Day Three of Fourteen

Jenni says:

I am on the dreaded Two Week Wait (Tww). In a few hours I have to put a trigger shot in my wife's butt and then on Thursday, she starts her two week wait. I think surviving one wait is hard enough but when it includes yet another two weeks, it sounds downright impossible!!

So far I have had a lot of Guatemalan family rub my belly and make comments of "you both" when referring to me. I really appreciate their enthusiasm, but I really don't feel a bit different. Other than a cold, which I have decided to blame on the donor, even though I have no proof. (Long story short is there's a virus called CMV that 80% of people already have, but can be passed through bodily fluids. Many sperm banks test for CMV, even though most donors are positive for the antibodies. Our sperm bank didn't provide us with this info, so as CMV can cause cold-like symptoms and sore throat, I have decided the reason I suddenly feel like shit is the donor. Unfounded, but why not blame the anonymous one, eh!?)

Am I supposed to feel some "inner knowledge"? Or some weird twinge, weak elbow, fluttering sentiment? All in all I feel snotty and exactly the same. But it's been three days, and if I'm pregnant or not has nothing to do with me--consciously, I mean--so we just have to wait.

We're planning a trip to El Salvador for a beach break and a nice hotel stay. Unfortunately it's all inclusive and neither Anai or I will be able to drink our faces off. It's almost worth wishing to know early if I'm pregnant or not so I could wallow my sorrows in some vodka. But I don't pee on a test until May 10 and we go on May 3; so if I know by then it would only be via virtue of an early period.

Speaking of pregnancy tests, they are so bloody expensive here. 75Q, which, to put into perspective, we bought a pay as you go phone for 95Q today. Granted, that's about $12.50 for a pregnancy test, and $15.80 for a phone... ok, so that's cheap, but not for Guatemala standards haha. I suppose I should be happy that it's only $12 rather than bitching about it. ;)

Speaking about costs, our IUI with ultrasounds, donor, and doctor visits, runs about $700 per cycle. Anai, since she is on pills and a trigger shot, only adds $40 to that. I am very thankful that we are able to afford this without taking out a loan. It also makes me less worried about when/if I need a second cycle, as our budget is solid for a full six tries, three between us.

Other than waiting, and having a cold, and seeing lightning, and finishing a book, (The Heroes by John Abercrombie; I ate those 600 pages in no time) I'm just hoping Anai's appointment on Thursday goes well. Now to Google how to give someone a shot in the bum... :)

Our Favour

 

Anai Says:

This morning we went to the Doctors. On our last appointment, he postponed the procedure a day in order to time the insemination better. Dr. Salguero called it ‘Following the Spontaneous Cycle.’ To arrange a ride for early this morning, we stayed the night at my Aunt and Uncle’s house. We’ve stayed there before for something similar. Last time we were here, Jen braved going in to get her vision corrected.

Their house is so lovely and cute, and what I would love in a house. It has the same thing as ours; three bedrooms, two bathrooms. It’s smaller though and everything fits in nicely. Jenni and I shared a twin bed, which we are usually the best at. We are the queens of cuddles. The only flaw in the way we like to sleep is that there’s a lot of skin contact (what?! That’s a problem?!) Only in plus 30 degree Celsius and one-hundred-damn-percent humidity. 

Jen let out a half asleep grunt if I leaned too close to the middle of the bed.  I wanted her to be comfortable and relaxed but the mosquitos sensed her magnificent–childbearing-white-girl-blood and they feasted on the richness of her foreign and exotic substance (I woke up without a single bite.) We did not sleep too well or much at all. Our giddiness didn’t help either. Phrase of the night: Go to bed Jen.  

I wasn’t the one in the backless dress today. I was more of the hand holder and the inappropriate joke maker. I kept my cool on the last task and kept, the several new names for spunk that popped into my head, to myself. That head of mine was buzzing because of it all. These are our choices, our decisions and our actions. Yet, they do not always feel real. Maybe it was because my main task was hand-holder, and ‘sssht don’t take that picture’ girl, that it hasn’t sunk in. Perhaps, I am trying to let it take its time. We are entering, what I can only imagine is, a long two weeks as we wait for the results of this morning’s procedure.

We haven’t made a plan yet. If we can find them here, we might jump into doing an early pregnancy detection test.  Yet, they can give you both false-negatives and false-hope. We can wait until Jen’s blood test on the 11^th of May. Or just wait until Jen’s period is late and let the up-coming week might distract us a bit.

