Happy with our fur children

I had never blogged before this week. I read the blogs of a couple of friends, occasionally commenting, but never bothered myself. On a couple of the Yahoo groups I was and am a member of, many of the members have extensive blogs, usually about their kids or the process of trying to have or adopt them. When we were in the throes of trying to get pregnant, a blog seemed like a good idea...a place to rant, scream, complain, cry or otherwise deal with the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with trying to conceive. I probably should have started one back then, but for some reason, perhaps instinctively knowing we weren't going to succeed, I never bothered. Now I'm playing catch up and feel the need to talk about our journey.

I had always wanted kids when I was growing up and knew that I would have them when I was ready, whatever that meant. I didn't necessarily plan to be married, just ready to have kids. When I came out at 19, the climate around here for lesbians wanting kids was, to say the least, bitter cold. Any lesbian who had a child was not considered a "real lesbian", since they had obviously slept with a man at least once. Alternative insemination was an option, but it was still in the dark corners of the medical world and it also meant that you had to have....EEEK...sperm in your body. Regardless of the reason or method, this was bordering on blasphemy. Needless to say, if I ever wanted a date, a relationship or even to have sex with a woman, I had to suppress any and all feelings of wanting to be a mother. I did this very successfully, burying all desire for motherhood way down in the depths of my newly found and proud dykehood.

Four years later I met Debbie. We have been together ever since...you can count 'em, it's 17 years. When my father died in 1991, I went through a powerful time of desperately wanting and needing to have a child, to carry on my legacy. I realized this was primarily due to my father's death and decided not to say anything to Debbie and ride out the wave. The wave lasted 8 years and I figured out it wasn't solely due to my father's death. The feelings of wanting a child had changed over the years, but they hadn't gone away. It was time to deal with them and talk to Debbie. She was not happy. After some big time arguments and intense discussions, we decided we wanted a known donor who would have an uncle or godfather type of role in our child's life. We wanted our child to be able to know her or his family history and most importantly, detailed medical history that you simply don't get from an anonymous donor. I approached a couple of friends, most of whom said they couldn't do it and not be a part of raising the child. One co-worker friend at first was very excited to help, then when it came time to see an attorney, he ran scared. Many tears later, we decided to use a bank. The selection process was insane, we had different qualities in mind...I was more interested in whether or not we might like the guy if we met by chance, Debbie was all about the family medical history.

So, we went ahead and finally settled on a donor, I did the Clomid cycle, and BAM, I got knocked up. Everything was hunky dory and then I miscarried at 7 weeks. We didn't take much time off, chose another donor (first was out) and Clomid, IUI and BAM, knocked up again. This time the pregnancy held on for 11 weeks before I miscarried. The day we learned I lost the heartbeat was the same day we signed the mortgage papers on our first house. Talk about an emotional rollercoaster. We moved in November of 2000 and on Christmas morning, a few weeks after heart surgery, Debbie's mother died. Needless to say, everything was put on hold. Fourteen months later, her father died after his heart surgery and a month after that, Debbie was robbed at gunpoint in the store where she works. Life, to say the least, was a fucking mess. Somewhere in all of this I did another IUI but nothing.

After life settled down a bit, we switched gears and thought of adoption, but considering we're both disabled and middle aged, we wanted to go through word of mouth rather than the state system or a ridiculously expensive private adoption. Almost immediately, a so-called "friend" said he knew of a girl, daughter of a friend of a friend, who was pregnant, wanting to go the adoption route...seemed too good to be true. He told me to wait for a call from the family's lawyer. He kept up this lie for 8 months...my desperation for motherhood fueling my ignorance...before I finally told him to fuck off and stopped believing him. I was devestated to say the least. I stopped the entire process, too humiliated and devestated to continue.

In 2004, a dear friend, out of the blue, offered to be our surrogate. Understandably she didn't want to use her eggs or husband's sperm, so while she did the research for her part, I went in search of donated embryos left over from IVF cycles. Rather quickly I found 3 embryos available for donation and at the same time, she learned that with her family medical history, the medication protocol required for surrogacy would put her at extremely high risk for cancers. The embryos had actually come out of an IVF cycle with a lesbian couple and a straight man, and even though they decided to give them to another woman, we once again switched gears and I convinced Debbie to let me try to conceive again. This time, we'd try until I turned 40 in August of 2005. The donor for the embryos was more than willing to help us as a sperm donor, and I did six months of Clomid cycles with nothing to show but huge medical bills. In a last ditch, I went to an RE for one cycle, used injectibles, and still nada. Every time, I was told my ovaries and uterine lining were perfect. Every time I had at least 2-4 eggs ready to pop. Everything seemed to be in perfect order, but nothing happened. It was time to call it quits.

After all of this, 6 years worth of heartache, money spent, dreams lost, lots of therapy, I think I'm finally happy where I am. No, we don't have any human kids, but I think I'm really ok with it. I find myself spending time and making friends with women who have chosen not to have children. I am looking at the future in terms of "wow, we can afford to do xyz", and that all we have to do is arrange for a pet sitter for vacations. I wish it had turned out differently, I would love the opportunity to raise a child, teach her or him life lessons and do better than my parents, but it's not to be. I will find an organization and become a mentor, lecture in schools about being lesbian, and otherwise have positive influences on kids...just not my own. I am happy with the fur children that we have, even if they are pains in the ass sometimes.