Wear shoes if you use my bathroom

Jesse and I recently had a loud, angry argument that tested the limits of our marriage.

It was about eye boogers. Elle's eye boogers to be exact.

A little while back Elle was brushing her teeth and she swallowed some spit a little funny. Ever since then she's become convinced that she's going to choke when she brushes her teeth. Hence, teeth brushing time has become a group effort with Jesse and I both trying to encourage/cajole/force her to brush her teeth.

So a few nights ago the three of us were in the bathroom. Elle and I were standing net to each other and Jesse was sitting on the floor. As we were going through the usual "Oh for fracks sake, just brush your teeth already!" routine Jesse picked an eye booger out of Elle's eye and put it on the bathroom rug!

Oh my god! Eye booger! On the rug! Where I stand with my bare feet when I get out of the shower! Eye booger!

Because I am a calm, rational adult I presented my concerns to Jesse in a calm, rational way.

My argument: "Gross! You just flung an eye booger onto the rug! That's so disgusting!"
Jesse's counter-argument: "I didn't fling it. I wiped it."
My counter-counter-argument: long befuddled silence
Jesse's counter-counter-counter argument: "You're saying I flung it and I didn't!"
My counter-counter-counter-counter argument: "Are you serious? That is the biggest missing of the point ever. I don't care how exactly the eye booger got there. I'm just upset that it's there. The bathroom rug is not a giant tissue for you to wipe things on!"
Jesse's counter-counter-counter-counter-counter argument: "You're the one who keeps saying I flung it! Don't say I flung it when I didn't!* And anyway, it was just a little piece."

And it just got worse from there.** We've been married almost 11 years now. Maybe we ought to be applauded for finding new and creative things to fight about. Or maybe Jesse should not be allowed within 20 feet of a bathroom rug.

*Apparently you can tell Jesse he's gross and disgusting but don't you dare say that he flings things.

**To be honest, there was already some tension brewing before this argument. Jesse had neglected to buy me anything for my birthday and I wasn't exactly a happy camper about the situation. I'm over it now.***

*** Well, I was over it until some friends of ours gave me a belated birthday present of two bottles of wine and Jesse dropped one of them. And he dropped it in such a way that it first hit the tail light of my car and broke it. No, I am not joking. I guess I should be glad he didn't pick up the glass shards of the bottle and grind them in my face. Best. Birthday. Ever!

One year ago today I didn't want to get the swine flu.
Two years ago today I took a picture of the tiniest spider ever.
Five years ago today I wanted candy.

Sorry, I can't respect you disrespecting me

The first time I was a surrogate my father-in-law and his wife (my step-mother-in-law?) were not exactly supportive of the whole endeavor. They were convinced that I was going to be emotionally devastated after the baby was born and I had to "give it up". This was pretty much the only topic of conversation between us every time I saw them for the entire time that I was pregnant.

I tried explaining that I didn't think of it as "giving the baby up" because it wasn't mine to give. I tried explaining that I didn't tie carrying a child to being a child's mother since I had not carried Joseph and he was mine. I tried explaining that I felt 100% confident in my ability to care for this child and nurture it while it was with me and then let go when the time came.

Nothing I said made a bit of difference. I always got the same answers. "Take care of yourself because this is going to be so hard on you." "Don't hold the baby after it's born because that will be too hard for you." "This is going to make you so sad!"

In the end I resigned myself to the fact that they simply couldn't understand where I was coming from and that I would probably never be able to make them understand my point of view. I figured I would prove it to them by not being emotionally wrecked after the baby was born.

Then Little A was born and it was so, so, so good. I was over the moon happy with the whole event. I was proud of myself and happy and excited and the whole thing really went beyond every expectation that I had. I mean, yes, there were rough spots because J was neurotic and he made me a little nuts at times but other than that it was all really positive.

At that point I figured any naysayers would have to take back their concerns. (And it wasn't just my in-laws, there have been a few others too. It's just that my in-laws have been the most vocal in their disagreement but that's partly because some people have stopped talking to us because of this but that's a whole different story.) After all, there could be no denying now that I had done the right thing. Surrogacy is a little unconventional but it was such a great thing for me and family. I think anyone who knows us, really knows us, sees how wonderful it has been for all of us.

Then I got pregnant again.

And what do you know? Second verse, same as the first. A little bit louder and a little bit worse.

