Eat for Two

Unexpected words of wisdom:

One cheese sandwich and a glass of milk are enough to ensure healthy development of a fetus while preggers.



So much for late night ice cream and mid morning pickles!

Synchronicity (Sarah McLachlan...not The Police)

I can not believe it has been nearly two years since I posted on this blog. That passage of time speaks to so many things...my long stretch of indecision, our commitment ceremony, my long stretch of indecision, my fears, my gender issues, etc.

BUT, we are nearing a decision making time and this email from Liv was exactly what I needed to get me back into the habit of posting on this blog.

So, here it is and hopefully it will be just the spark I needed to get back on here.


hey there,

i just had the craziest thing happen. i was opening the shed and putting my shuffle on and i was thinking about the day when i was riding to work and heard that cindy lauper song that totally made so much sense and made me think about what we had been going through at that point. well, i had this weird feeling something similar was going to happen today as soon as i rounded the bend onto findlay a really pretty sarah mclaughlin song came on. i heard the piano and turned it up loud and somehow knew it was going to reflect what was going on with us right now. so she starts singing "open up your morning light, say a little prayer for I" and then it goes on,

"she had two babies. one was six months one was three..."
and then at the end of that verse,
"would her son grow up to know his father"

at which point i totally started getting chills. i'm thinking, yes -- that's exactly what we want to know!!! and then,
"I don't want to wait for our lives to be over,
I want to know right now what it will be
I don't want to wait for our lives to be over,
will it be yes or will it be no."

crazy!! it was so weird that it was exactly what i was thinking about this morning. anyway, i kept waiting for her to sing us the answer. like

"she decided that,
she should get some unknown sperm,
shoot it up there and be done
she don't want to wait
for all those tests to be over..."

anyway, it was just crazy though. it did make me think i am really excited to get started with you though!! i hope we figure all this out soon. i am glad we are seeing penny tonight!

love you,
me

So terribly public.

It's been too long since I have written. I've had the title of this blog scribbled on my 'to do' list for the past 3 weeks and now even as I finally sit down to write, I am struggling to get the post out.

What I am thinking about is the very public nature of pregnancy. Duh, right? Except that I get strange looks when I wear a dress. What's going to happen when my stomach swells?

People still mistake me for a boy.

OK. It is that simple. I look like a boy and boys don't get pregnant, and neither do many tomboys and that is what I am thinking about when I say being pregnant is so terribly public.

This is one of those awkward places where gender expression and sex status collide to make the person at the apex of that collision uncomforable as hell. And sadly, this is something I truly consider when thinking about biological motherhood.

Gender norms stink.

Beaver

By the way, we stopped for ice cream at Emma's Frosty Kreme in none other than Beaver, Ohio while on our retreat. How perfect is that?

Big Rock

It's been a week since our retreat. It's wild how 24 hours can feel like 3 weeks and, conversely, how one week can feek like 10 minutes. I can't believe we've been back for a week. We went to a fantastic cabin near Jackson, Ohio called Big Rock. It's goregeous there. Rolling farm land, massive rock formations, beautiful clear meadows...a perfect place to unwind. We did some hiking soon after arriving, then soaked in a hot tub before cracking into the champagne while seated on top of the big rock that overlooks the entire valley.

So, while we talked plenty about jobs and career stuff, most of our talk time focused on the big B issue. Babies. Who's having them, when, how (clearly a big issue for lesbians), etc.

I'm not good at talking about this issue in specifics yet. It's all conversations like "if I were to be the one;" "assuming it's me;" "how would we do the deed," etc. In other words, it's all very vague at the moment. It's like saying something without fully saying it. Somehow that's working best for me right now.

I am even finding it difficult to write about our conversation. It isn't easy to relay information in detail that was vague to begin with.
As I write it is occurring to me that our choice of Big Rock is quite the perfect metaphor for what it feels like for me to be staring before this decision right now. The pictures convey at least part of my thoughts on the matter.

How is it that Liv looks so at ease?

Age 7

Look at that stance. Total tomboy at age 7 in my friend Paul's school jacket and winter coat.
Need I say more about the origins of my tomboyhood?

Retreat A'hoy

We leave for our retreat on Wednesday morning. The primary goal of this retreat is to discuss our future, our future with a capital F, future. Future means jobs, commitment ceremony, family, houses, school, etc.

I am 35 and if I want to bear a child I need to hurry up. There is no doubt in my mind that I want to be a parent, I have been clear on that for a long time. What I have not been clear on is the idea of being the biological mother.

I am a tomboy...still, even at 35. I have been tomboy through and through my whole life. My favorite Christmas ever I got a wheel barrow, a drum kit and a giant tractor. I have always climbed trees, played sports, ridden bikes, and had short hair (and for the brief times when my hair was long, I was absolutely miserable). I've been called sir more times than I care to remember. I even got beat up once because a neigborhood bully thought I was a boy and since it was ok to beat up boys, he kicked the crap out of me.

I have never wanted to be a boy, the closest I came was wishing for some intersexed blend of boy and girl where I would have male anatomy on top and female anatomy on bottom (this to assure that breasts would never grow and then proceed to get in my way when I was playing ball). I was so angry on my 13th birthday and the corollary approach of puberty, I threw a fit at the receipt of pantyhose from my grandmother. For me, 13 symbolized the death of freedom and the onset of a life filled with make-up, heels and bodily changes of which I wanted no part.

Somehow I made it through 13 and high school and then college and in the midst of all the gender confusion I found myself comfortable in a lesbian identity. Now, as I am getting ever closer to that scary word "middle aged," and I have a wonderful partner and am thinking about starting a family, I am coming ever closer that dreaded decision. To carry or not.

And thus, this journey begins...