Tomorrow, the clinic

I have so much to say and no time to say it in. The short of it – things are going wonderfully with Mia and Urs and we had a lovely evening together talking about any and everything, playing with the kidlets, and dining on good Southern cuisine prepared by Frank. I took a long time deciding on what we should prepare for Mia and Urs’ first meal with us (I say we as if I actually helped with some of the cooking, but I had the idea and it’s the thought that counts, right?), and it was a crowd pleaser.

We will leave at 7:30 am to make the approximately 2.5 drive to the clinic, hopefully leaving us with a little time to spare just in case we get lost or carjacked. First, the shrink will psychologize us to make sure we’re fully prepared mentally for the surrogacy. Next, back-to-back appointments for poking, prodding, and donations of various bodily fluids (Oh, God, the horror I will face to know that Urs will be called back to give his sperm donation for analysis and cryogenic freezing. Hopefully at that time I will be off in some other part of the clinic, because otherwise, what the hell do I say if I’m sitting right there in the waiting room when he gets back? Did everything come out alright? How’d it go? Did they at least have good mags and movies? I shudder.).

Hopefully tomorrow they will be able to tell us when we can start meds and an approximate transfer date. I am a sick, sick puppy to dream of big assed progesterone needles and consider it a good dream, not a nightmare.

Tiny bit of a side note: I am currently working on a poetry unit with my 8th graders. Among other things, they are working on poetry books and are given one or two types of poems to compose each day. Friday’s assignment was for them to compose "I Remember" poems, in which they recount 15 of their most memorable moments from their lives (good or bad). A student wrote this in her poem:

I remember last year when my mother found out that she was pregnant. She was shocked and was so happy because long ago, a doctor told her that she would never be able to have any more children. I was elated, because I have always felt so lonely and was excited to know that soon, someone would call me "Big Sister."

I found it very interesting to hear this unusual angle of one of the many ways in which infertility hurts.