Monthly Archives: November 2007

Was it the Turkey Baster?

I’m not surprised when I come across a search engine term like tingly feeling in my vagina, as a way someone got to my blog.

I was pretty surprised to find this term, however, and I wonder what the person who did the search thought of my lesbo baby-makin’ blog when they were really looking for a Christmas present for their Aunt Mildred:

cheapest set it and forget it rotisserie

What the?

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Pants, Schmants

I spent all of Thanksgiving weekend with my jeans unbuttoned.  No, it wasn’t the turkey.  I don’t even think it was my ever-blossoming perfecto embryo.  I think it is all the extra food I’ve been eating for the past three weeks. (And maaaaaybe just a little bit of my uterus.)

I don’t like walking around pulling up and unbuttoning and re-buttoning my jeans.  Especially when most people don’t know I’m pregnant and probably think I’m just full of cranberry sauce.  So upon returning home, I made a bee-line for my pregnant friend’s apartment and demanded hand-me-down maternity pants.  She obliged with a huge pile of jeans and kahkis.

Ok.  Unlike women, these maternity pants come in three sizes, S, M and L.  I am none of the above.  I am tall, chicken-legged, with an ever-increasing waist line and buttocks region. (I just noticed my new butt in the mirror in my pre-natal yoga class on Sunday. What the?)  The stretchy parts made room for my belly, but most of the size-medium pants were way too short.  I looked like a twelve-year-old boy after a growth spurt.  (A pregnant twelve-year-old boy.)  Not only were they too short, but the crotch hung down half-way to my knees.  I mean, really, people.  You can’t bother to make your over-priced pants that I’m getting for free fit a woman?

Luckily, two pairs of pants were just a little short, acceptable with boots,  I suppose.  Two pairs of jeans actually fit.  One of them actually had a size!  My size!

And let me tell you… I did have to wear an extremely long shirt, which I proceeded to pull down over the huge elastic tummy band all day… but those pants were heaven.  I was so comfortable. Aaaah.  Perhaps I may actually spend some of my own money on some.  In a few weeks.  I love you stretchy belly band.  I love you.

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Filed under First Trimester

The New TWW

TTC sucked.  I would not go back for all the world.  (Unless I had to, knock wood.)

I was not prepared, however, for a whole new rhythm of waiting.  I mean, I’ve done my share of waiting… the two weeks to find out I wasn’t pregnant and the following two weeks waiting to try again — eleven times.

Now the T in TWW stands for twelve.  As in, the end of my first trimester.  I have been extremely lucky, in that I have not had much morning sickness at all.  My only real bout of nausea came the day after a brazen encounter with a Halloween-sized box of “Grape Heads” candies (cousin to the more popular Lemon Heads.)  Yeah.  I was sick all day and completely useless to the world.  I won’t do that again.  Now I’m not sick and completely useless to the world.  I’m slowly but surely counting down the days until 12 weeks are up.

Last night we had a seven week ultrasound and good-bye fest with Dr. Mug.  Tears were shed.  Joyful ones, thank God.   When he turned on the ultrasound machine where I couldn’t see it, he first said, “Let me just take some measurements, then I’ll let you see. Pregnant pause. The size is… tap tap tap… perfect.”  Perfect! “The heartbeat… perfect.  Very strong.” A keeps teasing me that Dr. Mug just knows my buzz words because I’ve been talking about my perfect embryo ever since.  I threatened to whip out the ultrasound photo on the subway and yell, “Behold my perfect embryo!”

As you may know, I don’t have a scanner.  You may re-create my perfect embryo’s ultrasound photo quite easily.  Take a sheet of black construction paper.  Draw a white circle in the center.  Pour about a tablespoon of salt into the circle.  Shake it around a bit.  That’s what she looks like!  Gorgeous, eh?

Anyway, one of the best things about this doctor visit was the way Dr. Mug was talking.  He said, “You just have to wait to ten weeks and you’re in the clear.”  Ten weeks?  WTF?  “I thought it was twelve!”  “Everything looks so good, if all continues to go well for the next three weeks, I think you’ll be in the clear.”  Wahoooooo!!  He even said he’d be really surprised if anything went wrong at this point.   I know, I hope he’s not getting too cocky.  But honestly, when one has tried for so long to get pregnant, the idea of miscarriage can be a little consuming and overwhelming.  Though I know it can still happen, I feel far more relaxed than I did yesterday.  I may even go as far as saying I feel confident.  🙂

The new TWW for me is ten weeks.  Which, minus the seven I have already waited is three.  A Three Week Wait?  That I can handle.

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Pregnancy Nose

The world smells different to me now.

