Insemination Day

The Amazing Race

8:53 am

Not a single soul in our house slept well last night. Little A got up twice to complain about a scratchy throat, H had tummy pains and had a dream that she barfed up an elephant, N was tossing and turning and Mama S and I were the same. Only three out of the five of us know about the big day in store today.

I keep watching the clock. It’s like the world is in slow motion.

The weather turned from rain, to freezing rain, to snow in less than an hour this morning. I truly love sitting at the dining room table working a way and watching the snow fall outside. I love snow, and I love winter. The whole thing right now is having a very peaceful affect.

I feel calm, but nervous/excited. I realized last night that if our first attempt at insemination is successful, then I won’t be able to do the Les Coquettes Halloween show, which is our biggest show, and which is a concept that I’m writing based on a play I was developing years ago. The plus side is that I have lots of time to prepare, and hopefully pregnancy will bring tremendous creative energy. I really have to fight to not put the cart before the horse.

Today will inevitably be a light work day. I can’t imagine focusing on work tasks after our appointment, really. In the shower this morning, I had this almost ritualistic sense of purification as I cleansed and moisturized. It felt important to take that time to honor my body and reflect on how lucky I am to be so healthy. There is a very strong spiritual sense that is coming over me right now, and I love this feeling. I’d like to carry it forward beyond this experience.

Each time I visit the clinic and see the various women who are there, all for the same goal, I feel really lucky that our path has been so straightforward thus far. Please universe, let us continue to run smoothly.

1:58 pm

We’ve been home for a couple of hours now. It’s pretty clear that no work will be done today.

The procedure went well and with the exception of some very slight cramping, was relatively painless. We had my favourite nurse, Maddie, who has an amazing bedside manner and a killer sense of humor. The whole thing was over in the blink of an eye. N and I made out in the procedure room after, to celebrate.

Mama S wasn’t there. I was warned by my GP long ago to keep my relationship on the DL in case anyone refused to treat us. This seems crazy to me, but it was scary enough that we all agreed it wasn’t worth the risk. If all goes well Mama S can be my date for additional medical appointments. She and N can trade off.

I feel hopeful, and crampy on my left side. I think this is probably all in my head because I know that to be the side that I’m ovulating from.

Now, we wait…

Five Weeks

Having no reserves of patience left, we caved and ordered some urine strips on Amazon and had them sent to our UPS box in Niagara Falls, NY. On the week we were scheduled for our pregnancy blood test, which also happened to be the weekend of our first Les Coquettes show of the season, we drove across the border to pick up costumes and other shopping that had been sent to the UPS store, including the early detection test strips.

We have a tradition where we always stop at Wegman’s for lunch when we’re ‘across’. If you aren’t familiar with this grocery chain, it’s a giant in the industry which in my experience is unrivaled for quality, presentation and customer service. On this particular Wednesday (blood test was set for Friday) I slipped into Wegaman’s, armed with a mason jar, and realized first hand that people do some weird things in public washrooms.

My warm jar of urine securely closed and tucked into my purse, I headed to the car where N had laid out several urine strips. Always given to excess, he bought somewhere in the neighbourhood of 100 of these. I still don’t really know why.

Giving up caffeine right after the insemination gave me the spins and some wicked headaches that lasted about five days. I was sure these were pregnancy symptoms. I also began to pee every hour, like clockwork, which was totally abnormal for me. Every weird ache, cramp, stitch – all became signs that I was pregnant. Or were they? The waiting was excruciating.

N dipped two testers in the jar, each from a different lot. We laid them out and waited. In seconds, in the bright light of the sun, there it was – a faint pink line. I was pregnant according to our little experiment.

I didn’t cry when the news hit. I felt completely and totally full of joy and serenity. It was a bit surreal – I didn’t really expect our first attempt to work. Part of me was afraid to get too jazzed in case the blood tests said otherwise, but most of me was elated. N was adorable – so happy and amazed. We spent the rest of the afternoon fairly blissed out, and kept saying things like “I can’t believe we’re having a baby!”

S. wasn’t with us for this trip, so I bought a little gold glittery box and put some red hearts on it. Inside I tucked the test strips and that’s how we told her the news. I handed her the box and said I had an early Valentine for her. She was pretty thrilled too.

