Lush.
Cynic.
One-womanizer.
Living in Portland after a much needed
escape from the Midwest.
*my wife and I live in a floating house, so there are a lot of beers on the dock and such (and NO, wife is not just a term of endearment).
My very first visit to the sperm bank website and THIS is the guy I choose first?
It reads:
Any Distinguishing Features (Dimples, Cleft Chin, Roman Nose, Freckles, etc.):Some freckles; some moles; birthmark: mini third nipple (Yes, the doctor told my mom it was actually a very small extra nipple.)
Seriously, what’s the going rate on the nubbin sperm?
I mean REALLY? For these prices I would expect the customary TWO nipples.
The only thing worse than wanting to be preganant and watching every dumb chick you know from highschool get pregnanat on facebook, is wanting to be pregnant and watching every random lesbian you’ve ever known do the same thing…only in 1/3 of the time.
What? You and your GIRLFRIEND are pregnant? You’ve been together for 20 minutes?!!!!
Oh what’s that? You were wandering through life and some free sperm just landed in your uterus?
Wow. Must be nice. I’m happy for you…no really…no really, I promise. I am.
These are words that repeatedly come out of the mouth of one of my co-workers (who is in fact a grown woman, older than me, ans honestly sweet as can be).
She suggests that my wife and I have a “big party” in which we invite all the men in our life over, align some specimen cups in various rooms, and let them donate anonymously.
Then they leave, and we “just pick one”.
I’m not even kidding…she brings it up to me ALL THE TIME.
Is this how straight people think lesbians have babies?
Like pin the tail on the sperm donkey?
Needless to say…if Jason Bateman is involved I’m SO down.
But I never said a damn thing about browsing online for rad stuff!!!! Baby Wolff is gonna be so fly.
___________________________________________________
Annnnnnnd my ovaries just exploded. That seems about right. Good work Nat.
When in the charting stages of lesbian conception you begin to become fully aware of when you are most fertile. Your mind, your body, and your handy fertility chart all tell start screaming “HEY! Hey you! Yeah you, the homo who needs sperm. Just go ask some dude for his sperm and get this baby show on the ROAD.”
Clearly I will ignore these screams of insanity and instead just contemplate immaculate conception and/or hysterical pregnancy while Natalie and I both continue shooting blanks like a couple of ‘mos.
Because I am a big ‘ol lesbian on a quest to make some gaybies, on-line fertility charting systems have become the only remote way that I can even feel even minutely in control of the process of trying to get pregnant.
In said charting you can check a box every day for EVERY SINGLE symptom and emotion known to man woman…with one giant exception: WEEPY. In the section for “mood” there is a WHOLE list of options, but not the one I desperately need…WEEPY. Or how about “crying for no reason at all over things that are actually just making me happy”? How about that?
I can’t be alone on this one.
Come on fertility chart. We’re just a couple of homos that want to have a baby that we can worship and adore like our tiny little miracle, and talk about said baby constantly, and photograph it incessantly like everyone else! This is not too much to ask.
and last but not least
What is it with this kid? Once Matt posted a picture of her standing in a bucket with a ball cap on and I instantly started crying. As in ACTUAL tears. I blamed the tiny hat…but still, TEARS.
*Please note, I have never met this little person in real life.
*Please also note I am 31 and my ovaries are about explode at any moment.
I need to have a damn baby already. (I’m talking to YOU Natalie Wolff…stop shooting blanks and get me pregnant like a good wife)
*Prepare yourself. This is a makin gaybies rant.
So I’m watching THIS:
And let me say first it is well done, and speaks to MUCH of the ignorance in the world regarding families with same sex parents. This couple is loving and doing what comes instinctively to THEM. That being said…there is something horrible about it all.
These women are scanning pages of sperm donors like they’re looking for a pure bred Labrador instead of a BABY. They have a minimum IQ requirement. They won’t even CONSIDER a donor who didn’t go to college or take their SAT’s.They prefer that the donor like all types of food…specifically sushi and Thai food, has nice handwriting…and a slue of other random inconsequential things.
I’m watching this and I’m frowning at the TV.
What difference does it make?
I have the amazing benefit of knowing my future donor VERY well. He’s not always “smart” his IQ probably isn’t high at all, he dropped out of college. But you know what? He loves books so much that he asks everyone else to drive so that he can read in the car. He is funny, and warm, and kind, and sincere. He’s an amazing brother, an amazing son, and an AMAZING father to his two kids. He’s a good MAN. These are not things that you see in an IQ score. These are NOT things that you can determine from what a person does for a living, or what kind of food they like.
Yes, it’s different for us. It’s harder, and more complicated, and more complex. But we’re not shopping for pedigrees…we’re making BABIES. And call me an old fashioned lesbian, but I don’t want to make that baby with sperm that “hopefully has a high IQ”, in a doctors office under fluorescent lights and a room full of physicians. I want to “make” a baby. In the privacy of my home. In the safety of our bed. In the presence of no one else but my wife. And I could give TWO SHITS if our “donor” is a ‘freakin rocket scientist or a ditch digger. I could CARE LESS if he speaks other languages, or if he flunked Spanish twice. When all of the straight women of the world are dating their “prospective husbands” do they check IQ’s? Or SAT scores? Or even favorite foods? NO (well at least not the good ones) they just fall in love then build a family. Plain and simple.
What I care about is not the statistics. Not the facts on paper. Not the potential athleticism, or artistic ability. What I care about is that baby. OUR BABY, and how we will love it, and nurture it, and raise it. Honestly what else really matters?
I have the worlds absolute greatest brother-in-imaginary-illegal-law.
Her:
I don't want to go to Hawaii.
Me:
Wait...what? I thought we had decided we would do "one last vacation" before we start trying to get pregnant?
Her:
I know. I just don't feel the need to have "one last hurrah". Having a baby IS all the hurrah I need or want right now.
Me:
You don't feel like we should just do it while we can?
Her:
I don't feel like our relationship is IN NEED of some magical vacation. I have everything I need with you...expect a family of our own.
Me:
Well that's incredibly sweet.
Her:
I can't think of anything I would rather do more than take a trip with you knowing that we could possibly leave that trip having just gotten pregnant. And we're not going to get pregnant in Hawaii.
Me:
Clearly...
Her:
Plus I kind of hate living out of a suit case and not having our own kitchen.
Me:
Soooooo, baby?
Her:
Baby.
Nat:
We need to get you a hobby.
Me:
A baby?
Nat:
No a HOBBY.
Me:
Yes, a BABY.
