Scabby Armpits were the least of my troubles

Bike trip 

I'm sure you can tell by looking at me that I was and forever will be a sleep-away camp kid! Every summer up until I was about 16 years old I would be shipped off to the deep dark woods of Deep River, CT for 8 weeks of sun, smore's and sexual experimentation. 

When campers at my particular camp turn 14yrs old they are expected to go on 2 5-day trips (hike, bike or canoe) throughout the summer. 

These trips were expertly planned to torture teenagers, to test their camping skills and to assess whether or not they would be given the opportunity to apply for a coveted "junior counsellor" position when they turned 16. And covet I did so the summer I turned 15, I signed up for the 5 day bike trip. I was gonna prove to all of the camp administration  that "I" was ready to be a junior counsellor! 

All I had to do was learn how to ride a bike! Simples!

I can remember riding (and falling off) my shiny, brand new, black and red, never ridden, 5 speed bike bought from the finest department store in Long Island...K-Mart! I tried my very best to teach myself to ride a bike the entire summer before my bike trip. I was obsessed! I mean there was a very important job on the line!

I eventually learned how to ride well enough to bike around camp and was hot damn I was ready! Well I thought I was ready until they attached the 20lbs saddle bags to my bike rack. And Boom! down I went. Luckily I had 3 hrs before we set off on the trip to relearn how to ride a bike with 20lb saddle bags. 

But I somehow managed and off we went on our 5 day bike trip starting from our camp in Deep River, CT to some random shithole town in Rhode Island and back into camp in CT. 

 There was 15 of us in total; 10 teenagers and 3 very sad, delusional adults on this trip. I was one of 2 girls on this particular Bike trip. The rest were boys...Very horny, very impatient, very angry testosterone filled teenage boys. Woo-hoo Fun times !

Here are some day to day highlights of this amazing bike trip:

Day 1: 

Oh I forgot to mention the other member of our merry journey... 

My period. My super heavy period. My period came an hour after we set off from camp. I can remember the joy I felt as I sat upon my ultra narrow bicycle seat with a thick overnight sized menstrual pad for the next 10hrs on a bike and then for the remainder of this glorious trip! 

The joys of teenage womanhood! So me, my heavy period and the rest of my fellow campers and counsellors biked about 20 miles that first day. 

Day 2 was actually a fun day. We only had to bike a total of 5 miles and we were allowed to camp on a private beach. We lit a huge bonfire and ate copious amounts of chocolate, baked potatoes, fun dip and nerd rope. It kinda was awesome. 

Day 3 however was less awesome. I woke up with an allergic reaction under my arms to a generic brand of deodorant that my mom bought because it was cheaper than my normal name brand. 

Thanks mom. 

As soon as it was time us to set off for the day, both of my underarms began to bleed and puss and I had to ride my bike without putting my arms down. 

Oh and I still had my period.

Day 4 was quite eventful. Remember the merry band of boys I mentioned earlier.  Well on this day they refused to wait for us and the other girl and I  took a wrong turn and we ended up biking 20 miles off our plotted bike route. We then somehow managed to bike into a wasp sanctuary and as those wasp declared war on us they got trapped inside our mesh basketball shorts and re-stung us about 10 times as they tried to escape our very fashionable basketball shorts. We then dropped our bikes and begin to strip naked right in front of the local fire station in Mystic, CT where luckily the firemen were all outside cleaning the fire truck. 

Oh and I still have the underarm rash and my period.

Day 5: This was the last day of the trip and it was pretty uneventful besides biking the last 30 miles of the trip all uphill with 20 lbs saddle bags, a heavy period, scabbed underarms, wasp bites all over my ass. 

But gosh darn it, I made it! I did it. I completed the 5 day bike trip and because this trip was so eventful for me, I was given a pass and I didn't have to go on any other camp trips. And I eventually earned a coveted junior counsellor position that very next year! 

My vagina wasn't numb...

My pregnancy was quite the journey.

     Those who have heard this story and also have never been pregnant always label it a "bad" pregnancy. And in those frequent instances, I will most likely correct them and say "My pregnancy wasn't bad because at the end of it I was blessed with a beautiful baby boy". Then I say "My pregnancy path was mine alone and won't necessarily be yours..." I usually say that last sentence to help quell the impending fear and soul-crushing anxiety I see welling up in behind their eyes. 
Anyhoo, back to me and my story.

     After I told my wife we were going to have a baby I immediately started googling "morning sickness medications." Now see, I have this crippling phobia of throwing up...yeah you read that right. I'm scared to throw up. (I've had this fear for as long as I remember. I'm even having a bit of uneasiness just typing about it but alas...I must press on. I've never been diagnosed by a clinician or anything but yeah... its gross and the whole throwing up business totally grosses me out. I could probably write an entire post about that alone but I won't and you probably wouldn't want to read it anyway... ICK!)
     So instead of researching pregnancy books and Doctor Who themed onesies, I was researching FDA approved medicines that stop morning sickness in pregnant woman. I complied a list and at our first sonogram appointment I pulled this said list out like I was unsheathing a golden shield of vomit defense. (+50 morning sickness armor) Our doctor laughed at me and said "shouldn't you feel some nausea before you take meds to prevent it?" Ha! Clearly this woman had no idea who she was dealing with and I demanded she prescribe me something on the off chance it might happen! Dammit! Blame it on the pregnancy hormones if you want but after some back and forth between her and I, she took out her prescription pad and wrote me a lovely script!! 
WOO HOOOOO! 
Oh yeah, she also let us hear the baby's heart beat for the first time and that was memorable as well but I GOT MY PRESCRIPTION! YEAAAAAH BOY!!!!