We made a little ritual each morning leading up to Friday that involved waking up before the girls to watch me pee on a stick. Test after test was positive. Friday morning we went first thing in the morning to get my blood work done. I got the call with positive test results later that night at the Les Coquettes Dress Rehearsal while I was rocking one of my Coquettes’ little babies in my arms. A follow-up test two days later showed that my HCG had quadrupled since Friday. It’s usually supposed to double. I am really, truly pregnant.

I told a few of my best friends, and then told the troupe. We went to Barrie last weekend to celebrate both of S’s parents’ birthdays and we told them too. Her mom yelped. It was great. The next day we went to Hamilton, and I delivered the news to my parents and my brother in the same way we told Sarah – I wrapped a test strip in a heart shaped box of chocolates and gave it to my mom “for Valentine’s day” while H. & A. were in the other room engrossed in TV. Mom burst into tears, and then I swore her to secrecy until April, when I’m in my second trimester.

I had thought I could hold out and wait the three months until we’re in the safety zone, but I’m just too excited. I can’t wait to tell Nekky’s parents when they’re here in late March.

My first ultrasound is March 1st. Each little milestone comes with a bit of anxiety – I just want to make sure everything is okay. I have a very good feeling about it all this time. I’ve been spared any vomiting thus far, and feel relatively fantastic, but I’m definitely tired like never before. My new bed time could easily be 9:30 pm. Oh, and they mention breast tenderness as an early symptom. I can tell you that ‘tenderness’ is a gross understatement.

As I type, I am five weeks pregnant. We can’t wait to tell the girls, they’re going to be SO excited to be big sisters. We will definitely wait until trimester two to share the news with them. I feel so amazing about my body, and the work it’s doing right now. I feel completely blessed to be growing a little person inside of me. What a year this is going to be with so many new work, life, and family adventures!

Twelve Weeks

I think I’ve been suffering from an identity crises. It’s been a long time since I’ve visited Schnooville, and since those days of writing with wanton abandon I’ve learned to censor myself, compartmentalize my personality into a series of personas, hold my tongue, stay in my house, and generally be wary and tired where the world is concerned.

Something about growing a person (yay, big news!!!!) kind of snaps you back to reality – or at least in the direction of the reality that you want. Schnooville is my zone, and I’m not ready to leave it behind. I might never be ready to stop sharing my slice of the world here. It feels good. It feels connected to something bigger than me. It feels useful. Most importantly, it feels like me and not some construct for public consumption. Ironic perhaps, but “me” is kind of where I need to be right now.

I’m staring down the barrel of my life these days. Some of it is working beautifully, and some of it is not and I can’t keep holding on to a dream that may never bear fruit. I want a real job (funny time to realize that), I want to contribute to my family in a measurable way, and I want to be realistic about what is possible and what is not. I want to have it all, but I’m fine tuning what the “it” is. I’m dreaming of a blissful, exhausting, enlightening year and a half of early motherhood and then perhaps school, or training, and a whole new path.

I’m posting some entries here that I wrote over several months leading up to present day. Apologies if you’ve read some of them before. They used to live on a blog I created when I thought I might become the poster child for my alternative lifestyle. The truth is, I’m still figuring out how to live, so I don’t really feel like I’m in a position of advocacy, unless there is some merit in advocating getting through each day feeling really good.

That’s my goal now – one foot in front of the other, careful steps, lots of truth, and hopefully good choices.

As for baby, whom the girls have affectionately dubbed as “Mixed Bacon” because this is a term they have created for a person of unknown gender, it’s happy and healthy thus far and my fingers and toes remain crossed that all will continue to go well.

Enter the Dragon

Today we participated in an annual tradition at the girls’ school – the Michaelmas Celebration. This event celebrates the slaying of the dragon by St. George, and is honored each year by grades one to four, with each grade playing a significant role in the pageant. The reason for the tradition was explained to me today, and as usual, really resonated with everything transpiring here in Schnooville.

