The Good Ol' Spawn of Good Ol' Don
Children, gather 'round. Uncle Don has a story to tell...
Gail's had endometriosis on one ovary. She just recently had foot surgery to correct some toes. My fertility tests came back with near-failing grades. Needless to say, Gail and I have had our number of medical mishaps over the last couple of years. So much so that we've pretty much dismissed the possibility of ever conceiving our own genetic children.
With this in mind, roughly two weeks ago, Gail seriously approaches me about adoption, and, given that I've been of a slightly similar mindset for a while with all the problems we've had, the discussion was fairly short: yes.
The beginning of last week, Gail began doing research ... looking at the Better Business Bureau, trying to decide what adoption group we'd like to eventually work with, and eventually picks one with favorable standings and good testimonials. Gail contacts them, and immediately starts getting Gail Tunnel VisionTM.
By mid-week, Gail had already bookmarked a plethora of websites with new baby beds, blankets, room décor, and so on, and has already begun telling me I need to clean out the "Man-cave" (a.k.a. the computer room) in preparation for a nursery. At some point prior to this, Gail also has had the worst case of tenderness in her chest than she has ever had before. I dismissed it as stuff her body is prone to do naturally, and probably a reaction to her recent foot surgery.
On Wednesday, we receive a phone call back from the adoption agency, wanting to know what our requests for a baby were, in addition to our phenotype profiles (i.e., what Gail and I roughly look like, so that they can start matching us up with potential babies that won't look too different from us). The woman that spoke to Gail said that she'd send us the paperwork via 2-day delivery. We should expect it on Friday.
That night, Gail was getting my opinion on which of the bookmarked choices I liked for a baby bedroom set. We made the decisions, and I thought nothing more of it.
Over the next couple of days, I consulted my fellow co-workers as to their opinions, and was met with the same story at every turn: "I knew this couple who was having problems conceiving, and when they started the adoption process, that's when they got pregnant." But, Gail's problem is a lot more complicated than simple "we have problems conceiving," so I just laughed casually, and said, "yeah, that sounds like my luck."
Friday came and went: no adoption information.
Saturday morning: Gail wakes up sick. She is sick again at lunch time. I chalk these, too, up to complications as a result of the foot surgery. Gail's body, quite honestly, is weird.
Saturday afternoon: no adoption information.
Saturday night: Gail demands we go to Walgreen's to get pregnancy tests.
Sunday morning: Gail wakes up sick. ... She takes a pregnancy test.
Pregnant
"The 'not' must be broken on this one," Gail says. "I'll take a new one tomorrow."
Monday morning: She takes a pregnancy test.
Pregnant
Monday afternoon: the adoption information arrives via FedEx. Gail tosses it into the corner of the Man-Cave.
We had just ... officially ... become a statistic.
Friday, we saw Gail's OB/GYN ... the same one who performed Gail's endometriosis surgery. Our hopes and fears were all vindicated. It was officially official then. Gail thinks she (the doctor) was as surprised as we were. Though, since Gail's periods tend to be highly irregular (I wasn't kidding when I said that we have each had our share of medical difficulties), we got the range from 6 weeks to 10 weeks, with good reasons to believe everything in-between.
So, today, the wife of one of Gail's co-workers offered to let us into the MRI lab where she works and performed an ultrasound. We've got the pictures, but the scanner here doesn't work. We found one heartbeat, an embryo 27mm tall, which puts the conception at about 7 1/2 weeks ago ... right in the middle of me stressing out for finals week last semester, which makes the urge to name the child "Epsilon Delta Ford" tempting. However, I value my testicles remaining attached to my body, so I think I'll go with the names we've both picked out together.
Naturally, it's still too early to determine a gender, but for those of you "crafty" people, we would certainly appreciate any and all hand-made items you care to make/donate (home address certainly available upon super-secret double request).
We'll be due some time at the end of August/beginning of September (we had to cancel a trip to Walt Disney World with Gail's family, sadly) ... right between summer family reunions and my sister's, stahlschmidt's, wedding. Funny thing is, she apparently had a premonition/woman's intuition/"a feeling" that one of her bridesmaids was going to get pregnant before the wedding. Why do women get all the COOL powers? I just have the crappy ability to kill bugs and open pickle jars. Weak.
And, chennpug, it looks like we'll have to show off babies at the Covered Bridge Festival next year. Who can't use a playmate five or six states away? By the way... thanks for the wedding invitation, by the way. *glare* The Christmas card was the first I heard of it, especially since I haven't really been able to keep up with LJ lately. *double glare*
[Go with the grace of the Feared MacnYankochz baby.]