     I was only about 3 weeks pregnant at that time but I sho nuff had that prescription in my hand I thought I was ready for whatever mother nature had in store for me. HA! or so I thought! Fast forward two weeks from there and BOOM! that morning sickness hit my ass like a queasy, dry-heaving mac truck! I remember the first time I felt it and surprise! surprise! it wasn't first thing in the morning! I was driving home form work and I started to dry heave. 
EWW! 
I was told to never let my stomach get completely empty so I kept a ton of snacks in my purse. I constantly munched on crackers and mixed nuts as a way to keep food in my belly. At first I thought it was just the heat because it was August in NYC and it was about 1 million degrees outside. So I shrugged it off, cranked up my air conditioning and keep on driving home. And BAM! it hit me again! My head started to get woozy and my eyes crossed so I managed to safely pull the car over, open the driver seat door and throw up bile. 
EEEW!  (I know it's gross and my stomach is turning just thinking about it.)
So I collected my self, wiped my mouth and broke the speed limit so I could get home as fast as possible. I crawled into our apartment on my hands and knees (completely messing up my 50's style American Apparel tights) and posted up on the couch. I somehow manage to find the morning sickness meds and try to choke two down. 
AHHH HAA! 
They dissolve on the tongue...those clever scientist knew...they knew just what we would need in this disgusting situation!
So I'm on the couch, in the fetal position waiting for my the sweet relief of my magic dissolving pills...and I wait...wait...wait and ummmm it was still there. That ~feeling~ was still there. Before I took the pills it felt as if my stomach was on a bungee cord and it was violently bobbing up and down after it jumped off a cliff but after the pills it felt as if my stomach wasn't exactly bobbing up and down but doing lazy jumping jacks. 
UGH! 
But the nausea had weaned a little. The pills basically just took the puke-y edge off. Damn, I was super disappointed that my magic pills didn't work but at least I was able to move around the house.
And moving around the house was the ~only~ thing I could do. Going to work was now off the table because whenever I stood upright that motion would send some cosmic message to my stomach to purge everything in the lower half of my body. 
UGH!
Fun times! At this point I was about 5 weeks pregnant and I quickly realized that my body (or baby?) needed food every hour and 45 minutes. 
O.K. so listen...I'm not bullshitting you here.  My daily pregnancy eating schedule was as follows:

(Notes: The following schedule is a section the very document I complied when I was pregnant.

             -Zofran is the name of the prescription morning sickness medicine.

             -My doctor advised as an alternative to taking prescription medicines that I could try taking a Unisom pill with a B6 vitamin which has been found to help quiet nausea. As you can see I took both them shits!)

8:15-took uni/B6

           - ate potatoes

10:50- took zofran

              - ate potatoes

1:30- ate pasta

3:30-uni/b6

3:44- ate pasta (feel sick)

5:30-Zofran (real)

7:30-ate potatoes

9:47-ate potatoes uni/b6

7:00am- took Rzofran

7:50-ate home fries

10:50-ate home fries

               - took half  uni /half b6

11:50- took Rzofran

1:30- ate pasta

3:33-took Zofran (felt sick)

4:32- ate potatoes

7:30-ate pasta

            - took Rzofran

8:50- took Rzofran

             - ate potatoes

10:30-ate potatoes

1:05- took RZofran

1:26- ate pasta

2:17- took uni/b6

4:00- ate pasta

4:45- took Rzofran

7:23- ate some potatoes

9:07-took Rzofran

9:30-ate potatoes

12:36-ate potatoes

12:45- took uni/b6

2:00-took Rzofran

2:45-ate soup

4:40-took uni/B6

5:10-ate pasta

5:56- took Rzofran

8:11- ate potatoes

This crazy feeding schedule continued until I was about 15 / 16 weeks pregnant. During that time, nothing much happened because the meds made me super drowsy. I only really woke up long enough to choke down a couple of bites of food and start another British period drama on Netflix. Thank goodness, I started to feel a bit better when I hit the 4 month mark and wheeewww! thank goodness because I was so happy to get off the couch, break up with Mistress Netflix (we started a love affair during this time) and go back to work.

And that I did! Armed with my green grocery bag packed with my "lunches" which consisted of ketchup, vegetarian chicken nuggets, baked curly fries and Amy's frozen vegetarian lasagna I went back to work with a lovely little belly bump. 

But when I hit the 5 month mark, shit got real! 

     
     During a routine sonogram, my OBGYN noticed that my cervix was shorter than it was during the last appointment. The doctor explained the baby was developing well and growing on track (Thank God!) and all my vitals were normal but it seemed like my cervix was getting shorter. This was particularly worrying because if the cervix continued to shorten I was at risk of going into preterm labour. (commence freak out!) The doctor told us not to worry (yeah right!) and he gave me a prescription for some medicine that prevents preterm labour and then he put me bed rest. The very next day I resurrected my not -so- secret love affair with Mistress Netflix, nestled into my comfy spot on the couch and "rested".  After about 2 weeks of bed rest, I was itching to go back to work and when my doctor checked my cervix again he found that it grew back to safe length. My wife and I were so happy that my cervix situation rectified itself because needless to say we were really concerned.  
Unfortunately, that relief we felt was short lived. 