Michaelmas is a time to look inward and prepare ourselves for the darker coming days of autumn and winter, and for the dragons that await us. It’s about gathering our courage and our faith and facing our beasts to emerge triumphant. It’s the Autumnal Equinox “Festival of Strong Will” according to the Waldorf Tradition.

We were charged (and by ‘we’ I mean my man) with baking the traditional Dragon Bread that is shared after the pageant with the entire school. Dragon bread is exactly that – bread shaped like a dragon, and thanks to a not-so-hilarious scheduling mix up we thought the celebration was on Thursday. Fortunately my guy caught the error, but the result was him staying up until 4:30 am shaping bread into dragony goodness. What an amazing daddy.

I was in Hamilton with my parents and my brother, and had intended to stay the night, but I rushed back because I’d promised my daughter I’d be there to see her deliver her lines (grade two means she’s a gnome now), and she was immensely relieved by this. In Hamilton I was in the midst of my own dragons. Well, I guess they aren’t exactly mine, but they certainly are breathing down my neck.

On Monday we learned that my mom has stage one breast cancer. This was after a nail-biting series of scans and tests, and the cancer was uncovered after a routine mammogram. Ladies everywhere, do not screw around with your paps and your mammograms. It is simply not worth it to let these things go undetected.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that the big “C” is a big fat jerk who has taken two of my aunts (my mom’s sisters) and has also now affected one of her brothers who is dealing with prostate cancer. Now the “C” is at our door, and it simply doesn’t feel real. I had many a sleepless night playing through the “what ifs” and then to have the worst-case news delivered…it’s just bizarre. Truly unbelievable.

Especially because my mom is one tough broad. She refused to seem anything other than herself during my visit. Life seemed utterly normal, and so I just went with that. Stage one at her age and her health is a totally positive success story, and anything other than a valiant battle is simply un-fucking-acceptable. If she’s sticking out her chin and saying “Fuck you Cancer” then so shall I.

It’s scary as shit to have a parent with a serious illness. It’s scary to consider the possibilities and play the scenarios over and over in my big, rambling head, but I’m going to take my cues from the Waldorf kids and from the brave warrior woman who is my mom. My shield will be faith and my sword will be strength and courage.

My family is so awesome. My aunties and uncles descended like storm troopers and my wonderful loves and kids were ready with millions of extra hugs and kisses, and Kleenex and foot rubs. My in-loves (thanks Daniella Aum for such a great term) are sending prayers and love, and my friends are all rock stars who know exactly what to say.

It’s amazing how things that aren’t exactly happening to you are still happening to you. It’s amazing too how life-altering changes always arrive in the fall here in Schnooville. I want to be a rock and I want to be a pillow as required for my amazing mom. Someday I’ll tell you the story of how she took down a pervert who was stalking me in a department store. If she attacks cancer like that, she’s going to be just fine.

 

Power Outage

I’m exhausted today for no explicable reason. I slept well last night, with a decent bed time. So strange…

At 2:30 this afternoon the power failed, fortunately right after I completed the work projects on my to-do list for the day, so I did what any reasonable person would do – I curled up on the sofa with a book and promptly fell asleep. It wasn’t much of a nap though, so I expect it will be a low-key evening for me. Everyone should nap. I really love it so much – the process of just shutting off for an hour or so in the middle of the day.

We’re in the home stretch now before our loved ones return and I’m so looking forward to hearing all of their stories and seeing all of the pictures. This trip was important for us – lots of things were discovered about our relationships, and for me despite how hard it was, it was really good to miss these people that I love. I feel like the “me” time was really rewarding, and I feel like I will appreciate everyone even more when they return.

How incredible for my lady and I to just enjoy each others’ company. I so enjoyed the chats we had, the meals we shared, and the little dates we made along the way. It was nice to know that we manage just fine on our own.

Some additional killer recipes were discovered on Epicurious:

This stir-fry is astounding. I added a clove of minced garlic, and used only one mandarin orange and it was perfect.

Last night I tried this with a Rowe Farms chicken. My lady had a funny tummy, so the subtle flavour really hit the spot. Delicious. I roasted it until the thigh read 185 degrees.

