an internet debut

"Making a Mommy" was supposed to be the blog I used to detail all of the highs and lows of the baby making process.

What I didn't count on were the disproportionate number of "lows" that I would encounter throughout the process. I had considered and braced for many -- including ones that were designed or imposed specifically to block my partner and I from having a child together. And I was aware of the risk of others from which no person or couple is safe (medical complications, for example).

A litany of lows does not a good blog make. And boy howdy, did we have lows.

And then, we had a high. A big, fat, positive high.

On January 22, 2013, assisted by our OBGYN, my partner and I conceived our child -- a girl -- who will be joining us in the flesh on or near October 14, 2013.

I am going to be a mom.

We are going to be moms.

Holy crap. I'm going to be a mom.

the positives and negatives of testing for pregnancy

The whole process of testing for pregnancy is horrific.

the making of a mommy

The irony of a barren and childless gay woman setting out to produce a mommy blog is not lost on me. But we do not always get to choose our calling — often, the calling chooses us.

the year of the baby

2012 has officially become the Year of the Baby.

Since Jan.1, I have been committed to making my life, my body, and my soul "baby-ready." I've been aggressive in two areas I feel are essential for family life: finances and health.

In the effort to make a mommy out of me, I've been mindful about food and fitness choices, as well as eliminating debt remaining from past mistakes or mishaps. I'm happy to say that 21 days later, I've made a habit of both.

I'm batting around some ideas, and until I have words that I understand behind them, this page may be a little silent. A quiet mind is welcomed at times, I suppose.

resurfacing

I know being a mom will be tough. I just wasn't prepared for how difficult it would be to become one. Our Plan originally was to use known donors to help achieve pregnancy. It comes with a pretty daunting legal risk, but seemed the most ideal and personal way to approach conceiving. 

However, this approach meant relying on another person, and with that came the question of his emotional readiness.

After the most recent potential donor (who also happened to be #3) backed out at the end of this summer, I found it increasingly difficult to write posts that didn't focus on my disenchantment. I have so much I want to blog, to discuss, to explore, but each time I sit down to write, I cannot bring myself to do it.

I want to write a mommy blog, but I'm not a mom.

And despite our efforts, I'm not a mother.

well, the cat made it

I never thought I'd be the "mommy" type.

I've always had a "sticky" aversion, even to the point of not eating lollipops as a child. I chose to teach at the secondary (high school) level because the idea of wet, dirty-faced, crusty children nauseates me. I sympathy puke, sometimes even at the thought of someone else puking.

the list of lows

Our journey has been dotted with highs and lows.

And so far, the lows have had it.

Our first known-donor ended up having a vasectomy. Our second never showed up. Our third wanted to assert parental rights if the child ended up being a specific sex. The rapid succession of known-donor lows was dizzying.

Hundreds of hours of research (and legal consultations, and interviews...) led us to the conclusion that the risks associated with using a known-donor were too great, so we decided to enlist the services of a sperm bank. But with this decision came a new set of lows (pricing lows were anticipated; inventory lows were not.)

When you're trying to conceive, your mind is stuck in a loop of hoping for a positive pregnancy test. No one thinks about all of the possible complications a pregnancy might have before you conceive. But you never stop fearing them once you do conceive: every sensation becomes a pregnancy symptom, and every twinge a potential miscarriage. The highs of a positive pregnancy test shifted to lows of missing symptoms, unexplained bleeding, lackluster blood tests, somber conversations surrounding the term "ectopic," shots of methotrexate, isolation, betrayal by one's own body failing to do the very thing it was uniquely designed to do... these lows are ever-present fears throughout the process. Until they are no longer fears and become truth.

But these lows did nothing to prepare a pair of would-be moms for the lows launched by others. While sex may be a private matter, conception and pregnancy are not -- not by any means. Once you've conceived, strangers and acquaintances line up armed with their own opinions, beliefs, and facts with which they are hellbent on assaulting you. Suddenly, hoards of people -- mostly women -- think you've fallen stupid ("You know that you can't drink while pregnant, right?" or "Just because your sperm donor has blue eyes doesn't mean your child will. Your eye color plays a part in it, too."). And if they can't hurl attacks thinly veiled as logic, they most likely will begin lobbying for their own opinions, which are often devoid of any logic or respect for you as a human being ("You did look at the race of your donor, right?" or "What are you going to tell the baby when it asks about its Dad? I bet you didn't think of that.")

While none -- none -- of these can pale the overarching high of Oh My God We're Having A Baby, the daily barrage of vapid comments and commentary regarding myself, my partner, our fetus, and our future can be suffocating and devastating.

And let's be honest -- it's NEVER the smart, pulled together, quality parents slinging their verbal feces at us.

But each low (it seems like there's a new one every day) can usually be forgotten when I catch the sight of my partner's rounding belly, when I pass by the refrigerator door filled with in utero photos of my baby girl... or when I picture these miserable people sulking in anguish over How I'm Ruining My Life/My Child's Life/All of Society, knowing fully well that in the end, I will love my child infinitely more than they can ever hate me.