     My doctor put me on a weekly appointment schedule so that he could keep a watchful eye on my cervix. Thankfully he did that because that very next week when he checked my cervix he found that it had shrunk to a length that was dangerously low. He explained, very gently, that the only way to save our pregnancy was for me to have a cervical cerclage that very next day. 

WHHHHAT! 
And before we could think about it, I was signing hospital permission papers and getting pre -surgical blood work drawn. We drove home in silence. I remember rubbing my belly and wanting our baby more than I wanted to take my next breath. I have no idea what I did when I got home. The rest of the night was blur. 

     The next morning I woke up at 5am and my wife told me that I wasn't allowed to eat the maple brown sugar oatmeal packet that I normally eat every morning. I think it finally sunk in that I was having surgery later that day and from that point on I was pissed. I knew this was going to be a long day. 

When we got to the hospital I had more blood drawn. We were then led to a small room where I was instructed to change into a purple hospital gown. The room had two leather seats, a computer desk with a computer on it and a 19-inch flat screen television mounted on wall above the door. I was 5 months at this point and I could feel the kicking and moving around because he was hungry. 

But I wasn't hungry I was "hangry". (hungry + angry=hangry). Actually, I was hangry and super nervous. I was about to have surgery on my cervix while being pregnant....ummm that is some crazy shit! After about 10 minutes of waiting in the little changing room the anesthesiologist came in and explained the procedure to my wife and I. She made a point to tell me that I would be awake during the entire procedure. She further explained that because I was 5 months pregnant she couldn't put me under local anesthetic because of the potential damage to the baby's development.    

O.K. prepare yourself for this shit. 

     She then explained that she was going to walk me into the operating theatre and help me onto the table. (Remember I was 5 months pregnant right?) Then she said she was going to have me sit on the edge of the operating table so she could insert the spinal tap into my spine and then gently lay me back down so she could administer the medicine. O.K. so this happens and to be honest it wasn't that bad. I don't have a needle phobia of anything so the spinal tap didn't hurt at all. When she inserted the needle into my spine she told me to hold my breath and remain completely still. It was kinda crazy, because I felt the needle enter my spine and when it reached a certain point I felt a sharp jolt over my entire body. Now that I'm thinking about it, I probably should have asked her about that but I didn't. (Kanye West Shrug.)  I mean it didn't feel like I was getting a relaxing swedish massage or anything but it wasn't the worse thing in the world. 

The worse pain I have ever felt was coming in about 5 minutes and I didn't even know it. 

      The anesthesiologist asked me to tell her what I felt as the medicine began to make the lower half of my body numb. I remember my butt feeling numb. My legs were sort of warm. But my vagina was not warm or tingling. It felt normal. Little did I know, it wasn't supposed to feel normal. It was ~supposed~ to be completely numb. It wasn't. And I unfortunately didn't realize this until the doctor started sewing up my cervix. 

Now let me explain something to whomever is reading this blog post. I am no wimp. I have felt pain in my life but this pain was something I could never fully describe by using mere words but I will do my best. 

     After our doctor came in and greeted me, the nurses put my legs in some elevated stirrups that made my legs hang open and high above his head. He told me to take a deep breath and then he started. I watched as he took a needle the size and shape of a mattress needle and threaded it with some sort of black thread. He told me to take a deep breath and I felt him stick it through one side of my cervix. 

I screamed! 

It hurt soooo bad. It was pain like I have never experienced in my life. 

I screamed out...

(I am feeling dizzy as I write this because I am reliving this moment as I try to describe it you.)

My doctor continued to sew my cervix closed and I screamed each time as he pierced back and forth through my cervical skin. 

I screamed. I cried out. 

I screamed for him to stop. 

At one point he stopped sewing and asked "Are you feeling pain or pressure?" I was so dazed that I couldn't speak. I managed to say "I don't know just stop". But I knew he couldn't. The anesthesiologist grabbed my hand he started sewing my cervix again. It hurt so bad. The pain was unbearable...indescribable.

I cried some more.

The anesthesiologist told me to look at her and she began to ask me questions about the baby. I suspect she did this at an attempt to distract me from the MOTHERFUCKING excruciating sewing that was occurring inside my vagina. 

I screamed. 

I cried. 

He continued. 

It hurt. 

      After what felt like hours of unbearable pain (he later explained that the entire surgery only took about 10 minutes), he pushed back from the operating table and said "I'm done". He walked out of the room very quickly. 

I was still screaming. I was crying in agony. 

In between the sobs and wails of pain, I asked for pain medicine. The anesthesiologist and the operating nurses looked at me with such pity in their and said "we can't give you anything sweetie because you are pregnant. I'm sorry."

I screamed out and felt my child kick inside my stomach. I had just lived through the most harrowing and torturesome 10 minutes of my life annnnnd he was still hungry. 

But he was alive and so was I. Thank God! 