Gail's had endometriosis on one ovary. She just recently had foot surgery to correct some toes. My fertility tests came back with near-failing grades. Needless to say, Gail and I have had our number of medical mishaps over the last couple of years. So much so that we've pretty much dismissed the possibility of ever conceiving our own genetic children.
With this in mind, roughly two weeks ago, Gail seriously approaches me about adoption, and, given that I've been of a slightly similar mindset for a while with all the problems we've had, the discussion was fairly short: yes.
The beginning of last week, Gail began doing research ... looking at the Better Business Bureau, trying to decide what adoption group we'd like to eventually work with, and eventually picks one with favorable standings and good testimonials. Gail contacts them, and immediately starts getting Gail Tunnel VisionTM.
By mid-week, Gail had already bookmarked a plethora of websites with new baby beds, blankets, room décor, and so on, and has already begun telling me I need to clean out the "Man-cave" (a.k.a. the computer room) in preparation for a nursery. At some point prior to this, Gail also has had the worst case of tenderness in her chest than she has ever had before. I dismissed it as stuff her body is prone to do naturally, and probably a reaction to her recent foot surgery.
On Wednesday, we receive a phone call back from the adoption agency, wanting to know what our requests for a baby were, in addition to our phenotype profiles (i.e., what Gail and I roughly look like, so that they can start matching us up with potential babies that won't look too different from us). The woman that spoke to Gail said that she'd send us the paperwork via 2-day delivery. We should expect it on Friday.
That night, Gail was getting my opinion on which of the bookmarked choices I liked for a baby bedroom set. We made the decisions, and I thought nothing more of it.
Over the next couple of days, I consulted my fellow co-workers as to their opinions, and was met with the same story at every turn: "I knew this couple who was having problems conceiving, and when they started the adoption process, that's when they got pregnant." But, Gail's problem is a lot more complicated than simple "we have problems conceiving," so I just laughed casually, and said, "yeah, that sounds like my luck."
Friday came and went: no adoption information.
Saturday morning: Gail wakes up sick. She is sick again at lunch time. I chalk these, too, up to complications as a result of the foot surgery. Gail's body, quite honestly, is weird.
Saturday afternoon: no adoption information.
Saturday night: Gail demands we go to Walgreen's to get pregnancy tests.
Sunday morning: Gail wakes up sick. ... She takes a pregnancy test.
Pregnant
"The 'not' must be broken on this one," Gail says. "I'll take a new one tomorrow."
Monday morning: She takes a pregnancy test.
Pregnant
Monday afternoon: the adoption information arrives via FedEx. Gail tosses it into the corner of the Man-Cave.
We had just ... officially ... become a statistic.
Friday, we saw Gail's OB/GYN ... the same one who performed Gail's endometriosis surgery. Our hopes and fears were all vindicated. It was officially official then. Gail thinks she (the doctor) was as surprised as we were. Though, since Gail's periods tend to be highly irregular (I wasn't kidding when I said that we have each had our share of medical difficulties), we got the range from 6 weeks to 10 weeks, with good reasons to believe everything in-between.
So, today, the wife of one of Gail's co-workers offered to let us into the MRI lab where she works and performed an ultrasound. We've got the pictures, but the scanner here doesn't work. We found one heartbeat, an embryo 27mm tall, which puts the conception at about 7 1/2 weeks ago ... right in the middle of me stressing out for finals week last semester, which makes the urge to name the child "Epsilon Delta Ford" tempting. However, I value my testicles remaining attached to my body, so I think I'll go with the names we've both picked out together.
Naturally, it's still too early to determine a gender, but for those of you "crafty" people, we would certainly appreciate any and all hand-made items you care to make/donate (home address certainly available upon super-secret double request).
We'll be due some time at the end of August/beginning of September (we had to cancel a trip to Walt Disney World with Gail's family, sadly) ... right between summer family reunions and my sister's, stahlschmidt's, wedding. Funny thing is, she apparently had a premonition/woman's intuition/"a feeling" that one of her bridesmaids was going to get pregnant before the wedding. Why do women get all the COOL powers? I just have the crappy ability to kill bugs and open pickle jars. Weak.
And, chennpug, it looks like we'll have to show off babies at the Covered Bridge Festival next year. Who can't use a playmate five or six states away? By the way... thanks for the wedding invitation, by the way. *glare* The Christmas card was the first I heard of it, especially since I haven't really been able to keep up with LJ lately. *double glare*
[Go with the grace of the Feared MacnYankochz baby.]