I am due for an appointment on Monday. Maybe that might quell our nervous excitement or add to it. I’ll be having an ultrasound and checking up how my follicles have grown and if the hormones I am taking will result in a few more percentage points in our favour. If I’m lucky we will be setting a date for my insemination.  

There are so many things we can dwell on while we wait for Jen’s pee stick day. Stats being a part of each of those things. Straight from the man that crutches his own numbers, Dr. Rodrigo Salguero says with each attempt to get pregnant we were looking at 25-30%. It's hard to visualize what that is. I thought about it a while and made it into my own layman terms. 

 

Say I flip a coin and call tails. It spins up and then back down and it might land on tails. I will have been right and I've won. Good for me, except that I still have half those chances. I don't know if that's a bit bleak, optimistic, or just plain wrong (probably the latter) but either way it seems irrelevant.   Because there is no way of knowing if Jen or I will fall into the seventy percent or the lucky thirty.

Chances be damned because they yield no true result. In the end, when we are making our way back home the chances will have turned tables and will be on our side. With three attempts each, which is what we've budgeted our time for, leaves us at an 85% chance of conception. Not too shabby but way still too simpleton.  Conception and chances of pregnancy do not necessarily mean that there is a child.  I don't really want to live by the stats. I do not really want to let them rule me. I know Jenni feels the same.

She said something to me, in one of our many discussions about the chances. She said. If someone told you, you had 25% chances of winning the lottery there is no way you wouldn’t buy a ticket.

Another wonderful woman, my mother, said something along that line too. Everyone here has already won the lottery. The Doctor used 80 million spermies (yes, we call them that among other things) for Jenni’s insemination. One of those could very possibly be our child, just like one of them out of all those millions resulted in each of us.

The odds are there and they are really just numbers, none that can tell you what the next two week will be like, or the week after that. In the end, it’s not a numbers game. It’s a waiting one.

Boo. Hiss. Argh. Woot Woot.

 

Tomorrow is only a Day Away

Jenni says:

Tomorrow is the day! Going to the doctor, that is. I have been diligently peeing on a stick and no ovulation yet, but my body is telling me that Saturday or Sunday might be the day, which would put me right on my "usual" schedule.

I'm not even sure what we will be doing at the clinic; some more ultrasound and wanding, I am sure. (oh joy.) I don't think tomorrow is THE day, because if I don't ovulate until Sunday that would mean the procedure would be Saturday and then I would start the two week wait to see if it worked.

Anai's grandma asked if I was nervous? No, because I don't think it's actually happening tomorrow! I'm a big procrastinator so I kind of feel like I'm procrastinating on being nervous too! But if it actually happens tomorrow, THE DAY then I will be nervous but I won't even have time for that.

For now, I'm just excited! More tomorrow :)

Making a Choice

Jenni says:

As our next appointments are Friday for me and Monday for Anai, we have been doing a little bit of lazing around. We discovered that we have access to Guatemalan Netflix and that it is far superior to Canadian Netflix. So as Anai's grandparents went into the city, we stayed in at their up-the-mountain house and did a whole lot of nothing. Which was awesome.

We did get one big thing done: we chose a donor.

A lot of people ask all sorts of questions when we tell them we are going to be using a donor. What will you be looking for? What attributes do you want? Will it be anonymous? Etcetera. The long story short for us, is we really don't care.

That might sound weird, but ultimately, we aren't into a "designer" choice. We have looked at donor profiles online before, and there is a huge variety of things that people seem interested in looking for. Many sperm banks even have options of purchasing the donor's baby picture, or buying an essay, or a sample of their voice; the list goes on. I suppose people may want to give those things to their children as a momento? But the reality is that it is coming from a company who is attempting to make money. You don't know if the essay, or the picture or even the voicenote is really what they say it is. Ultimately, if you choose an anonymous donor, you or your children won't be able to know who the donor is.

That being said, the clinic here in Guatemala certainly didn't give us many options--at least if we wanted to choose a local donor, which we did. There was no option to pay more money for an "Open I.D." donor (someone who donated and was willing to meet the child when they are older). The only choice was an anonymous donor. I felt a little relieved at that, because it was something that I wasn't sure of. Making that choice, to choose to have an anonymous donor, was something that I struggled with morally. I read some websites/forums from people who were donor-conceived, or who had used donors, and a reoccurring theme was sadness at not being able to find their paternal/maternal donor.

