Our 10 week sonogram revealed that our little one is no longer simply a blob of cells, and now has definied and visible arms, legs, belly and head. We heard it's speedy little heartbeat for the first time, and saw it moving - dare I say waving at us? It was so sweet. The ultrasound technician kept calling it "such a cutie."
Thursday, June 28, 2012
10 Weeks
We had a first pre-natal appointment with our new OB today. And it was great. When I shared with the doctor that we had worked with a clinic before, she asked, "IUI or IVF?" When we told her that we were a queer couple, she said, "so you used donor sperm?" No drama, no insecurity, no judgement, just a professional, knowledgable approach. I was so relieved.
Our 10 week sonogram revealed that our little one is no longer simply a blob of cells, and now has definied and visible arms, legs, belly and head. We heard it's speedy little heartbeat for the first time, and saw it moving - dare I say waving at us? It was so sweet. The ultrasound technician kept calling it "such a cutie."
Our 10 week sonogram revealed that our little one is no longer simply a blob of cells, and now has definied and visible arms, legs, belly and head. We heard it's speedy little heartbeat for the first time, and saw it moving - dare I say waving at us? It was so sweet. The ultrasound technician kept calling it "such a cutie."
Monday, June 25, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Pride Sunday
S and I were with my family this weekend for a wedding – we planned on breaking the news to them on Saturday at some point between the morning wedding and the nighttime reception. Somehow, the day came and went, and we didn’t find the space to have a private conversation. But neither S nor I wanted to leave without sharing the news, so in the few minutes before we left the house for my parents to drop us off at the train station, we decided to just do it. Just like ripping off a band-aid.
They were sitting at the kitchen table watching the morning news when I announced, “before we leave, we have something we want to give you.” I turned off the TV. Then I handed them a card that S and I had prepared. It said “Congratulations!” on the outside. Inside, it had a photo of our positive pregnancy test, followed by the words: “You’re going to be grandparents! Baby X due on January 24, 2013.”
Mom and Pop looked at the card.
“Seriously?!” Pop said with confusion. “When is it due?”
“It’s on the card!” I said. “January 24th.”
They kept looking at the card, and then back at us. The news seemed to take them more by surprise than either S or I were expecting. I guess we had never really had a conversation with them – ever – about the fact that we wanted a family and would be trying soon after our wedding. While family planning has consumed me for two years, this was really the first they were hearing about it.
S walked over to Pop. “Give me a hug!” he said. Pop gave him some kind of awkward pat on the back, still in a daze. Mom got up and gave me a hug with tears in her eyes. “Congratulations,” she said.
As the news sunk in over the next few minutes, Pop began to ask questions. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? Are you having any morning sickness? Have you thought about names? Are you taking sufficient iron?” We piled into the car to rush to the train station. “Are you going to stay in your apartment? Do you know if you have lead paint? When can I put the news on Facebook?” Mom was quiet during the whole drive.
We arrived at the train station. Pop gave me a big hug. Mom did too. She said, “if you get any cravings, let me know and I can make some home-cooked food for you.”
It was basically the only thing she said about the news. And it the most moving, validating experience for me to hear it. The look in her eyes told me that she was thinking deeply about her own experience with pregnancy. She wanted to share it with me. I felt joy and relief.
When S and I got home, we rushed out to celebrate Pride 2012. We happened to be standing next to a queer couple with an adorable 8-month old baby at the Pride parade. “Next year,” said S, “that could be us. Celebrating with our little queer family.” We grinned at each other, imagining our future.
It was such a full, beautiful, emotional day. While I know my parents will likely not ever march in a Pride parade with PFLAG like other parents, or publicly embrace our status as a queer couple, they have done SO MUCH work to be able to be a part my life, a life that they never even imagined possible when they were raising me. Even if they can't say it directly, I know they are genuinely happy for us and for themselves; they will love and support their grandchild in brave and powerful ways. To hold that knowledge in my heart while cheering on equally brave, out queer folks and families was an incredible feeling. S and I are blessed beyond words. And so, too, will be our beautiful baby.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Sharing the News
This weekend, S and I plan to tell my parents that we are expecting. I’m nervous and excited. While I know my parents are eager to be grandparents, I’m not sure how they will take the news. Will they be happy? Will they have questions about how we got pregnant? Once they know we used donor sperm, will they accept our child as “legitimate?” Will they honor S as the father of the child? Will they be warm and loving, or cold and distant?