      I was wheeled to the recovery room and left to "rest". There was NO resting. There was screaming and crying and wailing and howling from the pain. It was unbearable. The baby was kicking inside and I was in so much pain. How can two polar opposite feelings exist at the same moment? It was mind boggling. I screamed at the nurses to help me. I screamed out in so much pain that the other patients in the other rooms demanded that I be moved because I was disturbing their recovery. I didn't care. I was in pain. I wasn't being oppositional for the hell of it! The nurses knew that and after 30 minutes of screaming in sheer agony, they gave me some medicine that was the equivalent of Tylenol. They couldn't give me morphine because....once again...I was 5 months pregnant and anything stronger would harm the baby. 

Allow me to be perfectly clear here.

This medicine did NOT take the pain away. It only took the edge off so I could fall asleep. I only slept about 20 minutes because the Tylenol wore off very fast. When I woke up, my wife was by my side and was going crazy because I was sobbing and writhing in pain. She yelled in out in full patois to all the nursing staff to help me but no one responded. No one had any answers. Finally after about 4 hours of me screaming in pain, the nursing staff called my doctor who performed the surgery to come down to my recovery room. When he reached my bedside, my wife was at the ice machine getting me some ice. He appeared at side of my bed and grabbed my hand and softly said "I'm sorry. You had some bad anesthesia. She didn't know what she was doing." 

My wife then appeared with a cup of ice and doctor told her was sorry and quickly left the room.  

Just let that sink in a bit.....

The rest of the day was a blur. I was in gut wrenching pain the rest of the evening. They told me I wasn't going to be allowed to go home until I urinated on my own. So after 5 hours of laying on that torture bed my wife helped me get up and I inched my doubled over pregnant body to toilet and peed. That was one of the most painful urinating experiences I have ever felt.  

The reality of the situation was that I had just had vagina surgery and MY ANESTHESIA FAILED! 

The spinal tap didn't take....or so I thought. We later find out that my anesthesiologist was a resident student and wasn't experienced at administering spinal anesthesia. 

Awesome. 

      After this agonizing surgery, I managed to walk out of that hospital, get in and out of the car and walk into the house. It took me 20 minutes to walk down the 3 steps that led into my doorway. My vagina hurt so bad I winced and screamed with every step. My mom was in the house when we got home but she couldn't stay in the same room with me because she was too disturbed by my screaming. She had to leave. 

I saw tears in her eyes through my tears in mine.

My poor wife made me some oatmeal, gave me some pregnancy safe prescription pain medicine and held my hand until I screamed / cried myself to sleep. 

Healing from this surgery was a grueling experience. I couldn't walk to the bathroom (or anywhere else) by myself so my mom, cousin, best friend and wife took alternating days off work to take care of me. And being that I was pregnant I had to pee every 5 minutes! The burning and tearing sensation was insufferable. It felt like I was peeing razors blades and chain saws. 

But I healed...eventually.

Thank God.

It was hard....so unbelievably hard.

I never cried out from pain so much in my life. 

The human body is amazing machine. 

How could I be hurt so badly in one area and also be growing a wonderful life in another at the same time? 

The bright side of this situation was that since I experienced this dreadful surgery, I was no longer scared of going into labour. Because what ever contractions felt like, I KNEW they could not be worse than having cervix surgery WITHOUT anesthesia while being 5 months pregnant.  

How we made our lovely baby boy... Part 3: NO! We did use a turkey baster...ugh!

How Tristan came to be
Part 3:

If one more person asks me if we used a turkey baster to get pregnant I'm gonna lose it! Let this be the blog to end to those dumb albeit genuinely curious questions regarding artificial insemination. It's quite funny because my black friends ask if the insemination process was anything like that scene in the season finale of a show called "Mary Jane". Ok so in this ridiculous scene, Mary Jane, played by Gabrielle Union, laid on the floor with her legs akimbo and asked her friend (an obstetrician..pfft..like I believe that...) to inseminate her with the ejaculate that she managed to keep in a condom from her recent sexual encounter. 

UGH! THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS! 

A woman would never get pregnant like that! 

Now my white friends ask if the insemination was like the infamous turkey baster scene from the show The L-word. I don't remember much about that scene but I think I remember glitches of a jar of frozen sperm, and a turkey baster being inserted in a vagina and then the woman doing a handstand against the wall after her girlfriend squirted it up there... Ugh! 

That is a bit closer to the mark but still way off.  I've heard some lesbo fables in which some women get the frozen sperm delivered to their house so they can do the insemination in a calm environment. 

Shiiiiiit! 

Sperm cost too damn much and we are to clumsy to try to do it ourselves. Could you imagine? Sperm all over the bedroom walls and us looking crazy with rubber gloves on with Kenny G playing in the background...ummmm no thank you. 

Let's leave all the sperm insertion to the medical professionals shall we...?

Good! Now to explain how the actual insemination works: 

(Again, this was MY experience...)

While sitting in the waiting room my doctor came over to us and handed us a small, crack vial sized tube with six numbers (the sperm donors identification number) printed on it. My doctor handed it to me and said "put this between your breast to keep it warm." My wife and I looked at each other and laughed. My doctor giggled at us and said "do it now!" 

Whoa! It was the sperm...it's really happening! 

