. I started quizzing them about how they got pregnant. They all were smart enough to start out in fertility clinics. I started to hear that desperate tone in my voice again. I have to remind myself that it really has not been bad for me. Yes, I kicked myself as I listened to them talk about how they bought up most of their donor’s vials. (We only bought 6.) But I have only tried 6 times. Four of the times don’t even count, since the timing was off. So, yes, it has almost been a year since I had wanted to start trying. Yes, I’ve had six months of being sure I was pregnant and not being pregnant. I looked around the room. A&B had two babies very close together because B had had trouble getting pregnant the first time, so they’d switched to A trying. They didn’t expect B to get pregnant the first time after A gave birth and she did. C&D’s new baby is just 2 months old (and freakin’ adorable… what kind of two-month-old smiles every three seconds?) They thought it would take a really long time for the adorable bambini’s mom to get pregnant due to internal stuff, and she got pregnant on the first try. I can do this. The next time I see these people I’ll have a babe at my breast or a turnover in the oven. I made all the people who had been pregnant hug me to rub off their mojo. It’s ok, they thought I was crazy, too.

On another note, I successfully did part one of my zillion-part fertility regiment today. I have a bruise in my elbow pit to prove it.

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