This is just the beginning of our journey to create a queer family – I have so many other questions and fears about how our child will navigate a world with parents who are out except around this set of grandparents, who are still struggling with their own queer/transphobia. At the moment, I’m trying to just hope that they will respond in a somewhat positive manner. To receive anything less might be too devastating for me to handle.
This is just the beginning of our journey to create a queer family – I have so many other questions and fears about how our child will navigate a world with parents who are out except around this set of grandparents, who are still struggling with their own queer/transphobia. At the moment, I’m trying to just hope that they will respond in a somewhat positive manner. To receive anything less might be too devastating for me to handle.
Monday, June 18, 2012
8 Weeks, 4 Days
Last visit with our fertility clinic. It was somewhat bittersweet - I've gotten very comfortable there, and I'm anxious about starting over with a new set of providers. But it was great to see the ultrasound and the little blinking heartbeat again.
The doctor today said everything was looking good. He told me to transfer my medical records to the new provider, give our primary doctor at this clinic a call at 20 weeks, and to send a photo of the baby and let them know how the delivery went. S and I looked at each other with wide eyes. His words made it seem like the whole experience is going to go by really fast. Only 220 days to go.
The doctor today said everything was looking good. He told me to transfer my medical records to the new provider, give our primary doctor at this clinic a call at 20 weeks, and to send a photo of the baby and let them know how the delivery went. S and I looked at each other with wide eyes. His words made it seem like the whole experience is going to go by really fast. Only 220 days to go.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
OB Meet n' Greet
I've been spending a lot of time perusing various websites trying to decide on an OB and where it is we want to give birth. There has been one practice - two doctors running a small, personalized pre-natal shop - that has been on my radar since before we were even pregnant. They were recommended by a local LGBT website, and every time I review their services and look at their baby blog, I get a good feeling about them.
So this evening, S and I traveled far uptown in the pouring rain to attend a no-charge "meet n' greet" with the two doctors. I arrived before S, so I sat down in the cozy, well-appointed waiting room and tried to get a feel for the place. After a few minutes, Doctor One joined me in the waiting room. She started with, "so what brings you to our practice?"
"Well, I'm pregnant," I began. "And I came across your website on a local LGBT website." She looked pleased.
"Yes," she said, "we work with all kinds of people here." We talked a little bit about my work and how old I am, and then she asked me about my partner. "So tell me about your partner," she said. "What does she do?"
"Um, well... uh... my partner is a transgender man,"I stumbled. "He should actually be here shortly." I studied her face. I told her about his work.
"So, tell me about that. He was a woman and is now a man?"
"Yes, female to male," I affirmed.
"And how long has he been living as a man?"
"Over ten years."
"And did you meet before or after that time?"
"After," I said, feeling put-off by her line of inquiry. There was something about the look in her eyes, the high-pitched tone of her voice, the fact that we had already spent more time talking about S being trans than about me being pregnant that just wasn't sitting right with me.
"Well, here at our practice, we are like a big tent," she said. "We work with transgender people, conservative Christians, people in their 50's... all kinds of people come here."
At that moment, S came running in the door, apologizing for being late. He gave me a kiss, sat down, and squeezed my hand. The doctor continued. "I was just telling your partner here that we are like a big tent here," she told S. "We work with transgender people, conservative Christians, people in their 50's..."
Doctor Two walked into the room, shook our hands, and sat down.
"So this is a transgender couple," said Doctor One," and I was just telling them that we are like a big tent here." She reiterated the list of "unique" populations they serve. She then began to check her Blackberry. Doctor Two began to talk with us and asked us what questions we had about their practice. He was much more at ease with us, relaxed and casual. Doctor One excused herself to make a phone call. Doctor Two addressed our concerns about the fact that the clinic and hospital are pretty far away from where we live, and encouraged us to think about having a doula present at the birth. We talked for fifteen or twenty minutes. Doctor One never came back.
After the visit, S and I agreed that this was not the practice for us. "If she said that line about the tent one more time..." I said.
"A CIRCUS tent, is what she meant!" S laughed. "Don't worry, we're used to freak shows here!"
We realized it really isn't important to us that the doctors with whom we work see themselves as allies to queer folks. We don't want to become anyone's diversity case. We want competent doctors who are kind, knowledgable, supportive, and are focused on our pregnancy, not our identities. Tomorrow, we'll be going back to the drawing board. Tonight, we're still laughing, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, about the big top performance we witnessed uptown.