As I was putting the vial between my boobs my wife said "that little bit cost $500?" Jeez, she was right because it was only three quarters of the way full. Ugh...straight couples sure have it easy with all that free sperm.

Anyhoo, after about two minutes my doctor comes back out to the waiting area and beckons us back into the medical room. When I walked in I remember that the room was dimly lit. 

Mood lighting??? Ha! 

Our doctor instructed me to undress from the waist down and to get on the table. She told me to breathe because I guess I was tensing up and she didn't want the speculum to hurt during insertion. I was nervous. That was a crazy moment. All I kept thinking was that we were to be parents and there is no turning back. 

The doctor took an empty syringe with a long catheter tube attached at the end and stuck it in vial of sperm. She drew back the plunger and the sperm went in to the syringe. She then walked over to me and told me to take a deep breath. She inserted the catheter inside my uterus and pushed the sperm inside. After that she tilted the table backwards so I my feet were above my head. She walked over to the left side of the table, grabbed my hand and then said "good luck" and walked out. 

It didn't hurt at all...at all. The entire insemination took around five minutes tops...maybe less. It was sort of underwhelming if I were to be completely honest. 

As we walked out of the office, the nurses told me not to lift anything over 30lbs and to return back to the office for an official pregnancy test in two weeks time. 

And then the dreaded two week wait began... 

As if I could think of anything else besides being pregnant. After every twinge, fart, burp, cough, itch, etc., I thought "am I pregnant?" That was one of the longest two weeks of my life. My wife walked on egg shells around me during that time but managed to ask "do you feel anything?" about a one thousand times. 

And I didn't because at the end of the two week waiting period I went in to the doctors office and received a negative pregnancy test. 

Ugh! I was super sad and I cried all the way home. My wife was super supportive and super gentle. 

For the next cycle we decided to ramp up the fertility drugs. I increased the shots and started taking another fertility drug that my doctor recommended. Unfortunately, that new drug did not agree with my system and it landed me in the ER twice. I lost 30 lbs in 3 weeks and was super ill.  Needless to say, we suspended the baby making until I regained my health. It took approximately five months for me to get back to normal. In that time, I was working full time and I somehow managed to finish graduate school and earn my Master's degree.

The very next month I told my wife I was ready to start another insemination cycle. 

She was NOT happy. She was super worried that the fertility medication was not agreeing with my system and was making me permanently ill. I couldn't blame her for thinking that but I was fine! FINE! I tell you!

I told her soooo many times but she wasn't happy when I made an appointment to start the insemination process that week. And before you know it, I was injecting fertility medication every night and back on the path towards baby making. Around ten days later, the doctor said I was ready to ovulate and she needed to inseminate me that very morning. 

Whoa! 

O.K. Take Two!

 I was shocked! 

Shocked but soooo ready... 

I was at the doctor's office alone that Friday morning as I usually went there before going in to work. My wife was already at work and I texted her to tell her that the doctor wanted to do the insemination right then and there. She was shocked too but I heard more worry in her voice than anything else. 

So again, the doctor did the insemination and sent me on my merry way. 

My wife and I spent that weekend in Fire Island. We ate, danced and partied with all the drag queens and managed to forget about the insemination...well...at least for those two days. 

Looking back on that two week waiting period, I can now say that I felt small twinges in the stomach area. It felt like regular ole' menstruation cramps so I thought nothing of it. 

But after the two week waiting period, I went in for my routine blood test and later that day at 1:00pm in the afternoon I received a phone call that would change my life forever. 

Phone rings...

Me: Hello?

Nurse: Is this Shavon?

Me: Yes.

Nurse: I have the result of your blood test.

Me: OK.

Nurse: You are DEFINITELY pregnant. 

Me: Huh?

Nurse: Yes, honey. Congratulations. 

Me: Can you check again? Are you sure? My full name is......

Nurse: (Laughs) Yes, honey you are absolutely pregnant. Please report to the office tomorrow so you can meet your obstetrician.

Me: (flatly) O.K. Thank you. 

I remember hanging up the phone and sitting in my car stunned. I was focused on this little piece of dust that was on the dashboard. I must have stared at that bit of dust for at least a half an hour before I realized I should call my wife. 

Me: Baby?

Wife: Yes love. Are you ok?

Me: Yeah....ummmm Guess what?

Wife: What love?

Me: We are having a baby.

       LONG PAUSE 

Wife: Really?

Me: Yes.

Wife: THAT'S AMAZING! 

Me: Yeah...crazy right?

Wife: Yes, I love you.

Me: I love you too. I'll see you at home. 

And that was the start of an amazing journey...

How we made our lovely baby boy ...Part. 2

 How Tristan came to be...

                                                                           Part 2:

After spending approximately $3,000 on two unsuccessful inseminations, my wife and I regrouped and decided to call a nearby fertility center. And thank the good Lord we did because this place was fantastic!      

(If you want the contact information for the Fertility center feel free to contact me and I will gladly pass it along.)

At our first appointment, we met with a wonderful doctor whom I will call 

"Dr. M." She was lovely! She explained the entire science-y-ness of "getting us pregnant" and took all the mystery out of the process. In this initial appointment, she showed us a plastic models of the entire female reproductive system. Now let me explain that my wife and are learned folk...between us we have two BA's and three master's degrees and a half of a doctorate. And when Dr. M showed us the entire female reproductive system and then started to explain all that has to "happen" to make a female pregnant we were surprised, shocked and quite frankly intimidated by the entire process. 