I do understand that not all people would feel that way, and it definitely doesn't mean our children will feel that way. But while I would prefer an anonymous donor for a lot of reasons, I still felt like I was taking away an option for my own personal reasons. I don't want to share my children with anyone (other than Anai of course) and that probably is a very selfish reason for wanting anonymous donors. So when this clinic didn't have an "open I.D" option--I was relieved that the decision was out of my hands. I don't know what would have happened if they had the option, I only know that this is what is available for us.

Since we need donor material for at least six tries, it also complicated the choice for a donor. We need six samples because even though we hope it works first time, if Anai were to get pregnant and not myself, for the second go around we would need the same donor for try number two, and so on. So the clinic gave us a small folder with donor profiles and told us to pick one we wanted, call them and they would tell us if there was six samples.

When I say small folder, I mean...very small. There were only four donor profiles to choose from. This was because we needed samples very soon (Friday) and their process for recruitment of donors included a six month quarantine period for any sample. The clinic runs their own sperm bank, but they have only been using this process since 2013, so it limited the number of samples that are available now, this week, immediately.

There was also an option to buy from a California sperm bank and have it shipped, but not only did it cost an extra $1000 US, it wasn't what we wanted. We wanted a Guatemalan donor, even if we were doing this in Canada, as we want that connection to Guatemala itself. We want that heritage for our children, so that when the tooth rat comes instead of a tooth fairy, it can be a part of their sense of self. (Ok, ok, tooth mouse, I don't think it's actually a rat. But even so, it's super cute.)

So here it is, the choice of a (hopeful) lifetime:

 

All we really know is the very basics. Eye colour, hair colour, height, weight. And that he apparently likes music, and is a university student. Or was at the time. I think that there could be a lot of ethical issues with how you choose, or why you choose, but really, when we think of it, we want to have kids. To do so, we need to choose a donor. I was happy it wasn't some sort of weird gambit where you fight it out with oh this one has a better education, but this one is taller. I liked that we chose what we did because we want a connection to Guatemala. Not because we want a certain ethnicity of a child, or with a certain hair colour, or eye colour. Because Anai was born here, and we want to embrace and love that culture, and we want our children to love it and know it.

 

I hope that we can bring them here often, and that they can see it the way we do right now. As a place that started a lot of things for our family. Anai's family is here, and without that, I wouldn't have met her. We're using a clinic here, and without it, we wouldn't be on this journey to having kids. I want our children to know that ultimately they were wanted (more than anything!!) that they're beautiful, and I hope they feel at home here in Guatemala and in Canada, and they get to enjoy the best of both worlds.

 

Home Coming LaLa!

Anai says:

It's only the second full day of being here and already lots has happened and happened quickly. Why was a complaining so much before?

I feel like I have come home, and have left home and am carting home next to me in the form of a shy Gringa wife. Either way we are very happy to be here. The Arrivals gate at the Guatemalan Airport always makes me feel so anxious and excited. You have to exit the airport before you see your loved ones. Outside there's an area roping eager family members off from crowding the exit and combing the faces is always so exhilarating.

Finding your faces makes your heart skip, it moves faster that you do and rips out of your chest before you can drop your bags. It beats you into the embrace and when you are finally in your families arms your heart falls back into place fuller than it was a moment ago. It's an unreal feeling that follows you as you hug, the whole crew.  And the whole crew was there. All my cousins, my aunts and my uncle. Three cars full of people waiting over an hour just to see your face one day sooner.

It was ten pm and by the time we got to my grandparents house I was emotional and beat. Seeing my grandparents, in their pyjamas, tired but ecstatic, it broke my seal. I teared up. I cried because my grandmother looked so much like my mom and I miss her so much already.  There was a lot of noise and a lot of excitement and a lot of people crammed into the a hallways since for whatever reason see decided it was best to hang out there. It was probably because it felt so good to be so close to one another again.

Jen was a tad overwhelmed. It isn't her first time experiencing the uproar. But I believe the immersion of Spanish was hitting her right when she was most tired. I was proud of her, she did not let it show. We rode in different cars up to my grandparents house and she told me how well she had done on her own.

