Tuesday, October 9, 2007
If It Feels So Right....
Sometimes, I freak myself out a little bit thinking too hard about the whole ART thing.
Have you ever seen Gattica? There's a scene in it where the parents of the protagonist are meeting with their geneticist to discuss their second son (their firstborn, the protagonist, was a product of a natural conception and birth - unheard of in the future!) the geneticist was mixing and cutting and pasting their genetic material via computer screen to minimize disease, maximize potential. The parents were pretty freaked out. As were we as we watched the scene and realized how similar it was to how we felt when we had the mandatory meeting with the geneticist in the previous weeks, drawing family trees and thinking back to any defects or disabilities anyone in our family may have had.
The whole concept of human intervention in the most sacred of acts, reproduction and conception does bother me if I let it.
But then I remember that human intervention was the reason that I'm going down this path in the first place and I'm like, "F*** you you F***ers. [to no one in particular] You OWE me. Big. Letting me borrow an egg or two is the LEAST you can do. "
I've had far too much time to think between our last canceled cycle and our next attempt (still waiting for an update. Call me! Dammit!) so these are where my thoughts stray.
But then we get paid a visit by some of our most favorite people in the world, who happen to bring their little 8 month old son in tow. This beautiful little thing is the product of IVF, after several failed attempts.
We babysat the little one while our pals went to a concert Saturday night. They were thrilled to have a "date." We were thrilled to see if we could actually manage a baby by ourselves.
We could. We did. We kicked a**.
Ok, so it wasn't as uneventful as our first babysitting attempt, but this one was much more fun. Sure, he woke up from his nap totally disoriented and bothered that his parents weren't around (I probably would have too), but we improvised, we entertained, we found a middle ground (no, we are not going to go for walks all night long, but we can hang out on this bench for a while since you seen to be so fascinated with cars). It was awesome.
So, the parents came home late that night and found their little one sleeping in the Pack-n-Play we borrowed from hubby's mom and us, glowing, because the apartment was still in one piece and we had gotten him there with minimum effort. We did it!
Spending the weekend with this sweet thing made us realize, yes, we can handle a baby ('cause, sometimes I do wonder if we romanticize this whole endeavor) and dammit, despite what I think about ART and IVF and all those male doctors in white coats, if they can make something like him happen, how can that be wrong?