Being in a lesbian relationship in your twenties is a riot (circa 2015).
I grew up in Jacksonville, and dated males most of my teen years. It wasn’t until my early twenties that I got the courage to peek around the fence, and I never really looked back. That means that in our gorgeous youth, we were out in the world, at parties, on dates, taking trips, and just existing as two women infatuated with one another.
A few years after I started dating women, I met Kelli. We’ll skip the middle part of our story, but eventually found ourselves in a committed relationship, doing all of the things that I just mentioned.
We got to that stage (and age) where people start asking if you’ll get married, and if you want to have kids. These moments went 1 of 2 ways.
Option 1. A completely mature conversation with like-minded individuals, genuinely curious, and naturally flowing from one topic to the next.
Option 2. Someone asks the question, triggering a slightly buzzy male that has been quietly ease-dropping to jump in and “volunteer” his services for conception.
Fast-forward 10 years and we’ve made it to the other side. Again, I’ll spare the details, but anyone who has been through the arduous fertility trek will tell you there are a lot of details.
Regardless, we’re here. Two Moms, two fertility journeys, two birth stories, and two remarkable little dudes.
This is what most people want to know.
Did you use the same donor?
Nope.
This is the most common question when anyone see the boys side-by-side, because the answer is so obvious.
Same-sex couples do a lot of unique things to try and share the experience the same way that cis male/female relationships do – think Sperm Russian roulette and a weird, invasive, egg toss.
We decided in the beginning, probably after one of those awkward party encounters, that we would use an anonymous donor. We wanted to choose from 100’s of profiles sorted by traits and genetic builds.
Our thought was to match each other in the donor’s we picked. Since I planned on conceiving first, we sat down together, paid a $50 fee to get full access to all the little snippets of the donor’s life, and prepared for hours of sorting. Thirty minutes later, we had it narrowed down to 3 potential donors.
We actually felt guilty for being able to make the decision so quickly, but as we started to add traits, the numbers continued to decrease to something much more manageable. We picked our donor’s hair and eye color, height range, body type, and scoured through family histories and voice interviews.
It was easy to start feeling connected to a donor when they had similar taste in music, or if they had hobbies that mirrored ours. It was easy to get attached.
What was never on our list of important traits for our soon-to-be kids, was a biological connection. The thought that there would be any separation created by differing donors has never been a concern.
It was also really gladdening to think about what our mixed features would create.
So no, our babies are not genetically related, but they are – without any doubt – brothers.
Did you both do IVF?
IVF is the Kleenex of the fertility world. People associate it as the brand of getting pregnant.
If you have ever been in a group of people and needed to ask for a tissue: Does anyone have a Kleenex?
It’s not wrong, we know what you mean, but there are other types. Cheaper, if we’re being honest.
K and I had very different experiences at our clinics, and I got to go first!
I conceived while we were living in Colorado, working with a phenomenal team that made everything seamless.
We chose to start with medicated IUI. I took something to help with PCOS, and minimal hormones to help my body get ready. Exactly 36 hours before my scheduled appointment, I was given a trigger shot.
On the morning of, they scooted us back to a room and took out the turkey baster. I sat with my hips raised for about 10 minutes and then we went on with our day.
It was well-communicated that the odds of success were higher after the first attempt, so we tried not to be too upset when it didn’t work.
After a month, we repeated the process and 14 days later we got our positive.
K’s journey started in Florida, at a clinic I wouldn’t recommend to my worst enemy. Despite having the textbook perfect circumstances in her body, IUI didn’t take the first or second time.
Adjustments were made, months were missed for hormone balance and sperm shipping delay. The third, fourth and fifth attempts all ended in negative tests.
Trying to get pregnant isn’t a linear process. It’s compounding. Each time you try, you pick up more weight. The weight of failure, the weight of missing a cycle, the weight of a false positive, and the weight of feeling like you have no control over your body.
After 5 attempts, and what was starting to feel like a crushing amount of emotional weight. We decided to move to IVF.
This is not only more invasive on the body and mind, but we did not have any benefits to help cover the extremely expensive process.
Given the option of purchasing a 1-time retrieval and transfer, or paying a few extra thousand to do as many transfers as we needed…because apparently BOGO deals exist when you are trying to grow your family, we put all of our money into 1 try.
Fortunately, that one wiggler gave us the beefiest brother for J and completed our little unit.
How similar was labor and delivery?
We both gave birth in a hospital, and we both opted for the epidural. That was the end of simularities.
I was at risk for preeclampsia, so the morning I started having contractions, I was admitted pretty immediately. J didn’t get the memo, because he waited almost 24 hours to join us.
Contractions were consistent and uncomfortable from the start. I tried all the positions, the yoga balls, the peanuts, warm bath, and tens unit.
For the first few hours, things were progressing really well. Then, after an hour of extremely painful contractions, and back labor, the nurse told me I had barely gained a cm.
Completely panicked, I asked for the epidural and was smooth sailing for a few hours after.
By the time I started to push, it wore off. I was able to stand, squat, cat cow, and fully move my body.
After pushing for 2 hours (while making loud feral noises), sweet baby J came into the world Sunny-side up, with the help of a very strong vacuum.
K is taller, and E was pretty happy using up every bit of available space to stretch and grow.
Every ultrasound told us he was growing. By 36 weeks, Drs were really pushing for an induction to avoid what they were completely certain would be a 10 lb baby.
We pushed back. K was amazing at moving throughout her own pregnancy, stretching in the mornings and at night. She didn’t feel great about kicking him out early and was adamant that she was okay.
Just before 40 weeks, we finally agreed and scheduled the induction.
E was not onboard with our decision, and refuted all attempts to get the ball rolling.
After some meds to soften things up, they attempted to break K’s water. Turns out, her cervix is really far back. They needed to use something I will refer to as a long tac; and still couldn’t confirm they had popped the bubble.
Pitocin was up next, but again baby E wouldn’t let things start progressing. A few hours later, the epidural sounded like a good idea, and K said goodbye to all feeling in her lower extremities for the remainder of labor and delivery.
I remember the way everyone’s face lit up when the nurse finally came in and let us know we made it to 10cm. She immediately followed that statement by letting us know we still had to wait for E to drop a bit.
When I tell you this boy was cuddled up in the ribs, I mean he wedged himself in there. He wasn’t ready to go anywhere.
After hoisting her up to sit, and continuing to wait, he managed to slip just low enough to start pushing.
Much less screaming (working epidurals are a true gift) and a few pushes later, a red-headed, less than 10 lb E popped into the world.
Both boys joined us in the middle of the night, an obvious pre-cursor for their sleep patterns.
Will y’all try for a girl?
If we pretend that we don’t need to take out a personal loan just for the chance to get pregnant again, the answer is still a strong no.
This is something that K and I agree on almost completely. The mental and physical challenges of getting pregnant, being pregnant, getting un-pregnant is not a rollercoaster we’re willing to get on again.
Our family is (currently) so complete with both boys. Once you get past the crazy amount of pee on everything, it’s a lot of sticky hugs and 24/7 band practice. Maybe we’ll foster one day, but a newborn, especially from these bodies, isn’t in the cards.
Lastly, we get to raise the boys that help change the world. The ones that advocate for human rights, who show feeling, and who associate strength and courage with men and women.
I know I can’t guarantee that last one, but those are the things they’ll grow up hearing.