Everyone slowly made their way home, reluctant to leave but visibly exhausted. My grandparents stayed up with us, chatting about our plans and our goals until early in the morning. The next morning, we slept in. Nice and cozy and rested, we got up and my grandma was excited to make us breakfast.

I can eat a million eggs in Guate, I can eat one a week in Canada. The eggs here are bright yellow and taste real. To me our pale eggs at home are not quite what they should be. Maybe a Canadian eating an egg here feels the exact opposite. I guess I should ask Jen. But man they are tasty, and my grandma knows how to make em' great. Served with freshly squeezed orange juice, it is a sign. We will be living the life.

After our meal, my grandma rushed us upstairs eager to give us a surprise. She had a Christmas gift bag full of hand made baby clothes, baby boots and baby blankets. All made by her, she admitted to starting the moment she heard that we were coming.

It's comforting to feel so much support. This isn't a medical vacation. It's a family one. It's theme is family ,starting one and reinforcing the bonds with the people I have here. My grandparents have been using the Duolingo App just like Jenni has. They are making the effort to communicate with her. It warms me more than the Guatemalan heat and more than my upcoming Clomid hot flashes will.

So it Begins

Jenni says:

Today we had our first appointment with the doctor! As always, it was a bit of a crazy ride getting there, but we were lucky to have our aunt Karla drive us there. She navigates the roads perfectly fine and didn't seem phased at all by all the honking and giant busses trying to squish into the same lane as us.

The building where the clinic is was very nice. To get access to the elevators, you had to sign in at the front desk to get a swipe card, and there was security visible at the entrances as well. We went up the elevator and found the clinic easily on the second floor. The clinic itself was also very nice and clean. The receptionists greeted us quickly, and had us fill out some forms. It was nice to see other patients waiting, as there had been some (probably well intentioned, but misguided) concerns raised by the family of what if they were just trying to rip us off, and didn't actually intend on helping us with pregnancy? I thought of a very old Law & Order episode with a sketchy fertility clinic...but this clinic was full of other patients, and we even saw a couple gushing over an ultrasound, and we overheard they had been to other clinics before finding success here. It put the mind at ease--it definitely didn't look like a clinic that was looking to scam some Canadian medical tourists. (Whew).

We got into the office pretty quickly, and had a weigh in for us both, with some hip and stomach measurements (unsure of why, but sure why not), as well as took our blood pressure. Karla came with us, and wanted to take pictures while we had the blood pressure sleeve on. Cute, but not getting posted here.

We met with the Doctor, Dr. Salguero, and I was pleased that he was willing to speak to us in English. I feel a little better about listening and understanding Spanish (except I never know if someone is asking a question or giving me a statement as it takes me so long to catch up to what I'm hearing), but I was happy to have him speak in English. He explained a lot that we already knew from our research, about the pros & cons of taking fertility medications vs. having a spontaneous cycle. Because my body decided that the earlier the better, I am already on day 9, so no medications for me. I'm fine with that, as I wanted to try once as a dry run anyway. Anai on the other hand is on day 3, so we decided that she should try the medications. They had previously mentioned Femara, but our health insurance at home won't cover that particular medication for fertility use, whereas Clomid is covered--even if we get it out of the country. So Anai got a prescription for it, and starts her round of 5 pills, 50mg each day for the next 5 days.

Next, we went for an ultrasound to see how everything was going. No one likes being in a backless dress, but Karla used the moment to take another picture, this time a picture of "I'm on a table about the get wanded." Also, not getting posted here, hah. My uterus was in great shape, and my follicles were of a good size, the dominant one being 11mm. The doctor said that 17mm is ideal size, and that they grow about 2mm per day, so if I ovulate on day 15/16 that puts me Friday/Saturday/Sunday. I have my appointment on Friday, and will be peeing on a stick hoping to get an LH surge. As a side note, we should have purchased our ovulation prediction sticks in Canada, as we had to pay $30 for 3 sticks, whereas in Canada we could get a pack of 10 for $40. Public documentation of "I told you so" to Anai! We're going to check Walmart here to see if we can get them cheaper.