Dr. M must have sensed our panic and dread because she immediately  began to reassure us that all will be OK. She said "you ladies aren't the first lesbians I got pregnant so chill out because I only make cute babies!" My wife and I locked eyes, smiled at each other and we instantly knew we were in the right place. 

Towards the end of the initial interview, after we discussed my test results, Dr. M asked us how we wanted to get pregnant. She asked us if we wanted to use fertility drugs during my ovulation period ( to enhance the quality of my eggs) or to  proceed with an insemination au natural by only monitoring my cycle.

Sheeeeeeeeet! We ain't got time for au natural! We wanted a baby and sperm isn't exactly cheap ($600 per vial not including shipping)  Besides fertility drugs are safe right?...right??? 

My wife and I decided to shoot me up with those good ole fertility drugs. We could only afford three vials of sperm ($2,300 including shipping) and we wanted to maximise our chances for a positive pregnancy test.

After visiting the sperm specialist, and placing our order for the sperm specimen we previously agreed upon, we walked back down the hall to Dr. M's office and she gave me a brown paper bag that contained needles, syringes and several vials of fertility drugs.  

(This particular fertility center has a whole staff that helps you coordinate  sperm orders from the US based sperm banks. They also have an    in-house cryobank so the sperm will be on site when the woman is ready to ovulate.) 

Dr. M explained / demonstrated how to inject me with fertility drugs. You should have seen my wife's face. She actually turned green. I have only seen her turn that shade of green the morning after her boi bachelor party. I'm not needle phobic so I was fine. Thank goodness because little did I know I would be injecting myself with fertility drugs and then blood thinners for the next 15 months. (Keep reading to hear that story in part 3!) 

The basic instructions were to attach one of the thin needles to a saline filled syringe. Then slowly add the saline that was inside the syringe to the powdered fertility drug vial. Dr. M said to make sure we shook the vial vigorously to make sure all the fertility medicine was dissolved. After we threw away the used syringe, we were instructed to open a new, empty syringe and draw the medicine inside it. After the medicine is in the syringe, Dr. M showed us how to tap the syringe to rid it of air bubbles. To be perfectly honest, this was the only part of this process that freaked me out. I felt as if I was one of those heroin junkies about the shoot up. It felt crazy but I knew this wasn't that kind of drug. We felt this was necessary so we could get pregnant.

EYES ON THE PRIZE! 

The pregnancy prize! 

Ha! 

Now onto the moment moment of truth! 

Dr. M checked the syringe for air bubbles (and to make sure we did it right) then she told me to grab a hunk of fat on the front of my thigh and to jab the needle straight in. The needle didn't hurt because it was really thin but as the medicine was going into my thigh muscle it stung. A lot. I remember saying "oooooooooooooo" as I pushed the syringe's plunger down and took a couple of deep breaths and it was over. 

Dr. M told us to repeat this process and give myself one shot a day for the next 5 days and on the sixth day I was to report back to her office so she check the size of my eggs. What an exciting first appointment! It exhilarating to walk out of Dr. M's office with a definite plan! We felt so good and accomplished. I remember my wife and I stopping on the way home and picking up our favourite Mexican take out to celebrate being on the definite path towards baby making! 

Woo! 

After five days of injecting fertility medicine, we went back to Dr. M's office for the follow up appointment. I laid on the exam table with my legs spread apart in the stirrups and Dr.M put lube on a vagina probe and proceeded to check the size of my eggs. The doctor said my eggs were responding well to the fertility drugs and she was hopeful that I would be pregnant soon. We were so happy.

Dr.M told us to come back in 2 days to get our first insemination. Yeeeessssss! 

Two days later we returned to Dr.M's office and she told us that my blood test revealed that I was ready to ovulate and it was time for the insemination. 

Cue the dramatic music...

Dun dun dun... 

How we made our lovely baby boy...Part 1

How Tristan came to be...

                                                                         Part 1:

Artificial insemination is a wild concept. If I stop to think about it (and I don't!) the sheer 

science-y-ness (that's totally a real word) of the whole process will make my mind scramble. It took 4 non-consecutive inseminations to conceive the young master. The average is 6 inseminations so we consider ourselves lucky as the process is super-d-duper expensive (depending on your medical insurance) and emotionally draining. And no, don't even think about it, the purchase of sperm is not covered by medical insurance. 

(I do not claim to be an expert on this process. This story is an account of our experiences.)

For me, the process of intrauterine insemination (IUI) began with four diagnostic tests. I refused the last test so it was only three for me. These tests were to make sure my lady parts were in working order. The first test was a run of the mill Pap smear. Pap smears are uncomfortable but they literally only last for a second and it's over. 

