Something to Show

February 26, 2010

So, the test is negative. And that’s a relief. The wondering and excitement about whether I was pregnant this month was distracting me from the massive OPERATION PREGNANCY I am about to UNLEASH on my household next month.

Now, I can go ahead and drop the 75 bucks on Robitussin and the evening primrose oil and prenatals and the pre-seed lubricant and buckets and buckets of bottled water and outlaw coffee and beer, knowing that I am not wasting money or causing myself undue suffering.

Not that I am at the point where I have to choose how to live with my little trying to conceive journey, but today seemed like a good day to post the poem that Wifebian and I happened to read on the night we inseminated.

Good bye try #2; you’ll be missed!

Tulips// Maybe our failed hopes rise like tulips,/ out of the cold ground,/ and when we look around,/ there their satin bowls are, chocolates,// and swaying, velvety clarets, aglow/ with memories of help we thought would/ appear and beliefs we watered./ And we do have something to show,// goblet-like reminders of our stubborn/ labors — or we don’t, and refuse/ odorless flowers and choose/ to live without consolation.// Mark Halperin

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Tulip-like

February 13, 2010

We inseminated last night with the aid of an Instead cup and still no surge detected this morning. I’ve woken up this morning to 3 inches of sparkling white snow that reminds me of my new favorite donut at Starbucks.

Yesterday, I decided that this cycle’s present was not going to be given to the spirit of the lovely child on the other side, but to the egg. This month, I got the egg a shiny gum wrapper. I have decided that this month’s egg is going to have to be like a seagull, plucking and picking at lots of dead and dubious sperms, before finding the tender juicy morsel, much like a seagull does to french fries, rocks and gum wrappers before finding the freshest little sand crab.

Next month, insemination will involve: 4 vials of sperm, a nitrogen tank, a speculum, a flashlight, many digital OPKs and an Instead cup. This will cost us somewhere in the neighborhood of 800 dollars and leave us with 1785 for the rest of the year. We can then do 4 dry ice tries or 2 liquid nitrogen tries.

Every night we read a poem from a poetry book. Last night’s poem started off, “Maybe our failed hopes rise like tulips/ out of the cold ground.” It was a lovely poem, maybe one of the lovliest in the book, just an unfortunate way to end a poorly timed insemination.

So, no offense, Mark Halperin.