Anai was also doing well, and will start her meds right away and her appointment is on next Monday. Dr. Salguero was very clear with what he was saying, when to start things, when to come in. He gave us his cell phone number and told us to call if I get an LH surge before the appointment on Friday. Next, he told us that we could pick up the donor profiles and choose one of them either here at the clinic or take the profiles home and just call in with which one we wanted. We paid for our appointment(s) which was 1,080Q, $180 Canadian dollars, which included the $30 ripoff for the LH surge predictor sticks.

I felt comfortable at the clinic--except for the backless dress and circumstances of course--but everyone was friendly and it seemed very professional. I was very thankful that Karla came with us, not only for moral support but also for the assertion that it all wasn't just a rip off, or some weird scam. She said the doctor seemed very nice as well. They didn't bat an eye that Anai and I were together, that we wanted to use the same donor, that we were both getting pregnant at the same time. Overall, it all feels a lot more real. I'm excited, and I hope that even if this is a "dry run" of one good try, for me, and an all out go for Anai, that it goes well and that there is minimal time in the backless dress, even if it was 29 degrees with 100% humidity today.

Grease me up and call me Sally

Jenni says:

As a sort of unrelated sidenote to the fact that our first visit to the doctor is less than 12 hours away (!!);

If you're thinking of buying this:

 

 

thinking it's a nice spray lotion, don't. It is, in fact, oil in a can. And on the can, from my oily hands. And all over me. Anai's grandma was dabbing me with toilet paper a few minutes ago. Nothing like being a glowing, moist, oily lady to keep your mind off the nervousness.

Now to slip into bed--literally--and wait for tomorrow. I hope the giant spider we saw earlier doesn't add some salt and vinegar to me and enjoy a tasty midnight snack.

Are we there yet? Or what happens when you write on a plane.

Anai says (while in cursing altitude)

 

Through extensive use of Google, Jenni and I were able to get in contact with a Fertility Clinic in Guatemala. The first one I attempted to contact, I had had a conversation with via email a few years ago; two, I think. It seemed quite nice and catered mostly to people abroad wanting IVF or IUI. Their website even suggested a week was all it took to get the job done. They basically partnered up with your current fertility doctor and your own constant egg drop monitoring and got the job done like in and out. (sounds like the regular process, no?)

I tried to speak to them again this time around, but I found that their site had not been updated for quite some time and their last tweet was ancient. Yet, we still tried to get a hold of them. Calling them directly resulted in a panic attack. Reaching our first option, resulted a confusing phone called to a foreign bank. We were thwarted and frustrated. It was misdirected angst since finding another doctor did not take us too too long. The internet is a wonderful place, and even though we had to now navigate in Spanish, we found one.

Nervous about the language barrier but desperate to secure a doctor, I called right away. It was four months before we even planned on arriving. The receptionist made it sound like I could come down the next morning. She even transferred me directly to the Doctor who gave me the whole low down.

My Spanish got me through well enough since all the medical jargon is pretty much the same word. Insemination versus inseminacion. The Doctor did not falter when I mentioned that both my wife and I wanted to the do procedure and he even made me feel comfortable enough to explain why we wanted to go about starting our family this way.

It was a nice conversation. I hung up the phone well informed and happy with the result. I hung up the phone having taken the first official step from just talking about it to planning it to even putting it into action.

We’ve corresponded since the clinic ever since. Happily ever after. Last on my do to list yesterday as we left home was to give them a final phone call. The appointment is officially book for both of us this coming Monday at 11:30 in the am.

It’s exciting but also a bit strange. Everything feels like the first step.

Packing, first step check.

Leaving work, the adventure begins.

Saying goodbye to the dogdog and family, not ready, set, go!

Arriving at the departures, introduction.

Going through customs, security, getting on the plane, layover, next plane and landing, this is where it all began.

It all always just feels like the start. I know that it all is but wasn’t the phone call to the clinic the start? Wasn’t the first conversation about it all the beginning too?

The anticipation is killing me. When is part two? Will it be at the clinic or will that just be what this is? It feels like we are opening the door to the room we are already in. Maybe it’s the anticipation, or the altitude or mostly likely because I didn’t get to sit next to Jen (and wasn’t given a complimentary snack) but I do not feel like I have not passed go even though I keep rolling the die.

It’s not a bad thing, but it certainly derailed my post and speaking of derailed what will happen when it all finally goes forward. When will that be and can it be this Monday at noon?

The Big Stuff

Jenni says:

Don't sweat the small stuff so I guess it's ok if I sweat the big stuff, right?

