When we first started trying to conceive, it felt like we were alone. Yes, we had our friends to talk to, but no one truly understood what the process of getting pregnant entailed (we didn't even know!).
Meg and I had to learn everything the hard way. We spent hours researching on the internet, making phone calls, scheduling doctor's appointments, discussing our options, and reading books (this was Meg's department!). Life would have been so much easier had we been able to run to the library and check out Lesbian Pregnancy for Dummies. (I should write this, no?!?!)
In the beginning, our friends were our training wheels. They listened to our fears and helped guide us in the right directions. They even threw some interesting baby names our way (lol, usher? Yea, no!) When we found out our first IUI failed, our friends encouraged us to try again. They cursed Aunt Flow and counted the days in Meg's cycle, all the while, anxiously awaiting news of ovulation.
When it came time to try again, our friends said prayers and sent sticky thoughts our way. Some of them even created fertility dances (just kidding, lol, I made that one up) It wasn't until after our second failed IUI, that I saw a different side of our friends. They actually grieved with us.
Someone told me that I seem calmer this time around. Granted it's only day 2, but I think it's because it feels as though the entire universe is pulling for us. The training wheels are off and we're starting to pedal...slowly. Whatever the outcome turns out to be, we won't fall. Our friends are right beside us to share the ride.
I'm not an expert on the art of conception. I do not have a panacea for infertility (though I wish I did because there are far too many good people in this world that deserve children). The only thing I have to offer is support.
Until I am able to write Lesbian Pregnancies for Dummies, I'm hoping that people can find solace in the fact that they're not alone.
Thank you for following our blog and for supporting us along this journey. We no longer feel alone.