"This is going to be so hard on you." "You'll be so sad when you have to give them up." "You can't be happy with how this ends!" "This will just leave you heart broken."

When we saw my father-in-law and step-mother-in-law for Christmas this was the main topic of conversation. It was beyond frustrating. It soon became clear to me that they weren't even listening to what I was saying because they were so focused on what they were saying. At one point my father-in-law said "You won't see the babies after they're born right? While you're in the hospital I mean?"

I replied that yes, I would see them and in fact that plan was for me to possibly nurse the babies while we were still in the hospital. His response? "You won't hold them though right?"

No. Someone else will stand across the room and hold them while I nurse them with my Go-Go-Gadget Boobs.

I guess it was that moment where I realized it was pointless to argue. I wasn't being listened to anyway so I took a nap.

As we were getting ready to leave my step-mother-in-law pulled me aside to warn me yet again how hard this was going to be on me. I guess I was losing my patience a little bit and I said (a little snappishly) that really, I was fine and I would be fine and that I knew what I was doing. She stiffened a little bit and said "Well then. I just hope you don't get a lot of stretch marks!"

Stretch marks? Really? That's your final warning? Stretch marks? A) It's not like I'm going around in a bikini real often anyway. Stretch marks aren't going to bother me all that much. B) Do you really think I would choose to be a "professional womb" if I was worried about stupid crap like stretch marks? C) You're just really determined that I regret this in some way, shape or form aren't you? If I'm not crying over the loss of the babies then I damned well better be crying over stretch marks.

I used to think that their lectures were coming from a place of genuine, albeit misguided, concern for me. Now, not so much. I don't know what it is but I suspect it's that they really don't agree with what I'm doing and they're using these "you'll be sorry" tactics to express that. I could be wrong but it seems to me like genuine concern doesn't usually take the form of ignoring what someone says, ignoring their past experiences and beating them over the head with your own biased and uninformed perceptions.

I don't expect everyone I know to be totally on board with what I'm doing here. I get it, you know? Surrogacy is unconventional. Surrogacy for a gay couple is even more unusual. I understand that people could have some issues or concerns. I don't agree with them but I get it.

If I can respect that other people might see things differently than me is it really so much to ask the same of them? Is it so much to ask that people don't try at every turn to make me feel bad about something that I feel so good about?

The only thing I'm feeling bad about now is my relationship with my in-laws and that's unfortunate for a variety of reasons but I really don't know how to fix it with this issue hanging over us. What to do, what to do?

One year ago today I was leaving on a jet plane.
Four years ago today Joseph skipped and it made me happy.

My new godson

The plan was simple. My friend Amanda was going to go into the hospital on Friday night to be prepped to be induced on Saturday morning. I would go to the hospital on Saturday morning to be her labor support (along with her husband (and my cousin) Matt).

Of course babies aren't so good with the whole "plan following" skill so I wasn't too terribly surprised when I got a text on Friday night that said "My water just broke!"

I got to the hospital as quickly as I could and by the time I got there Amanda was already pretty uncomfortable. Her contractions were coming pretty much one on top of the other. In spite of this she said that her plan we still to go epidural free.

Around midnight a nurse checked Amanda and said she was at 4 centimeters. Matt and I helped her get onto the birthing ball and she spent the next two hours there, gently rolling from side to side. Matt and I traded off positions, rubbing her back and holding her hand.

The next few hours are sort of a blur. All I know is that all those contractions coming so quickly certainly did their job. Less than six hours after her water broke Amanda told us she felt ready to push.

I was amazed. This was her first baby and not only was she in touch with her body enough to know when the big moment had arrived, she had also gotten to that point without an epidural. Other than a little moaning (and one tiny little "Fuck!") she was astoundingly composed and calm.

Amanda only pushed for a little over an hour. With each push I could see how much progress she was making. Even the nurse was impressed with how well she did. Sometimes she would have a break of up to five minutes between contractions and during those breaks she would rest. I don't think there has ever been a woman who was more serene than Amanda was during delivery.

When the baby was born his cord was around his neck but otherwise he was perfect. He cried loudly right away and was a beautiful shade of pink. I got to cut the cord (my hands were shaking so much that I was certain I was going to cut the doctor's finger off) and then took about a million pictures.

I felt like I was on a high after seeing that birth. It was so beautiful and everything went so smoothly. It was a huge privilege just to be a part of it. After Amanda and her new son were resting comfortably I headed home. Even though I didn't gotten any sleep during the night I wasn't able to rest. It's hard to fall asleep when you have a giant grin on your face.