So this evening, S and I traveled far uptown in the pouring rain to attend a no-charge "meet n' greet" with the two doctors. I arrived before S, so I sat down in the cozy, well-appointed waiting room and tried to get a feel for the place. After a few minutes, Doctor One joined me in the waiting room. She started with, "so what brings you to our practice?"
"Well, I'm pregnant," I began. "And I came across your website on a local LGBT website." She looked pleased.
"Yes," she said, "we work with all kinds of people here." We talked a little bit about my work and how old I am, and then she asked me about my partner. "So tell me about your partner," she said. "What does she do?"
"Um, well... uh... my partner is a transgender man,"I stumbled. "He should actually be here shortly." I studied her face. I told her about his work.
"So, tell me about that. He was a woman and is now a man?"
"Yes, female to male," I affirmed.
"And how long has he been living as a man?"
"Over ten years."
"And did you meet before or after that time?"
"After," I said, feeling put-off by her line of inquiry. There was something about the look in her eyes, the high-pitched tone of her voice, the fact that we had already spent more time talking about S being trans than about me being pregnant that just wasn't sitting right with me.
"Well, here at our practice, we are like a big tent," she said. "We work with transgender people, conservative Christians, people in their 50's... all kinds of people come here."
At that moment, S came running in the door, apologizing for being late. He gave me a kiss, sat down, and squeezed my hand. The doctor continued. "I was just telling your partner here that we are like a big tent here," she told S. "We work with transgender people, conservative Christians, people in their 50's..."
Doctor Two walked into the room, shook our hands, and sat down.
"So this is a transgender couple," said Doctor One," and I was just telling them that we are like a big tent here." She reiterated the list of "unique" populations they serve. She then began to check her Blackberry. Doctor Two began to talk with us and asked us what questions we had about their practice. He was much more at ease with us, relaxed and casual. Doctor One excused herself to make a phone call. Doctor Two addressed our concerns about the fact that the clinic and hospital are pretty far away from where we live, and encouraged us to think about having a doula present at the birth. We talked for fifteen or twenty minutes. Doctor One never came back.
After the visit, S and I agreed that this was not the practice for us. "If she said that line about the tent one more time..." I said.
"A CIRCUS tent, is what she meant!" S laughed. "Don't worry, we're used to freak shows here!"
We realized it really isn't important to us that the doctors with whom we work see themselves as allies to queer folks. We don't want to become anyone's diversity case. We want competent doctors who are kind, knowledgable, supportive, and are focused on our pregnancy, not our identities. Tomorrow, we'll be going back to the drawing board. Tonight, we're still laughing, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, about the big top performance we witnessed uptown.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Foraging
I’ve been running around like a squirrel as of late. Foraging for food, digging around in drawers and cabinets, opening and closing the fridge, racking my brain to find some kind of sustenance every couple of hours that I can not only stomach, but will maybe even help to alleviate my nausea for a while. It has only been two weeks of trying to manage this persistent unease in my belly, but it has felt like an eternity.
More than anything, it makes me feel kind of emotionally unwell. I’m desperate and anxious throughout the day. I’m having a hard time focusing on anything except what my next snack or meal will be. I wake up in the morning hungry and in fear of the next bout of nausea. I run home after work wanting nothing more than to go to bed for the night to forget about the queasiness. The noxious smells of old banana peel in my trash can, someone’s lunch as they walk by my desk, or the (normally scrumptious) aromas from a nearby food truck sends me spiraling into a panic. I’m holding my breath to avoid everyday smells, avoiding even thinking about any kind of food product, and eating more dry, plain carbs (crackers, cereal) than I can handle.
I’m at 7 weeks today and am hoping and praying that the “it gets better after the first trimester” theory actually pans out.
More than anything, it makes me feel kind of emotionally unwell. I’m desperate and anxious throughout the day. I’m having a hard time focusing on anything except what my next snack or meal will be. I wake up in the morning hungry and in fear of the next bout of nausea. I run home after work wanting nothing more than to go to bed for the night to forget about the queasiness. The noxious smells of old banana peel in my trash can, someone’s lunch as they walk by my desk, or the (normally scrumptious) aromas from a nearby food truck sends me spiraling into a panic. I’m holding my breath to avoid everyday smells, avoiding even thinking about any kind of food product, and eating more dry, plain carbs (crackers, cereal) than I can handle.
I’m at 7 weeks today and am hoping and praying that the “it gets better after the first trimester” theory actually pans out.
