J and I have spent the last twenty-four hours recovering from our weekend of reverie with our girlfriends. It was mostly fun. We took them wine tasting, ate altogether too much really good food, played some poker, and drank more wine. One member of this group is a person J and I would rather not have in our home (she hates children, tries to play “Queen Bee,” and generally makes everyone self-conscious about her appearance). Yesterday, after they left, we had to spend a bit of time detoxing ourselves from her personality, but we had a wonderful time seeing two of our dear, dear friends.
This week, we will meet my niece and spend some time at my parents’ place “on call” for my sister in case she needs someone to hold the baby while she eats/showers/sits in silence/runs errands. I’m actually looking forward to that, and this weekend, I found myself resenting the above-mentioned woman for keeping me from meeting the baby. I think this is a good step. J isn’t quite there yet, but I think she will be better once she meets her.
For a few days I have been fielding emails from potential donors. I hate it. There’s a guy from Italy who thinks he could ship (no), another who is willing to travel to us each cycle from across the country (don’t want to deal with the hassle or the cost of flights), others who are local and can’t spell or write a complete sentence (obviously no), and then there are some who seem perfectly normal who are in-state but too far for fresh donations and would have to ship. As I go through these emails, I don’t have any of the same excitement I did when we were looking for Mr. G. Instead, I’m almost indifferent. There are the obvious ones whom we won’t even consider (a lack of ability to spell or string a sentence together is a huge NO for a couple of English instructors), but I think J and I are at the point that we just don’t care. Is that horrible? I mean, it would be nice if the guy wasn’t hideous-looking, and we want someone who is healthy, but otherwise, I’m wondering how many of these factors really matter to us anymore. I’m also wondering if we really want to deal with a real person on this matter.
J will have enough classes to qualify for health insurance in the fall–and because we’re married, I’ll get it too. Maybe we’ll get really lucky and have some kind of fertility coverage (doubtful), and we’ll be able to jump in with both feet, buy the frozen goods, have a couple of IUIs per cycle and get this thing done. That would be nice.
Honestly, we’re waffling a lot these days; neither of us is sure which direction to take next, so we’ll just keep thinking about it and looking forward.