I am a self admitted complete worry-wart. I stress about everything and anything, especially when I'm lying comfortable as big spoon and trying to sleep. I don't really know when it started, but I've always been able to catastrophize almost anything at the drop of a hat. So when I suggested we write about our biggest fears and greatest excitements, I told myself I better not spend the whole time writing about all my fears (what if my feet swell so much I can't buy shoes? What if we have children who hate doing all the things I like doing? What if I didn't pack enough underwear?) etc. Too late for that last one as we are sitting at the gate waiting for our first leg of the trip to Houston, then on to Guatemala.

But my worries are similar to Anai's: the nature of us trying to have kids means that we don't have the luxury of saying "Surprise! We are pregnant!" It also means that instead of waiting 2, 4, 6 weeks to let people know, we might be a few days pregnant. It also means that people will be asking "did it work?" and it might be sad or hard to say no, it didn't. I keep trying to tell myself that 'what if's' aren't something to worry about, but my 3am brain doesn't listen.

I think, though, my biggest, number one, sleep deprivation-causing worry is that I really suck at speaking Spanish. Yeah, I know, this is about baby making, but that part doesn't quite feel real yet. (I say as I sit in an airport...) I have trouble imagining a baby, or two, or it working at all, or what the clinic will be like, or what I will feel finding out if it didn't work... but about five minutes ago a border guard spoke to Anai in Spanish and I felt like a deer in headlights. Ask me to do anything else, but Spanish words coming out of my mouth is akin to public speaking. Naked. On fire. Covered in wasps.

I want so badly to express myself but my vocabulary is that of a two year old. Meeting Anai's family again, I want to be included and talk and chat and at least say the basics, but my panic kicks in and I just can't make words come out, even the fifteen of them that I actually know. So yes, I worry about success rates, and multiples, and health concerns, and safety concerns, but dammit I hate learning languages. Here's hoping some immersion therapy will help.

My biggest excitement is for spending two and a half glorious months with my wife. It's difficult to remember the last time we had this much time with each other without work to get in between. (see previous note of "I stress about everything"; and a huge part of that is that I get very worked up about my job.) I am so excited to have time off, and to spend it with Anai and spending time with her family. I'm excited to get to know them better, despite my kindergarten Spanish level. I'm excited to be moving forward, and taking charge of our lives.

That first step is the hardest and I am so excited to be sitting here and actually doing something, even if we're just waiting for a flight. We've always talked about starting a family and that first step was a doozy. Whatever the outcome, we know we tried, and tried hard.

And I'm also excited to drink some tequila. Better get going, as our first doctor's appointment is Monday! Larulo!

A Most Post

Anaí says:

 

As a departure entry Jenni suggested we talk about what we are most nervous for and what we are most excited for. I agreed, hence intro sentence, and then rolled over and fell asleep. Yes, I do fall asleep that quickly; I assume most little spoons do. We did not discuss it again until now in the car when I said I would start the entry. We are on the way to my sister’s where we will be staying the night before our flight.

I’m in the passenger seat, because this little spoon also isn’t the best driver, or the big spoon is too much of a worry wart. Either way, I am by default the first to admit my fears and shout my enthusiasms. It’s been a few days since Jenni mentioned we should write this post, however somewhere in the whirlwind of laundry, packing and making sure the dog has enough meds, we haven’t discussed it amongst ourselves.

These are usually the things we always discuss. Yes, usually always. The usually is only in there because I don’t know what Big Spoon is most afraid of or if her fears match up with mine. Don’t get me wrong, I know what is making her nervous and what is making her look over to me and toss me a smile every half kilometer or so. It is just that we haven’t attached the word ‘most’ to any of our apprehensions. For whatever reason that matters a lot to me right now.

‘Most’ it feels like whatever her answer to that is the thing I have to work the hardest to prevent and take the longest time to enjoy. I can take a fair guess in saying that ‘most’ of Jenni’s excitement matches mine…. Making babies. GETTING BABIES… BRINING HOME THE BABIES. Of course.

But it is more than that really. Leading up to this entry I thought about it a lot throughout the days, mostly while in the shower and while slicing huge logs of provolone cheese on the meat slicer at work… because that’s my ‘me’ time.

