how to make the red soil seed ready?

the injector tending the easy earth...

Once again, the egg and the sperm failed to meet. So, we are not knocked up. The lessons I'm learning in all of this are that I am a pretty damn impatient person and I really want this.

We debated and contemplated and went back and forth with the idea of trying to get pregnant for quite some time, and now that we are in it, I am convinced that it is the next journey we are meant to carve out.

Problem is I need to devote as much patience and steady pace of mind to the process of trying to make the darn sugar patch as I did to the process of finally deciding to set off on the mission.

I guess this mystery of egg falling from tubes and sperm swimming steadfast against all odds seeking to bump into egg is a bigger one than I ever even began to think about. I try to venture into that unknown void of kk's female organs and it becomes one vast red space with lots of fluid swishing about. So then I try to think about it in more familiar terms--a strip of soil about to get all planted up, but it is not that easy.

See when I put seeds in the ground or in some soil up in our planting room, they are mostly going to rise up with some tending. If we water and make sure the sun falls over them, germination is practically a given.

A Zinnia in our garden grown from seed...

Not true with the dark, warm sloshy place of kk's vagina, uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes. The mystery of planting the goods that have the potential to bring a wee human into our breathing space is a lot more complicated than the steps involved in bringing to fruition my lush, full garden. While teenagers everywhere--the ones who seem to achieve pregnancy just from sitting on a toilet seat after their boyfriends--might have a different story about the ease of the mystery of human creation becoming reality, the two queer girls involved in this particular tale are now starting to see the mystery of furrowing the female body for the reception of bleachy seed as harder work than tilling a thousand acres for the reception of veggie seeds. While pursuing conception might not be all that much physical work (that mostly involves driving to retrieve the seed and then relying on the work of the don don's hands--or don don's boyfriend's hands--to ejaculate the seed), it is a hell of a lot of emotional work.

Growing beans

Contemplating the mystery of our internal anatomy is exhausting. Not to mention the defeat associated with wading in the aftermath of a letdown--the failure of the seed to take root after I so carefully injected into that soft lush ground. Cause really that's all I can do; plunge the syringe deep inside and let loose. I have no power here. I will just have to let the mystery be and pretend I am a good gardener without any seeds of my own.

Chicago #1

From July 4th through July 6th, we tried with all of our might to make a wee little baby. We includes K, the don don, his boyfriend and me. I must say that with my hesitancy to spend a whole week in chicago--going to chi-town for days on end was not boding well with my earth sign leanings--(which did not happen; I came home for 1 and a half days and leave again tomorrow until Wednesday evening), everything was much more pleasing than my negative thinking would have painted. so, fuck you the Secret--with a lame ass copyright inserted, I thought bad thoughts and good things happened!!!

We had a splendid time trying to get little kk all knocked up.



JULY 4
Pookah, K,and the injector waiting for the don don to call so we could go back to the apartment and inject the fresh little worms.

Day 1--July 4,2007. We arrived in Chicago around 4:30 Central time. The don don and his boyfriend (i will call him don don's boy) graciously welcomed us to their new apartment; they had just put down roots, not even a full week ago, in Chicago. K was feeling like she was super fertile,so the don don and the don don's boy went to business as we exited the premises.

we took the pookster on a sweet walk through the edgewater neighborhood. we found the stomping ground to be quite darling. Folks were having block parties and bbq's all over the place. the sun shone through the hazy mix of grill smoke and smoke bombs like a fading memory you want to capture before it vaporizes.

After quite a few minutes, not leading into an hour but more like one half of an hour, pour some sugar on me came blasting out of k's phone. Yes, pour some sugar on me is the don don's ring tone.

And that is what he had all caught up in an artichoke jar for us--some sugar. We made our way back to the apartment anxious for the jiz. The don don and the don don's boy exited the premises as we arrived. We went into their bedroom and k took off her panties. I sucked up the 3 CCs of sperm and shot it into her. And guess what? It all stayed. Not a bit slithered out. Her uterus and canal and all those other womanly parts sucked his sperm up into her like she needed internal lotion to lubricate her dry, dry self.

We were thrilled. The boys were thrilled. K lounged around for a long time and then we went and had a delicious dinner at the Chicago Diner.

Day 2--July 5, 2007



JULY 5
K's LH Surge finally appears on the sweet little stick.

We woke up and K peed on her stick for the i have no clue how manyth time.
And then a gleeful scream of jubilation expelled itself from her mouth. The smiley face had appeared.

we went to breakfast and enjoyed tasty, tasty food.

And then we landed back at the apartment and shortly thereafter left for a walk as the don don and the don don's boy filled up the jar again. Pour some sugar on me came blaring on the phone and we headed back for the fresh, life giving fluid sloshing its bleachy stained self around in a jar that once contained very oily and delicious artichoke hearts.

This time the boys stuck around as we went into the second bedroom and injected the 2 CCs of fluid up into kk. A little came spewing out this second time around, but most of it stuck. We had grown much more comfortable by this time and by the third time, which i will not go into detail about on the blog, we were in the apartment as don don jacked and don don and don don's boy stayed close by as we injected (Don don even went into the bathroom to collect some toilet paper--due to his boy being in the shower--so i could wipe the jiz up off kk cause it almost all came spewing back out the third day).

All in all, it the chicago injecting experience was fantastic--good friends, good times, good food.



don don, the injector, and k hangin' our feet from the pier at the beach after day 2 injection!

