Insemination went fine ...

Hi! Well, after I charged out from school at a mad run, rushing to my car to hit 80 on the highway to get to the RE on time ... I got inseminated fine. I was still ticked at my boss (diarrhea of the mouth in front of 92 students promising something he just did not get), but I was able to SMILE. Maybe, just maybe, a wee one will come of this time.

However, in case one does not, here are my latest jewels ...

We go to injectables next time. Oooohhhh! What fun! Basically hyperstimulating, triggering, and inseminating on a much quicker, much more deliverable basis.

Now, I know. No one in her right mind should get excited about injectables, right? It's just that I am getting a bit discouraged by the lack of the IUIs to take. And since I am getting over the needle phobia, why not do it in a big way?

It reminds me of high school and the ASVAB. Let me tell you a story ... The ASVAB is the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, a series of tests designed to show the armed services what you would be good at if you worked for them. In high school, I was a rebellious child. (Echoes of sarcastic "Yeah, right!" are pounding away.) I was seriously considering joining the army or such for a few years to get the GI bill to go to college. So I took the ASVAB. And I knocked the socks off the sucker. (Who, me?) My lowest score was a measly 62 in mechanical, but I topped out at 99 (administrative), and 3 98s. Yeah, I was pumped. These were percentiles. I was basically better at mechanical junk than 61% of the other test-takers, most of whom were men and perhaps many of whom were mechanically inclined.

I got the call from the army recruiter who wanted to go over the report with me. So off I went to the recruiting station downtown (with my Mom's knowledge, God love her soul). I sat down and listened as the man extoled my virtues - or brains - telling me that out of everyone that entire month who had taken the test, I had scored the highest. (Of course.) He showed me all the jobs on the computer for which I was qualified to perform for the army. It was a long list! Yes! And there is paratrooper! I could jump out of airplanes! Then, he pushed another button and the list became markedly reduced.

He'd had to enter that I was female.

Back then, folks, women weren't allowed in combat positions. Still aren't in many cases. I was not permitted to have any job which required me to carry a handgun. (As an aside, this is the point where I tell you I am a crack shot, so good my own brothers forbid me from using the airgun because I was too deadly to the squirrels.) No gun? Why? And then I did what I always do ... I got mad. Are you telling me I can't be a paratrooper?

Man, I was ticked. So ticked I stormed out of that recruiting station and went home. I lit in to my mother about the unfairness of it all. It just wasn't right. Who were they to tell me I would be a great supply administrator? I wanted paratrooper and I was QUALIFIED to be one!

You see, I am a driven woman. I started out as one, only as a little girl. Swimming lessons, bullies, the bull, learning to read, I always pursued that which I wanted with a zest and eagerness that others could not imagine. There are no glass ceilings. I am a feminist raised by a feminist. While my brothers had restrictions, I had markedly few. And now the army was daring to tell me there was something I couldn't do? Of all the nerve.

So when that recruiter and the gentlemen from the other services called at my house, my mom was ready. No, I was not joining the (insert "navy"; "army"; "marines"; "air force"; "coast guard"). Until they let me jump out of airplanes, I was going to go to college. They could now leave ...

Well, I did go to college, as nauseum. It really is where I am at my best.

And the reason for this story? You see, I am terrified of heights. I knew it then. (It has a lot to do with falling off the roof when I was a child. Prickly roses, took hours to de-thorn my derriere.) And the solution was to address that fear. That's why I wanted paratrooper. I could conquer the fear. Well, bully for the army for doing that. It does have its good side, though. I look terrible in olive! And can you imagine me following orders? And I would have been correcting the grammar of sergeants ... good thing, huh?

SO ... like I was saying about the needle phobia (which is far more pervasive than the fear of heights), if I have to do injectables, it would be gone. Food for thought ....

Take care!

Random man

My little brother cracked me up when I told him I was TTCing as an SMC. He said, "So, the dad will be some random man?" I replied, "David, have I EVER done anything random?

After all, here I am, a driven woman by anyone's standards, getting my Ph. D. after being at the top of my profession, having bought a home before either brother purchased real estate, generally a go-getter, and I am accused of randomness? Yeah, right!

I do anal research. I have the ability to change my life radically to achieve what I want. (Take the Ph. D. as one example and the cholesterol issue as a second one.) Even my impulses aren't anyone's definition of impulse. After my layoff from the bank, I went to graduate school within 3 weeks. No one seems to remember I had already applied, had discussed the issue with the admission counselor at the school, and had been deciding for weeks when I was all-of-a-sudden laid off in a planned company firing. Purchasing my neat toy of a car ... no impulse there. I knew exactly what I was getting, having spent hours researching the car from the manufacturer's website to Edmund's and Consumer Reports. Yes, my thinking was a bit whimsical (who else would buy a periwinkle convertible with go-cart responsiveness?) but it was not an impulsive thing.

So why would I veer suddenly from my careful attitude to take a chance on a random man? I have selected a sperm donor so that I know the future for my child. No child-rearing issues, no subtle or direct attacks in court, no one questioning my parenting choices. I am not subject to diseases from a one-night stand and I can control the IQ of the donor I select -- if he doesn't have an IQ close to mine, he's out. All of my final picks had great IQs, good skin (no fair skins in the choices), height but not weight (no fatties allowed), and decent familial health histories (no alcoholics within 2 generations and no cancer). I also selected ID Disclosure donors in case my child would want future health information and to at least have an inkling of his/her heritage.

Like I would go random? Hmph. Just because I don't know his name does not mean I would ever attempt random. Random is sex in the backseat of a car after you just met on a dancefloor. Random is hooking up at a party. Random is picking a guy because he's cute. Nah, random is not for me.