Archive for October, 2008

Who’s Eggs In Whose Basket? (Part One)

So anyway, back to now.

L and I had decided that her eggs must be the problem so we spoke to our FS about using my eggs for L to carry.  Although he was a little suprised he agreed that it was worth a try – even if he did look at us like “crazy lesbians are in the building”.  But I take comfort in the fact that we are his ONLY same sex clients ever, so anything we do must seem a little out there at first.  Just think how easy we are making it for his future lesbian clients without any fertility issues!

So the three of us headed back for  another round of counselling with the clinic counsellor (apparently our situation is totally undefinable in terms of the current laws so we had to do one more round to “cover our bases”).  My utter outrage about being dragged back there again was somewhat mollified when the counsellor agreed that the situation was unfair and told us she was taking it to the ethics committee to be rectified.  Thank you muchly.

Counselling was interesting.  We went in determined that I would start IVF drugs straight away but somehow that turned into L doing one more EPU.  The counsellor recommended that L needed to do one more round of IVF for closure.  I was ok with that (actually relieved) but a couple of days later I was feeling anxious to get on with trying something new.  Lucky for me L told me first that she didn’t want to do another EPU – and she wanted to try using my eggs straight away.

First IVF cycle started well.  Handled all the injections, managed to squeeze in blood tests around work and managed not to punch a different FS doing my first internal ultrasound when she suggested it would be easier to just get pregnant myself.  Ok, like we didn’t consider that before going down this totally difficult path!  Fucking hell – it is hard to be self righteous with your pants off.

First IVF cycle ended badly.  14 follicles but only one egg so cycle was cancelled.  One distraught angry lesbian (me) trying to be consoled by the other distraught but less angry lesbian (L).  Once again I ponder why we are so useless at this baby making process when obviously any other crack whore questionable character with a uterus can do it.  As displayed daily in front of our fertility clinic.  If I ever need to give directions I could just say, following the row of heavily pregnant women chain-smoking while attached to IV fluid drips, shrieking at several of their other offspring while discussing what to spend the baby bonus on the time (give you a clue – it isn’t the baby).  The IVF medication bag should come with a brick in the bottom.

I crashed and burned.  But I got up again…………


The Paper Trail of Making Babies

Now that J had agreed to be Our Boy, we headed into the paperwork side of things.  We’d made an appointment to see the gynocologist attached to the clinic as well as to see the clinic counsellor for the mandatory counselling required by everyone using the clinic.

Appointment with gyno went well – she asked us lots of questions and after we explained everything to her, she smiled and told us we were one of the few lesbian couples she’d met who’d thought things through.  We are just like that – ask anyone.  She did tell us we had to lose weight (but not in hideous, “get out until you’ve lost half your body weight” kind of way, like we’d feared).  But basically she said that we’d have to wait 6 months to start treatment because of using a known donor (legal requirement) and as long as L lost 15 kilos in that time, she would be happy for us to start.

Before we headed off to the counsellor, we decided to write up a parenting contract between the 3 of us.  Basically to make sure we were all on the same page about rights and responsibilities, and also so we could show the counsellor we’d really thought things through.  So between several hours googling, several hours pondering and several hours typing and retyping – L and I had hashed out a proposed contract for J to look at.  He came for dinner (a reoccuring theme in our relationship) and we talked babies, and parenting, and birth plans, potential names, and extended families and everything under the sun.  Five pages of step by step guidelines in creating our family.

It gave us fantastic opportunities to talk about all kinds of things – even stuff we thought we already had.  I remember in the contract I wanted to be called “Mummy” while L would be “Mum” (always irritated me that bio mums always seem to be mummy) and J said – “So I will be J***”.  L and I looked at him like he had two heads – what’s wrong with being “Daddy”.  He’d assumed we wouldn’t want the baby calling him dad.  Wrong.  I mean, it’s not like either of us wanted to be Dad.

Finally the epic contract was finished – and we marched off to see the JP at J’s work to have it notorised.  Under our state law, J would have no rights as a donor anyway, but we liked the idea of having a written statement of our intentions.  We were a bit nervous about using the JP at J’s work (weird boundaries there) but seriously, the poor old chap was so blind, he actually signed one page half on the paper and half on the desk.  Not sure how that would stand up in Court!