Monday, June 4, 2012
6 weeks, 4 days, First Ultrasound
“Have you been exhausted?”
“Yes.”
“Have you had tender breasts?”
“Yes.”
“Any nausea?”
“Yes!”
“Excellent, those are all the good signs we’re looking for!”
S and I went to the clinic today for our first pregnancy ultrasound. It was confirmed that we are 6 weeks and 4 days pregnant, and it looks like all is right on track. “You have a perfect, single pregnancy!” the doctor exclaimed. An interesting remark, I thought, but within the context of a fertility clinic, I guess it’s a victory to have a simple outcome to an IUI or IVF procedure. She measured the developing fetus (right now, it is about the size of a grain of rice) and pointed out the yolk sack. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that there is a small being growing inside me. And yet, it was so moving to see its little heartbeat! It’s a small miracle that something so tiny could already have a strong, thumping heart. S shed a couple tears and squeezed my hand. He later told me, “I guess I never really thought I would get to be a dad.”
“Yes.”
“Have you had tender breasts?”
“Yes.”
“Any nausea?”
“Yes!”
“Excellent, those are all the good signs we’re looking for!”
S and I went to the clinic today for our first pregnancy ultrasound. It was confirmed that we are 6 weeks and 4 days pregnant, and it looks like all is right on track. “You have a perfect, single pregnancy!” the doctor exclaimed. An interesting remark, I thought, but within the context of a fertility clinic, I guess it’s a victory to have a simple outcome to an IUI or IVF procedure. She measured the developing fetus (right now, it is about the size of a grain of rice) and pointed out the yolk sack. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that there is a small being growing inside me. And yet, it was so moving to see its little heartbeat! It’s a small miracle that something so tiny could already have a strong, thumping heart. S shed a couple tears and squeezed my hand. He later told me, “I guess I never really thought I would get to be a dad.”
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Reassuring Nausea... and Other Symptoms
I haven't had a chance to post a pregnancy update in a while, so this is just a quickie to report on symptoms. I'm not quite sure whether I'm at 6 or 7 weeks as of today, but for the past two weeks or so, I've been experiencing some pretty distinct first trimester symptoms. Extreme thirst, having to pee frequently, painfully swollen boobs, and utter exhaustion have persisted through the past two weeks or so. It has all been pretty manageable.
And then earlier this week, the nausea set in.
Oh, the nausea. It is not fun. Admittedly, compared to the extremes of nausea and flu-related vomiting I've been through in my life, this past week has been pretty okay. It has mostly been a mild, constant feeling of queasiness in my gut, especially when I'm very hungry or I eat too much. I pretty quickly figured out that if I eat smaller meals, snack frequently, drink lots of water and seltzer, and rely pretty heavily on carbs, I can get through a day without terrible bouts of nausea. Though it has made trying to plan meals pretty difficult - one day a salad sounds great, the next, it repulses me. I've been buying random groceries based on what doesn't disgust me on a day-to-day basis and hoping they don't ultimately go to waste.
Annoying as it is, some internet research on managing nausea helped me re-frame the experience as one that is "reassuring." Apparently, people who experience nausea in their first trimesters are less likely to have miscarriages. And it is a concrete sign, in lieu of a baby bump, that I am, indeed, pregnant. For that, I am impressed by my body's capacity to continue to communicate with me through this beautiful and mysterious biological process.
And then earlier this week, the nausea set in.
Oh, the nausea. It is not fun. Admittedly, compared to the extremes of nausea and flu-related vomiting I've been through in my life, this past week has been pretty okay. It has mostly been a mild, constant feeling of queasiness in my gut, especially when I'm very hungry or I eat too much. I pretty quickly figured out that if I eat smaller meals, snack frequently, drink lots of water and seltzer, and rely pretty heavily on carbs, I can get through a day without terrible bouts of nausea. Though it has made trying to plan meals pretty difficult - one day a salad sounds great, the next, it repulses me. I've been buying random groceries based on what doesn't disgust me on a day-to-day basis and hoping they don't ultimately go to waste.
Annoying as it is, some internet research on managing nausea helped me re-frame the experience as one that is "reassuring." Apparently, people who experience nausea in their first trimesters are less likely to have miscarriages. And it is a concrete sign, in lieu of a baby bump, that I am, indeed, pregnant. For that, I am impressed by my body's capacity to continue to communicate with me through this beautiful and mysterious biological process.
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