Last Call for Alcohol

I have entered into the 2am (okay, 1:59am BAR TIME) last call for alcohol hour; the last ditch effort on this god forsaken journey into fertility. Or not. I am all at once heartbroken, relieved, tentative and free. I am all of the emotions that are embodied in a giant "sigh"... if you will.

So here's the long and full story of what's to come. Frankly, something I've been dreading putting into writing for a long time now... but the time has essentially arrived and it's probably best to embrace the truth of our future versus imbibe copious amounts of beer, wine and tequila and deny that this is all happening. Oh wait... I think I meant to say simply "deny that this is all happening". The wine and tequila can stay, in consideration of that "misery loves company" bit.

So remember that Second String Womb? offer? Well... we're most likely going there. Let's face it, we *are* going there. And if I may digress for a bit, let me attempt to put this into perspective. I do not want to consider this quitting. I am not a quitter. I am a practical, if not a little strange, person. I am a practical and strange person who has donated no less than 17K into this "project" over the past 1.8 years all the while gas prices are skyrocketing, companies are cutting millions of jobs nation wide, there are people who are struggling to feed their families and stay above water; suffering. To put a finer point on it, George W. Bush has made a heaping pile of steaming shit out of this country and it's affecting everybody around me and I'm nonchalantly spending a grand + a month to squirt some strangers sperm into my broken ovaries. Sure, call me a bleeding heart liberal (cuz I basically am), call me somebody who is transferring, etc. but the point is, I feel guilty as hell! Yes, we are incredibly lucky and blessed in that we can afford this, but at what point do you pull the plug? Cut your losses? Accept Plan B? After 2 years, I guess. At least that's the answer we've mutually come to. And while Drake is older than shit (well... okay, she's only got 9 months on me! :)), she is in the best shape of her life and she's a perfectionist who always gets the job done right... and usually on the first time. She's a fixer. and I need this fixed. So, it makes sense to pass the baton and get this fucking job done. The goal is to have a child between us who will be equally ours, so it doesn't / shouldn't / DOESN'T matter if it's not of my own body or gene pool. The truth is I will probably love it even more if it isn't! Because it will of course, be less fucked up. Hell, if genetics have anything to do with it, it will be perfect! A perfect little miniature offspring of the love of my life. Who wouldn't want two?

So that's the deal. I'm done with the mind-fuck, the perfectly timed and portioned pineapple consumption, the pills, the psycho-somatic waddle, the roller-coaster, and the tired excuses. I'm going to pee freely without sticks or checking toilet paper! Yes... I'm going to live and piss freely!!!

As for the future of this blog, well, I'm still undecided. I may continue to chronicle this journey through Drake's eyes or I may have her do it herself. She's an incredible writer although she uses a LOT of REALLY big words! :) I'll get back to you on all that.