It turns out that I have two sets of ‘most fears’ and two sets of ‘most excited’. One set pertaining to being in Guatemala and the other to our IUI treatments. I’ll start with Guate because I am so ecstatic to see my family. A piece of me lives in that part of the world. Although in recent years I have been back to visit quite often, I haven’t been back on my own. We have always done family trips and with that comes an amount of chaos that has made it hard to have real time to connect. I have been daydreaming about doing crafts and painting with my grandmother and playing cards with my grandfather. I have been wanting them to get to know the woman I married. This is our chance.

The downside is that, while I love Guatemala, its roads scare the living life out of me. Hate hate hate. We will be spending a lot of our so called vacation wedged in between chicken buses, daredevil motorcyclists and no concrete road rules. We have to keep our stress levels low during this process. Which may be difficult when we have to go through that every time we head to an appointment.

From one fear to the next. I am not even afraid of coming back home without a positive pee stick. However if the treatments don’t take, I don’t want to be struggling with our circumstances and have to watch everyone around us deflate when we break the news. We didn’t get pregnant. We would have to have this conversation over and over. To the point that I will more than once have to say, ‘No random friend of a friend, we are not having a child.’ The exchange itself will be awkward and difficult as Jen and I work to transition into Plan B. (Plan B to be discussed later, when I haven’t already rambled on).

It might be silly or irrational for that to be what takes the ‘most’ out of me. But there it is. I believe Jen and I can work with any outcome, therefore I fear very little of what may come our way. I am a firm believer in whatever happened happened. And I can only hope that what happens is our family. I want wave two pee sticks in the air and claim triumphantly that we are both pregnant. I’m most excited for that… yes, the pee stick thing.

In which things all began

So, you're doing what, exactly?

Jen here. There's always talk of a big plan, and in this case, we have an admittedly kind of crazy one.

Step One: waste spend your time looking at the local options, only to find out that they are way too expensive, and the wait times for us would be somewhere along the lines of 6 months to a year. Fun fact, we contacted them in 2014 and still have yet to even get a call back. Wallow in despair. As a sidenote, for anyone wondering, we are pursuing IUI rather than IVF, as we don't have any known fertility issues, other than being two ladies.

Step Two: begin to look at international options, and discover that Guatemala has everything we need. Research into the clinic tells us it is a part of the American Reproductive Society, or some voodoo, and the doctor at the clinic gives us prompt responses over the phone and via email. Rejoice!

Step Three: big decisions in the who and when department. We know that we both want to get pregnant and give birth, but it's a question of who first? We decide that we should both try at the same time. The reasons behind this are numerous: we would have a year off together for maternity leave, the kids will be similar in age (and half siblings), we won't have to decide who has to be "breadwinner" and who has to be "stay at home", and because we hope this is our only try. We are going to try three cycles of IUI each, six tries in total over 72 days, and if it results in two babies, awesome!! If it results in one, well, pretty rad! If it results in none, we live the lives of rich, early retired, world travellers with no kids. But seriously, the first one is my fingers-crossed-come-on-let-this-work option.

Step Four: come back to Canada and figure the rest out while we go! We are going to try and keep our minds open and try and have as much fun as possible during this process. While we might not be sipping mai tais ( or maybe non alcoholic ones) we will be on the beach and will be enjoying a full two months in Guatemala with family, and most importantly, with each other. Whether it works or not, we always know our bottom line is we are taking a huge step in the right direction.

Step Five: Start a blog instead of packing. Oh. Check!

Informal Introduction aka Making a Long Story Short (and Sweet)

Informal Introduction

There's two of us embarking on this journey; Wife and Wife. We are a team and the smallest size family you can have. She and I simply fell into being  that family. It was natural and easy and happened in what felt like an instant. Expanding from two to more has not been anything like that.

I do not think our situation is unique, but our solution seems to have become something along that line. Our story certainly is, as it hers and mine alone. We do, however wish to share it. So, it seemed fit  to together be involved in the cataloguing of the events waiting to unfold and the memories that have brought us to this point. 

You'll soon get to know us well. I'll be the one with the horrible grammar and too many passive sentences to count. My wife will be smart and witty with all the facts.

*Disclaimer: Always believe her over me. If you already know us, you already know this is true.

Either way this is a story as told by two very similar yet opposite women. It did not start today but is certainly taking an interesting turn. In a few days time we will be crossing the into the Southern Hemisphere to get some much needed vitamin D and some babies. 

This is the start of all that.