The second test however was a doozy! The test is "affectionately" called 'the dreaded dye test'. If you denote any affection from that name then you are sadly mistaken! From what I understand, this test is done to check if the woman's fallopian tubes are clear from blockages and scar tissue. On the morning of the test, I gobbled down a mouthful of home fries and took a Motrin...just in case.  To make a long procedure filled morning short, I laid on a table and the technician inflated my uterus with a balloon and then preceded to inject dye into my fallopian tubes. When my tubes were full of dye the technician took X-ray pictures of both tubes. Intense huh? It was! And as soon as I got off that table of horrors, I took another Motrin! It felt as if someone took a leaf blower, stuck it up inside my vagina, and turned it on full blast. Thank the Gods and Goddesses for Motrin! 

The third test was to check the vitality (?) of my uterus. During this test, the doctor shot saline inside in my uterus. It felt as if he was poking and prodding every single one of my internal organs from inside my lady portal. Thankfully, the test was over quite quickly but the doctor told me to continue laying on the table for an extra 15 minutes because the saline often makes woman dizzy. 

And yes, the saline made me dizzy but it also made me projectile vomit all over the room. I guess eating a Burger King veggie burger and a large order of fries wasn't the best idea before having medical procedure. ::shrug::

While scheduling and then trying to recover from these medical exams, I had to keep on with my normal life. I was working full time during the day and taking classes towards my MSW at night all while maintaining a loving martial relationship with my supportive wife. In addition to all the tests, (as if that weren't enough) I was expected to give blood at different stages of my monthly cycle. A lot of blood! I remember one day before work, I had to give twenty vials of blood in one sitting! It was crazy. Thank goodness for Netflix on my smart phone because I needed an escape during that appointment. 

After a year of that craziness and the test were all scored and tallied, the doctor said my lady parts were all in working order. Woo - hoo! Now we were ready to make a baby...except for one minor detail. 

We need sperm. Ugh! Damn! My gynecologist recommended a company that shall nameless (They were assholes and had the worse costumer service.) and we picked a donor. Unfortunately for our bank account, my gynecologist did not accept our insurance and only accepted cash per insemination.

Ugh! Fine! Let's go! 

We are in it to win it! 

We wanted a baby!

The doctor told us to buy an over the counter ovulation detection kit and when we got a smiley face on the pee stick (which meant I was ovulating) we were to call the sperm bank and schedule an overnight delivery to his office with the intention of getting inseminated within the 48 hour ovulation period. Tricky tricky right! ::cue Run DMC's song Tricky::

We did that convoluted process for the next two months and it cost us a total of $1800.00 cash plus $1000.00 in sperm. I know....Crazy! It was super ridiculous because the insemination process only takes about 7 minutes total. We have never spent that much money in such a short amount of time. And when I got my period after the second month of insemination, my wife told me, delicately, it was time to find a fertility specialist who actually accepted our insurance. 

And that we did...

Chapter 2: What does cunnilingus, homesickness and rats have in common?

     My lengthy college journey towards an advanced degree began when I was just a short and jangly junior high school student of the 8th grade. My 8th grade assistant principal was a proud alumni of Morgan State University and to instill in her students the importance of a higher education, she planned a trip for us to stay in the dorms so we could live like college students for an entire weekend! (Crazy...I know... but it was the early 90's. The era no one talks about.) 

     From what I can remember, this trip was amazing. I can still smell the sweet smell of soul food that wafted in the air and carried us off the bus onto the campus quad. They pulled out all the stops for us! As soon as we stepped off the bus, we were greeted by hundreds of beautiful young sorority and fraternity members stepping and chanting their various organizational songs and strolls. They then ushered us to a grand buffet where they served us every kind of soul food dish one could ever desire. From fried chicken to smoked collard greens to hog maws and pigs feet  (gag) to the most mouth watering desserts like peach cobbler and red velvet cake. I never ate so much in my life! 

     To be honest all I can remember about that weekend was the food and how fly ( check that 90's slang!) those sorority girls looked stepping and dancing. I knew for sure that I wanted to be one of them and when it was time for college applications to go out, in my junior year of high school, I remembered those very "mature" 8th grade feelings and foolishly only applied to Morgan State University. When my acceptance letter came in the mail I screamed so loud I swear my ancestors could hear it.  However my girlfriend at the time was not accepted and put on the wait-list. (Insert tires screeching sound here) Luckily, she was accepted later in the year with the condition of attending some pre-frosh summer classes and everything was all well in our little planet... or so I thought.

      So let's fast forward to my high school graduation day. My mom threw me a party after the graduation ceremony. Thankfully my uncle was NOT on the invite list and therefore no blow job scandals developed to ruin my celebration. Anyhoo, a few months later, I was off to college.  My mom could not have been more proud. I would be the first in my family to go to university. My entire family packed my stuff and we drove five hours from Queens, New York to Baltimore, Maryland and as we pulled into the parking lot of my new dorm, I remember thinking "Oh shit! I hate this place." I quickly pushed those ideas out of my head , chalked it up to nerves and put on a happy face. 

      I attended freshman orientation weekend and I met some cool folks. To be more specific, I met lesbians... southern lesbians....how exotic! However my new southern lesbo friends did not hold my attention long. To make a long and very convoluted story short, the first four months of my freshman college career I came down with severe depression because I was super homesick. On top of being homesick, I caught the flu and was bedridden for a month. Then we found out that the health department closed down all the campus cafeterias because they found traces of fecal matter and other rodents in the food in storage facilities.... awesome.  The straw that broke my back was when I walked in on my girlfriend eating out another girl one day when I came back from class early. Needless to say, Morgan State was not living up to my 8th grade fantasy. I hated that place and it seemed to hate me too! So what does one tough girl from Queens do after all that emotional and situational drama?  She calls her mommy (I came out of the closet during that call...SURPRISE!) and begs to come home that's what! And that I did. I dropped out of school and ran back to New York on the first greyhound bus smokin'.  

