Hope & Hopscotch

The Screening Tests

PersonalSaeComment

January 2015.

I'm on the Victoria line tube, and it's filled with ordinary Londoners doing ordinary things. I feel different, and outside of their ordinariness.

I'm ahead of myself. Zee and I are on our way back from our screening appointment. (Prepare yourself for TMI....) I got my period today, and I was both relieved and sad. Relieved because its come before the appointment and I can put off all the things till next month. The big scary future not-yet-babies things. Sad because it meant I'd have to wait till next month to do a round of IVF and start The Plan. Anticipation, worry and fear do not go well with months of free time in which to dwell.

I met Zee at the clinic, his first time there. I could see immediately that things were becoming much more real for him... That it was one thing to talk about it on the couch while we watch tv and another to be standing in the clinic reception ready to get on with it.

First up, a semen analysis... It was crazy to see his little sperm wriggle around (at x50 magnification), funny little organisms with no brain but looking very much like independent little beings as they wriggled about. It felt very bizarre and a bit teary, all those not-babies. I very quickly realised I was getting teary over sperm and pulled myself together (also: period. Go figure).

The Dr man who did the analysis was quite funny. He went out of his way to tell stories and set us at ease. He also said that the sperm was good, good sperm. Lots of active little wrigglers. That's good.

Bloods after, for both of us. It was late and the lab was a dark and cold. Three vials, a teaspoon of blood on each to make sure we were all happy and healthy and disease free.

And then we found out that actually, despite what I thought, it can start IVF this round. Tomorrow.

I was shocked and felt my future surging forward. Oh fuck. Fuuuck. Okay. Okay, calm, this is alright. We're just freezing some embryos. We're just giving ourselves some time, this is our plan b. No need to freak out about injecting yourself with hormones and creating frozen not-yet-babies. Calm. Down.

What got scary was the consent forms... It felt like a massive thing. We spent two hours reading forms so we could agree, legally, what should happen to our unborn embryos in the events of death or disagreement. It was a commitment as big and forever as marriage without the big dress, witnesses and a party... I read all the long, often morbid and scary terms out loud, and we agreed. We're doing this.

Everything feels much more real now, but also more clear, slightly less scary. We're doing this. I'm determined and even though I'm not yet 100% aligned with the changes that will come with parenting a small child right this moment, I know what I want and I'm making it happen.

Alright future, come at me.