This weekend includes visits with friends, brunch to celebrate the engagement of my best guy pal to his lovely lady, dancing with some hot babes, and a visit with my family to celebrate my dad’s and brother’s birthdays. So many Leos in Schnooville! I feel inspired right now, and so grateful for the abundance of love and opportunity in my life. I even have the great Arthur visiting for the weekend. Now I just need some caffeine so I can go and take a bite out of Friday night.

 

The Rainbow Bridge

At the Waldorf School, the kids in early childhood education are told a very special story on their birthdays. The short version is this:

When you were a little angel, you saw your family from the clouds and you loved them right away, so you asked the Big Angel if you could make the journey and go to them. The Big Angel gave you the blessing, and you crossed the rainbow bridge, sailed along the big river in your little boat, went through a dark tunnel and then passed into the light into the arms of your mommy (in our case mommies) and your daddy.

It’s so darling, and in reading about child development and parenting through the teachings of Rudolf Steiner, I’m also really into this concept that babies are ethereal beings who have to be taught how to be in the corporeal world.

Today, on this splashy, grey day I’m a bit humbled at the notion that my body could someday house an ethereal being.

Silly right? I mean, I believe that I have a soul, so technically I already DO house an ethereal essence, but imagining a perfect, untainted, unformed little being thriving within my banged up, bruised up self is kinda making tears spring to my eyes as I type this.

When I really stop and think about my existing little girls as ethereal beings who are moving from their intangible purity through their real, living existence it’s even more rattling. Where was this concept when I met them? How have I not thought of this with every second that I have known and loved them? Surely I could have been better? More understanding? More patient?

The body as a house was heavily on my mind today. Am I worthy of receiving such a gift? Am I ready? Is my body ready? I mused on this as I stepped around puddles and met girlfriends for lunch, and picked produce for dinner.

Then, in a perfectly Schnooie moment of synchronicity my sister-in-love sent me a reply to an email where I was talking about the subject of raw spots. Raw spots are our places that can’t be touched without a serious emotional response that we must learn to understand and master, for our sake, and for everyone else’s. I had told her that there are days where I feel like I am entirely a raw spot.

She shared this with me:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some
new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
Because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
~Rumi

Never mind that it’s Rumi, whom I adore. Never mind that the sentiment touched me so deeply and resonated so clearly in my heart. How ’bout the craziness of the first line? I’ve got a real soul-twin in my sister-in-love and I feel that growing deeper each time we get to connect.

So, I guess I’ll be tidying my guest house for any and all visitors who would like to pass through. Hanging up the Vacancy sign. Maybe I’ll even advertise the waterbed and the free Wifi.

I feel like a very small Schnoo indeed today.

A Slice of Heaven

From apartmenttherapy.com

The image above was featured today on Apartment Therapy, one of my favourite blogs. I think this might be my dream home and my dream bedroom. My taste is changing so much. I used to love riots of colour and kitsch, and now the serenity and calm of modern lines, with natural elements really speak to me. For you designer-types, I’d call it eco-conscious mid-century modern.

Serenity. That’s my word for this 35th year of my life. I’m going to make it my absolute priority to transcend my tendency towards stress, anxiety, worry, and fiesty-ness. I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to accomplish this, but I’ll be sure to share whatever I’ve learned. One thing I realized, just this morning, is that the more irritable and anxious I am, the more I need alone time. I think if I’m not careful just to take time out, just for me, for mindless alone activities I start to go a little squirrely.

A cottage weekend is on the horizon. My grown-up dream is to have a very green cottage. No motor boats, totally sustainable, and totally escape pod like. It will have to have a fully outfitted kitchen, amazing indoor and outdoor dining space, quiet corners for reading, and a body of water at either the front door or back door. In a perfect life, when we’re not traveling, I’m living there as long as I can and only heading back to the city when I absolutely need to. I think I’d rather invest in something like that than a permanent dwelling in the city. I hope I can convince my loves that this is a great idea. The girls would absolutely love it and really benefit from it too. The only unfortunate part is the commuting to and from. Not so green, but if we pack 5 people in the car, and only travel when we absolutely need to, perhaps it’s not so bad?

So, this weekend will be my quiet wicker swing. I’m so looking forward to being near the lake again.