Today Amanda and my gorgeous new godson* will come home from the hospital. I'm so happy for them and for Matt. I'm excited to see them start their new life as a family together.

I'm still walking on air over being able to be there when it all began.

*They asked me to be his godmother and I answered with the traditional response of "Ohmygodshutupyou'remakingmecry!" I blame the hormones surging through the room.

Two years ago today I had a killer headache.

Ten magical-ish years

Jesse,
Today is our ten year anniversary. The last decade has gone by so quickly. I remember our wedding day like it was yesterday.

Let's not let this anniversary go by without marking the occasion with something special. Here's what I have in mind.

After you get home from work let's go to Bed, Bath & Beyond to pick out a new bedspread for Joseph. Then let's head over to Menards to pick out a new light for his room and paint to match the new bedspread.

When we get home I'll throw my purse on the counter (almost knocking over the roses you sent me) and run into the bathroom to throw up. You'll eat some of the homemade salsa I made for you today.

After we get the kids put to bed I'll turn the lights down low and slip into something more comfortable. Maybe that tank top I bought from Old Navy that I wore once but then it stretched out so much that it became more of a see through tank dress than a tank top. Then I'll climb into bed and say what you've know I've been waiting to say all night.

"Sweetie? Can you bring me a piece of cake and then do my shots?"

After my shots are done and I've eaten my cake I'll fall asleep watching Golden Girls while sit on the couch and draft your fantasy football team. Later you'll come to bed and curl up with me but the peppers and onions from the homemade salsa will do their work and you'll pass gas. I'll yell at you and kick you out of bed. You'll go out and sleep on the couch until twenty minutes later when one or both of the kids wake us up by screaming about the fact that their blankets are crooked or some such crap.

Is it any wonder we've made it to ten years? We really know how to keep the magic alive.

Your loving pain in the ass wife,
Jen

One year ago today I was married for nine years.
Two years ago today the kids played with flashlights.
Three years ago today I named my living room.

It's good to have a brother

I was having a pretty crummy day a little while back and I found myself on Facebook talking it out with my brother. It was amazingly therapeutic. Especially this part of the conversation:

Ben: I hope everything sparkles for you.
Me: Aw! Ben! I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Ben: Really?
Me: Yes.
Ben: What about the time I hugged you really briefly at the airport.
Me: Yeah, and there was that one time you patted me on the back really quickly.
Ben: I think that time I was actually trying to punch you in the arm but I missed.

It's good to have a brother.

One year ago today I was interviewed for a magazine.
Three years ago today my children sprayed various liquids all over my house.
Four years ago today Joseph was poetic about vomit.

The manicure

Her voice was soft. "Is it weird for you?" And sad. "Knowing that I'm going to die?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and dark.

Was it weird? No. I had been to the funerals of old men and babies and everyone in between. Death wasn't weird for me. Everyone has to die sometime. Even if that person is my aunt, my friend, as close to me as a sister.

I found myself angry at the question. I had come over to do her nails that day not to discuss her death. I didn't want to be confronted with it like that. I bit my lip to keep from snapping at her in anger and for a long time the only sound was the soft whisper of the file as I smoothed away a rough spot on her thumbnail. I didn't know the right way to answer the question without letting on how upset I really was.

So I lied. "I don't know, not really. I guess I don't think about it that much." I didn't want to admit, even to myself, how often I thought about it.

And I told the truth. "When I think about it though I always think that somehow you'll get better. I know it's not logical or realistic but it's what I always think."

She nodded and then we quickly looked away from each other, both of us blinking back tears.

Five minutes later we had moved past the whole issue and had moved on to discussing reality tv, silly family gossip and memories of the times she had lived with my family.

We were laughing something or other when her husband came in to break things up. He decided I had been there long enough and that I should probably go so that my aunt could rest. I still had two nails left to do but I promised her I would come back soon and finish them.

Shortly after that her health took a turn for the worse. It seemed sort of silly to worry about her nails when she was so full of painkillers that she couldn't even respond to us when we asked her a question.

Less than two weeks after I gave her the manicure my aunt died. At the memorial service I looked into her coffin and saw that her nails were shiny and smooth. All but the two that I had promised her that I would do "later".

I'm still sad that I was never able to finish that manicure.