OK, so this hiatus has been exceptionally long. My apologies friends. When PPD hit I basically struggled to hit the bare minimum of promised Monday posts. And the longer I let this series slide, well, the longer it slid. But our story, the one where we meet Andy and he knocks me up, is a good one so I'd like to finish it.
Need to catch up?
OK, here's what happened last time. Tracy and I decided to try and find a known donor and in the process I lost my damn mind obsessively doing everything I possibly could that might make my eggs more attractive to the millions of sperm I hoped they would soon be meeting. We put an ad up online and found some of the wackiest men who are sitting at their computers hoping to give their sperm away to lesbians (because giving sperm to lesbians apparently sounds super hot until they tell you that the delivery system is a needle-less syringe). Then we found an ad on co-parentmatch.com from a gay New York City man looking to father a child, fell in potential-baby-daddy-love, and embarrassed ourselves by clicking on his profile a bazillion times before paying for a membership and realizing that he got a notification every time we did. We nervously exchanged emails and Facebook messages and let ourselves get super excited at the prospect of making a baby with such a sweet and funny man. And because the universe apparently loves us, he already had plans to be an hour away from our house which meant a “first date” was imminent. In true lesbian fashion, Tracy and I did the baby-making equivalent of u-hauling and wondered if asking for sperm on the first date would be too forward. And when I last left you we had finally met the exceedingly charming Andy and I had proved that I am awkward and weird on a first date. But somehow he saw through all that and decided that we would make suitable procreation partners. And then Andy asked us when we thought we might be ready to start trying to conceive and we told him that I was actually ovulating that coming weekend. And now you're all caught up!
So we stood there on the path at Mount Royal wondering if Andy would actually be ready. He laughed, I think wondering if we were for real, and then let us down gently. When we started to get serious in our discussions he had gotten himself STD tested and was currently in the window period where you have to wait to get the second test before getting the all clear.
Sweet, funny, smart, kind, and responsible? How on earth did we find this guy on the internet?
It wasn't long before Andy's tests came back negative and he was on a plane to visit us for the first insemination attempt.
Nervous doesn't even begin to describe how I was feeling while pacing the Ottawa Airport waiting for Andy's arrival. I was excited too. Certainly. But more nervous than anything else. We were about to embark on a second date that would last an entire weekend. And it would involve sperm in an artichoke jar. Cue the awkward silences.
But Andy arrived and had us laughing instantly. He told us about a dream he had the night before where he was in our bathroom overwhelmed by all the soaps and feminine bathroom products available. Nervously he tried to pump some hand soap but ended up spilling it all over the floor. Sometimes you don't need a dream dictionary to figure out the symbolism of your dreams.
We had a concrete plan for how we were going to do things. One insemination per day for the four days he was in town. The ritual began with a cup of coffee to get his swimmers moving quickly. Then Tracy and I left our home so that Andy could, well, you know. When he was done he would text us "OK" and we would return. The jar of sperm would be passed off, with as much care as an olympic torch, from his warm armpit to my wife's warm sports bra. Then Andy would give us time to, well, you know.
After it was over I cooked us all dinner. He graciously ate my cornbreaded tofu and pasta and he and Tracy passed the silent moments by taking sips of Canadian beer. On the first night we had plans to introduce Andy to a few of our friends at a Karaokee bar. At that point in the conception timeline I could have indulged in a few alcoholic beverages without hurting our unborn (un-conceived) child but it would have felt strange so I went to the bar sober. Which is never the beginning of a great story.
The night went along fine, if slightly awkward. Some of our friends had been forward enough to ask exactly how Andy's sperm had gotten inside of me. They were the less awkward ones. Others hadn't wanted to ask. They were the more awkward ones.
For the most part I felt fine. Until the moment when everyone simultaneously left to go to the bathroom, or up to the bar, or to request a song, and it was just me and Andy left at the table. You have never experienced awkward until you are left alone at a table with a man you met online but hardly know. A man whose sperm is currently inside of you. Sperm that he did not put there.
But more about that next time.