     Thankfully, my college career did not stop there. For some reason I did not learn my lesson and went to the very next school that accepted my application. I dragged my sorry butt to Marymount College in Tarrytown, NY. But somehow while filling out all the mountains of transfer application paperwork,  I somehow missed the fact that Marymount College was an all women's college... shit!  I'm sure you are all thinking this is a good thing right?  Similar to be kid in a candy store,  or a chunky person being left alone in a pastry shop or a lesbian being sent to a minimum security jail...But that was sooooo wrong! It was awful! All these women were so homophobic. But the most surprising thing was that there weren't even any feminists on campus.  I  though at least there would be some topless feminist chicks that would scream for Women's rights at the random college demonstration. (You know there is always a topless feminist at a protest.)  Nope! These girls were so overly hetero it was nauseating. 

      I mistakenly went to some study groups metaphorically waving my rainbow flag in every ones face in hopes of getting some attention, good conversation or at the very least a drunken kiss but all I got was fewer study group invitations. I, of course, didn't stop there. Your not-so-humble author signed up for the woman's softball team. My thinking was that there has to be lesbo's on the softball team.... right?  Bzzzzzzz...wrong again! The only girl on girl action I found on that team was when the whole team bonded over their hatred for my black ass! These were some racist heffas. I remember they intentionally tried to hit me with the ball during batting practice . I'm sure this had nothing to do with my less than adequate batting skills. No...couldn't be that, they were just racist. 

      My lesbo search began to feel hopeless and eventually I stopped searching. Surprisingly enough,  around that very time my grades miraculously improved. Any correlation? Nah.  But just when all else failed, the softball coach introduced me to another gay student.  Eureka ...right?  Wrong again! Unbeknownst to me, this girl was two days out a mental hospital and was so emotionally sensitive that she would freak out if she heard loud noises. Well it's a good thing I didn't know that then because I wouldn't have invited her to dinner with me and my home girls.  I wouldn't exactly describe my home girls as "mean" per se but let's just say that if I was fresh out of the mental hospital the last thing I would do was go out to dinner with them. It was like dining with the leaders of Palestine and Israel at one table... yeah, it was that bad. I knew going in they both came from different worlds but  I thought at the very least the conversation would be interesting . Well I was right about that.  Dinner became super interesting when this girl began crying spontaneously every couple of minutes while my home girls laughed and pointed.  Yup they actually pointed at her. Dinner was a disaster! I guess diplomatic work was not my forte and when we got back to school the word spread that I brought this fragile girl in front of my firing squad of friends and yours truly was officially annexed out of social circle of the college. Admittedly the social circle had the circumference of a single pea but I was certainly booted out and next semester I transferred out...again. 

     And no, in case you were wondering, I did not research any schools and went to the first school that excepted my colorful application. The next spring, Long Island University (C.W. Post campus) was graced by my presence. This was my third college and boy oh boy did I have fun. In the two years I was a student at "Post", as we called it,  I made tons of friends, led an intervention for my roommate who was addicted to speed and ecstasy, convinced a girl to date me even though she had never dated women before and became the president of the LGBT group on campus . I was busy busy busy and I even had time to go to class . My grades were okay but who had time for class? I was officially a co-ed! I even managed to join a little crew. We were a hodgepodge of miscreants that did traditional college things you know... watched movies, slept through class, took the midnight trips to Walmart, and ate everything in sight . I thought I had found the college I was destined to graduate from but Bzzzzz.....wrong again! I'll condense the events that led to me transferring the third time into one sentence. 

I got kicked out of the dorm because I left my 4- foot glass bong in my room over Christmas break.

This led to me being fired from my resident assistant position on campus. I was obviously totally embarrassed so packed up my stuff and left school with my tail between my legs.  

     I transferred again and before you ask, no, I did not research and I went to the first school that accepted me. This time it was SUNY University at Albany. However along with my bong I also had my girlfriend from C.W. Post with me. We moved upstate together and all was well until four months down the line when I dumped her for a cuter and slightly butcher girl. That situation was fun and full of drama because we were living in off-campus apartment at the time and I sort of moved the new girl in while my ex from C.W. Post was still there. Bad karma ...I know, but I was young, stupid, insensitive, and skinny which was a recipe for causing drama and heartache.

       I eventually graduated with a Bachelors of Arts from SUNY University at Albany. My college journey was super crazy, fun, ridiculous and it taught me sooooo much about life and bureaucracy.  I was and still am the first in my family to earn an actual college degree. My college graduation was a joyous occasion and my biological father came and even wore a suit. (I only ever see him wear Adidas track suits so it was an amazing day all around.) I dedicated my degree to my mother because without her I would not have survived all the craziness I got myself into. But the one thing I did learn from my college years was: 

Before you make decisions that will affect your life... do some self work on your spiritual foundation so that you can be honest about what environment will be the most productive for your academic and social success. 

BOOM... lesson learned!