The First Time

November 30, 2009

The first insemination was a tragi-comedy. It was a mixture of the Laurel and Hardy comedy sketch “Who’s On First?” and a rousing game of Telephone — with a whole lot of feelings thrown in for good measure. To detail the details  will most certainly be to explain why Wifebian and I are not ready for motherhood, except that I dont believe in the whole ready/not ready thing, so this one’s for you and posterity and my own nascent understanding of what it means to be me — ttc edition.

So, after receiving your comments, I emailed Le!and the night before we were scheduled to come in to ask if we could take some spermies home with us. The next day, all I got from him was a voicemail message saying that he had to change the appointment from 3:30 to 5 and basically ignoring my email, if he had seen it at all. I couldnt check my actual email until I was on the way to the clinic later that day. My friend lent me a dumb iphone with a screen this big and the only thing I found in my inbox was my own email quoted back to me with him saying that he was changing the appointment time and had left me a voicemail.

I tried to explain to my friends about how frustrating this was and they tried to tell me that I could just change banks if I wanted to and I tried to tell them that this was the only GAY place that does OPEN donation and I want my child to grow up KNOWING who he and/or she is. I think I yelled. Because seriously, you just dont tell a bitch that she can “just” switch banks 15 minutes before she rolls up to her first insem. I mean, right?

So, the actual sperm shop was 45 minutes by BART and Muni. My friend had booked a Zipcar, but when we went to extend the Zipcar to accommodate the later time, we found that it had been booked for the slot immediately following ours. My first friend talked to my second friend and the second friend volunteered to drive us. Awesome.

I thought that it would be awesome to have friends along. I love my friends. I have lived 3000 miles away from them for quite some time and we have missed so many milestones in one another’s lives that I really embraced this opportunity whole-heartedly to be with them and them with us, to share our lives. I had explained to Le!and that we wanted to do a vaginal insemination at the office in order to get the hang of it. He said we should expect to be there for an hour.

We were about 15 minutes from our destination when I said, “So, what are you guys gonna do while you wait for me and Wifebian?” At which point it became clear that first friend had not told second friend that the appointment would take an hour. Second friend said that she couldnt stay for an hour and was just going to drop us off at the clinic. I did not yell, but I did crack. We had arrived and were a half hour early, so we drove to the nearest McDonald’s to wait. I started calling cab companies with ferocity. I asked, calmly if she would please reconsider and she said she wouldnt. She had to get back to her husband and child, she said.

Wifebian suggested that I stop blindly calling cab companies and that maybe she and I take five minutes alone to center ourselves before we make this baby. She suggested that we figure out how we were going to leave when the time to leave came. I agreed. Our friends got out. I started crying.

l was all sorts of angry, ashamed and paniced. I pictured myself standing in front of the sperm shop waiting for a bus while jiz leaked into my panties. I was beside myself trying to imagine walking into an unknown building, in an unknown place, into an unknown situation, not knowing how I was going to get out of it, totally powerless and unprepared. And, of course, I was really hurt that my friend was going to abandon me there for no apparent reason except that it was inconvenient to stay. I felt really dumb for letting anyone share this moment with us. What did I think this was? A fucking sleep-over?

Then, first friend and second friend were back in the car and we drove the two blocks back to the sperm shop. The second friend stayed out in the car, I wasnt sure why, while Me, Wifebian and the first friend walked into Ra!nbow F!@g He@!th Serv!ces.

I will wait for another day to describe to you the building and the facilities. I will also wait for another day to describe Le!@nd — the aspects of his interpersonal style or business sense that might benefit from more thoughtful examination. Suffice it to say that he had the catheter in hand, and was looking for his dummy vagina, I suppose, before I realized that he was about to demonstrate an IUI and promptly clarified that I did not need this demo because no such procedure would be taking place that day. At this point, second friend walked in, saying she had called her husband and was all set to stay for the entirety of whatever it was I had gotten myself into.

Then, I asked about taking home sperms for the next day and he said, “Did you bring your dry ice?” With that, the twilight zone turned into a rabbit hole. I stammered that I had not brought “my dry ice” and that I assumed he, being a purveyor of fine frozen sperm, might also have dry ice and he said, “Didn’t you get my email?” And I said that I had not. And Le!and said, “Why dont you just come back tomorrow and get more sperm?” And indicated that he only “said” he was “closed” on Thanksgiving because he did not want to perform an IUI on on a holiday, but that he would be more than happy to step away from the stuffing if it was just to sell some splooge. It was agreed that we would return the next day, Thanksgiving Day, for the second round. With basic communication established, every impediment evaporated. The health savings account debit card went through and the second friend took myself, Wifebian and the first friend to the BART station.

Where we proceeded to make jokes and take pictures. Afterall, where else on this planet, and at what other time in our history will you find a handsome woman on public transportation clutching a latex glove? And at what other place and what other time will that glove have two vials of sperm nestled snuggly in its thumb?


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