Happy Fucking Fourth of July

the injector with the syringe after the fact...
the sperm was jacked off in ann arbor and driven, by car, to ypsilanti.
this potential baby is a gas hog.


yes, the jar above held the jiz.


holding the syringe after it just expelled a 1.5 CCs of fluid into k's special place.

we've injected a total of six times now.
today we are heading to chicago to get more sperm.
i'm not happy about spending a week in chicago.
see i have to be there for work on Monday the 9th through Wednesday the 11th.
so, i will have spent a full seven days there if k's temperature does not go up before saturday.
the smiley face on the ovulation pee stick is still incognito, but k thinks she is fertile now, so we are off to burn more fuel to collect sperm from the don don who moved from 10 minutes down the road to 4.5 hours away.
who knows what the freeway will be like. I-94 during holiday traffic will be just fucking fabulous.
oh, see how positive i am. if i was following the teachings of the secret, i would say let's just stay home cause my negative energy has already corrupted the mission. but that shit is just that shit.
if we don't end up pregnant this time it will be all because of this rant on this blog--for sure.

Traffic jams, sperm, and spoiled fish

The third time

Oh, now I might be able to say—what a HOOT that was.

K decided she was mighty fertile on Monday (though none of her signs were present). So, she scheduled a sperm pick up. I ended up in the car with her—my bike on the trunk rack—due to a knee injury that is keeping me from biking round trip, ughh…

We decided to grab some fish from a market to make tacos before we picked up the sperm to make a baby. The don don said not to get there before 5:30, so we had five minutes to blow in the store. We swung by the don don’s and he handed off a too cold jar of jiz, which I promptly stuffed up my shirt next to my sweaty belly. Did I mention it got up into the low 90s on Monday—humidity 60% or higher.

Then the hell began. I had had a bad feeling about getting on the freeway to make our way home, but we did it regardless only to be instantly stopped by a long, long line of traffic. The radio said an accident was causing back ups. I had to pee when we got on the freeway and an hour later I still had to pee; we were still in traffic (though we had ventured off the freeway to find ourselves in another jam, cause everyone else had gotten off the freeway too); and we still had a baby food jar that once contained pureed sweet potatoes now full of potentially perishing sperm.

By the time we made it home I thought the fish that we were going to consume for dinner had spoiled and that the sperm had died along with my bladder.

We pulled into the driveway and I jumped out of the car while it was still moving to get a head start on running to the toilet. K threw the fish in the fridge (I was still very wary of swallowing it for dinner) and jetted up stairs. She took a leak and grabbed the orange syringe. I sat on the bed, undid the jar, and sucked up the bleachy liquid into the plastic injection contraption. 5 CCs this time—that’s a hell of a lot of jiz.

Once I shot it up into K, a little came spewing out. But there was so much I did not think it mattered.

All in all, this is getting to be humorous and tedious, scientific and common, difficult and easy.

no sugar patch--this month

Welp, the flow is on. K is not knocked up. She started her period exactly 30 minutes after me this hot June morning. Maybe our flowing together is a sign from some higher being cause the two of us have never been so tight on schedule. We rarely line up and when we do overlap we never start at the same time; it is still off by at least a day.

I'm thinking the first jiz didn't find the egglette cause we still needed my extra strong womanly side to appear and make fertile the ground for conception. Okay, maybe not, but starting our monthly wonder thirty minutes apart is very strange and if I believed in something mythical or real, I would say it means something.

So, since I am starting to believe in something again--something bigger than me and you, but not too big and not too powerful--I think maybe it is a wee sign of something about to be conceived.

Or, maybe not.

Urging her to pee on the stick

Yesterday, while I worked in the garden, K waited for the second line to appear on that strange plastic pregnancy stick in the bathroom upstairs. I kept shouting up, “Did it turn yet?” She kept shouting down, “No.”

I’m the one that was persistent in the asking—the asking her to pee on the stick before she even missed a period.

I guess I’m anxious. Not a bad kind of anxious, but a I want to know now cause if the period comes spotting out onto K’s underwear I will most likely not be there with her when it happens anxious. And I want to be there for her when the first disappointment surfaces, or maybe the better word for it is crashes out onto her panties.

When we first started I was more realistic about all of this. I know many people wait for years on end to finally get the sugar patch blooming in their uteri. But then the news came that our don don is heading straight out of town—he’s moving July 1. So now we have one more serious try time and then we will have to do it on the fly.

K is having a hard time determining her ovulation, so if this period does come then we will try everyday after it ends for ten days—injecting sperm like mad women. And then we will start the waiting all over again. Waiting to see if it takes or not.

The stick showed a negative, but it was done four days before her period is supposed to start so that means that the stick is only 54% accurate. Now the anxiousness is heavier than before, but like I said it is not a bad anxious; I’m still hanging onto giddy patience. Soon this all might be as common as taking a morning shit. But for now I will treasure the anxiety and patience and look forward to whatever comes next--a period, a sugar patch, a big dose of sperm--all of it is a gift.

Sugar Patch

Well, the waiting is tricky. Waiting to find out if the sperm has taken root requires a new kind of patience. I refer to it as giddy patience. I mean it is highly unlikely that after two doses of semen K is going to find herself all knocked up, so with that thought looming over our furrowed brows, we wait with giggles in our guts and a little nervousness. I’ve been referring to the possible sperm/ egg cell concoction as the sugar patch. I think of the potential fetus as sweet and mysterious--all the stuff that a nice candy treat is made of.

We will know in a few days if it took. If it did not K’s bleeding time will start up and then we will start all over again--with giddy patience guiding us through a most wonderful process. This creation of a sugar patch stuff is really quite nifty.