My love and I were enjoying the benefits of a loosely planned staycation. We both needed a little va-cay, but with all of the fertility stuff, we decided that instead of missing a cycle or spending money, we would just take some time off of work and do stuff around town. Said staycation was affectionately dubbed "Lawannapalooza" since I like to think of my birthday not just as a day, but a weeklong event. Lawannapalooza did, indeed, include a hang gliding adventure and a trip to visit the fertility statues at Ripleys. We figured we were closer to Heaven than normal so we could throw a few prayers to the wind while hang gliding and if that didn't work, we'd rely on some tribal mumbo-jumbo to knock us up.
We also had the distinct pleasure of having two doctor appointments this week. The first one was the mock transfer, said details covered in the most recent blog. The second one was the dilation of Heidi's cervix to help minimize any obstruction during the actual transfer. It was, for me, uneventful. For Heidi, the one whose vagina, cervix, and uterus are always at the forefront of attention, it was a different story. I will say this, and I'm sure she'll agree, it sounds a little worse than it was. Not that prefacing it with that statement made it enjoyable. Oh no, my friends, it was not fun, just manageable. Since most of our friends following this journey are of the female persuasion, after reading this, you may all bend slightly at the waist and do an ever so slightly audible groan.
The visit started with having a pain block put on her cervix. This involved four shots, straight up the hoo-ha. Of course, the visual effect was considerably worse than the actual shot. Remember anatomy here...how long does the needle need to be to make its way up the va-jay-jay until it hits the cervix? Exactly...mental image complete. It wasn't all needle, mostly just an extender, but for crying out loud people, it was metal with a needle on the end. Even my private parts cringed. So, after the speculum was in place (all my lady friends, imagine that fabulously cold and metal instrument of discomfort), the block was given. Four shots. Into a very vascular area. That meant blood. Not "girl" blood, but blood. I, the observer of said procedure, was not expecting the vascular result of the shots and did a visible "yit-yit" at the giant Q-tip used to swab up the end result of the shot. Yeee---uck. (Shivers) After that, a magic stick was used, containing some magic chemical, to stop the bleeding. This left a gray residue on her cervix. Dr. Welden advised that there would be an "ashy" discharge to follow. Again, I will reiterate...yit-yit. Now, it took about five minutes for the block to kick in, during which the doctor and nurse left the room. So, I did what any self-respecting lesbian wife would do when her wife is spread-eagle on a gynecological table...I headed down south to take a little peeksy. Oh dear God. Someone could have left a warning label on her knee that said "Danger...there is a speculum and a pair of scissors hanging out of this vagina". I was not expecting that. I was so amazed by the sight that I wanted to share this moment with my wife (I know she was experiencing it, but it was the visual effect I wanted to share). So, I did what any selfless, considerate, giving wife would do. I took a picture on her phone and showed it to her. Not something you see every day. She gazed upon said travesty betwixt her legs, to which she replied, "I did a good job shaving." That, my friends, is why my wife is a frigging superwoman. Does she freak out at the sight of scissors dangling from her most personal spot? No. Did she yell at me for taking a picture of a speculum in her woman-parts? No, you mere mortal, wimpy women. She gave herself GD props for a great shave job. I love my wife. Reason #684.
After the picture was successfully deleted and the block kicked in, Dr. Welden began the process of inserting increasingly larger metal thingamajiggies into her cervix to slowly dilate her. This took about an hour. No big deal, you say? Reealllyyy...well, if you don't think it's a big deal, why don't you just do a pop-in at casa Voci and I will be happy to see if you can take a full fifteen minutes of the speculum, scissors, dilating torture materials, ashy vagina maker, etc. I dare you. Seriously. Next time you see my wife, I might suggest you do a little bow of respect to her.
After the dilation, another mock transfer with the tube. Smooth sailing this time...yea! Then, measuring the cyst again. Same size...bummer but we still had time for it to go down. We would wait it out since the alternative would be the same as having the difficult part of the IVF procedure to drain the cyst. After all that her junk has and will have to go through, we decided to wait it out. So, that's what we are doing...waiting.
Now, let me take you back a week or two. Heidi and I were having an impromptu fertility conversation in the kitchen. It resulted in finding out that someone we knew was pregnant again. We were so excited and happy for her and her partner but we were also a little sad for us. Natural response, I guess, but it was a little bit of a last straw for Heidi. She confessed that she had been so sad for so long and that as hard as she tried, she couldn't make herself happy because she wanted so badly for this to work. She didn't want to tell me how unhappy she was because she didn't want me to be sad too. It was a hard conversation because my job as her wife is to make her happy. I was sad because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make this happen; I had no control over the end result. That conversation stuck in my head. There was nothing I could do to change this but the sadness stayed with me.
Back to present week. Every now and again, Heidi makes me take her to a puppy store so she can hold and cuddle random puppies. She has forever wanted a King Charles Cavalier puppy but because of the cost and competing fertility treatments, it was always a "someday we'll get one" conversation. Well, this particular week during our random visit to the puppy store, lo and behold, there in the back of the store, off the market for sale, sat a King Charles Cavalier puppy. He wasn't with the general population of confined or jailed puppies; he was in isolation, so to speak. He was sporting a slight cold and until the vet cleared him, he wasn't allowed to go home with anyone. The lady at the shop must have seen the longing in Heidi's eyes and she let her hold the puppy. He was, to say the least, a handful; adorable, energetic, kissy faced. But more than that, he made her smile. A deep smile...one that went all the way to her heart. We left, smiling for our time spent with the puppy. That night, he kept popping into my head. He made her smile. He lightened her heart. The next day of our staycation, we were trying to figure out what to do. I suggested we take another trip to the puppy store to gauge her reaction. She looked a little incredulous, like why would we do that? So, I told her that I thought we should maybe think about getting him. I told her my reasons. Usually, my frugal wife would have immediately said no. But I think she knew she needed this. She needed something to make her happy, to help soften some of the disappointment of the past two years. So, we did what any heterosexual couple unsuccessfully trying to have a baby does...we adopted. We just adopted an eleven-week-old puppy instead of a child. Meet Ty...our newest addition.
Now, while you are oohhing and aaahhing about how cute he is, know this. There is a method to my madness, oh yes there is. Not only is my goal to make my wife happy, but I am also here to trick the universe. (Insert Dr. Evil laugh here)
What happens to every straight couple who finally decide to give up on having a baby and adopt? They "accidentally" get pregnant. Well, that won't work for lesbians. If she ends up pregnant without a doctor's assistance, we'll be headed for divorce court. BUT...if we "adopt", then go to seemingly unimportant doctor visits, focusing only on our new addition, just staying for the visit because we have to, like a physical or pap smear or something mundane like that, we will be so focused on our new baby boy that we might "accidentally" get pregnant. I'll pause while you revel in my brilliance...I know it's a lot to take in. Take your time...
So, there it is and here we are. We have our new baby boy, who is ridiculously adorable. We also got our period, which means nothing because we're not doing any of that fertility stuff, we've adopted (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Our next step is to work on housetraining our new addition and maybe we'll do a pop in at our doctor's office just to see if that pesky cyst has shrunk. No reason, just to know. And maybe Heidi will take some kind of vitamin shots to give her energy to take care of our new addition. Maybe they'll be a lot like the old IVF shots she took, but these are different; we aren't trying to get pregnant. Duh. So, between our flight to heaven, our fertility statue, and our "accidental" opportunity for pregnancy, this could be looking good. I'm optimistic. I mean, chaos has entered our lives in the form of four very small legs. It only makes sense that the universe pile on some more midnight feedings...
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