The lobby of my building = sewage

A cafeteria full of children = one collective huff of bad breath

Walking down the stairs behind fifth graders = the Giants’ locker room after a game (but the showers are broken)

My empty elevator = Old Spice

My kitchen =  smells like looking into the trash can with a nasal magnifying glass (not to mere mortals, mind you.)

Ah, the joy.  All for a good cause, of course.

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A Baby and A Book

Was it Gertrude Stein or Adrienne Rich who said, “A book is not a baby is not a book?”

Well this non-bio lesbian mom book is certainly not going to be a baby.  And my embryo will hopefully not develop into a book in my womb.  Yet they are related. At some point in my youth, probably when I was in college, I made a very short list of things I wanted to do before I die.  I mean, life goals, not stuff like “ride in a hot air balloon over the mesas of New Mexico,” though that would be on my other such list.

Here’s my life goals list:

1. Have a baby

2. Publish a book

I’m feeling pretty jazzed that so many of you want to be interviewed and want to buy the book.  It has really jump started me into action.

Now I just need to purchase a device that will record phone interviews and some index cards and we’re off!

Thanks, grrrrrls.

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6 Weeks

Yo, people!

Tomorrow I will be 6 weeks pregnant!

I was astonished to find that even before I had had any sperm in me, I was pregnant for two weeks.  If you just got your period, you too are considered pregnant by silly doctors and people who know nothing about their ovulation all around the world.  Crazy, right?  So when you find out you’re pregnant, after your two-week wait, you are considered four weeks pregnant.

I don’t mind the folly, actually, because those first two weeks went awfully fast.  And I had some wine, even.    I am especially excited about the fact that I will officially be half-way to my twelve week mark.  That’s when  a normal person who doesn’t have to tell the universe about every ache and pain on her blog would be telling her friends and family.  Me?  Half of them know already because of the blog.  It just makes me a little nervous. After 12 weeks, the pregnancy has a much much better chance of going to term.

I am happy that I have made it thus far without any sickness.  I have the weird food aversions (coffee?  candy???) and I am pretty much thirsty 24 hours a day, but that is it.  I hope I’m not bringing on the nausea just by posting this.  But I am pretty pleased about it.

My due date according to the Dr. Mug is July 13.  My due date according to me is July 9. (My cycle is shorter than that wheel thingee says.)  But my real due date according to me, since Cakie came three weeks early and my friend A’s baby came two weeks late is “sometime this summer.”

Book note:  I spoke with my friend who is a literary agent.  He seems to think I’ll have a hard time publishing the non-bio mom guidebook.  I don’t care.  I just need to write it.  So if I do interview you, don’t get too disillusioned! 🙂

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bellydancing on the floor

I am out of shape.

Considering I will soon be carrying an extra 20-something pounds around, I decided to finally go to that yoga class.  As you can see from this previous post, it is something I have meant to do for quite some time.

Of course I had to go a pre-natal class.  On the way there, I got a little excited… pre-natal!  Prenatal!  I’m doing something pre-natal.  Once I got there, I felt a little like a non-pregnant lady crashing a pregnant-lady party.  As the instructor said when I told her I was, “just a little pregnant,”  there is no such thing.

It was a good thing for me, I think.  I got to get all in touch with my pelvic floor and to practice squatting.  There was a lot of gyration.  I also got to say, “I’m pregnant,” out loud not because I’m telling someone I know or because I’m trying to convince myself that it is true, but because everyone had to tell the class how pregnant we were.  (I was the only person under 21 weeks.  Lots of bellies!)

It is weird being the second bio-mom.  On one hand I feel like I’ve been through this whole pregnancy thing before.  I definitely have been through the newborn thing before.  But I am very used to thinking of A as the pregnant one.  My brain is stuck on feeling like a non-pregnant expectant parent.

Speaking of non-bio moms, I am finally going to write that book.  Yes, ladies.  The one you’ve been looking for in the bookstores and libraries… the handbook for the non-bio lesbian mom.  So I need your help.  If you, or someone you know would be willing to be interviewed for the book (you can remain anonymous if you choose) please let me know via comments, and I’ll contact you.  I want any kind of non-bio lesbian moms including those who partner with someone who already has kids, those who are reluctant at first, those who identify as more of a “baba” or lesbian papa kind of parent.  I want the gamut.  So let me know.  It needs to be written, no?  Yes.  (I already know about “The Other Mother” by Arlyn H.  This would be more guide-booky and less anecdotal.  But still anecdotal a bit because anecdotes are fun to read.)  Ok.  Thanks, chicas.

I need to do something with all my writing energy now that I’m only blogging every three or four days, rather than one-to-two times a day!

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