I’ve gotten the second interview at Planned Parenthood, and therefore, I’m pretty certain I’ve got a shot at the job. Dana and I were a tiny bit baby crazy before we started talking about Planned Parenthood on a daily basis, and now that we have, we are biological clock explosion hazards. It’s ridiculous, but in a completely serious kind of way. Like, in the moment, we are so focused on each other and these little lives that we want to create that it seems just as real as say, the cat who lives on our stereo. When the ether has cleared from our brains, we realize that we have a bit to do before we can start inseminating. We may be dreaming, but some of the most tender moments between Dana and I have come with us curled up on our bed, reading about what we need to do to get ready.
If I were you, I’d be sitting there thinking, “what the fuck are they doing? They’re not even married. They haven’t even been dating that long. Seriously, are they INSANE?” Yes. Yes we are. My drive to have a baby isn’t rooted in reality anymore. It is rooted in the same baby-crazed feeling that I went through when I was 24. There was no rhyme or reason, just this drive to procreate that outweighed anything else going on in my life. The reason I know that we have crossed over from merely talking about one day having a child to that special part of my brain turning me into a stark raving lunatic is that physically, I am TICKIN! TICKIN! TICKIN! I am sexually insatiable- my body has no idea that Dana’s sperm count is so low. It feels similar to that hormonal rush of “QUICK, I’M GOING TO LOSE THE EGG!” that every woman has the night or two before her period… except this has lasted much, much longer.
And while that sounds wild and crazy and fabulous, I suppose the sex part is. The biological clock shit is rough stuff. My body does not realize what’s going on in my head, and it doesn’t really care. What my girly parts see is that This. Is. It. Dana is the fulfillment of whatever it is that uteruses need to just go batshit crazy. I sort of get it emotionally from the standpoint that relationships all go through three distinct phases. First, there’s romantic love. It’s giggly, sexy, and fun. Then, when you’ve been giggly and sexy for as long as you can take it, you develop companionate love- that part of you that doesn’t feel complete unless the other person is around. It’s not particularly sexy because discovery is over. Then, after a while, sex comes back into the picture and it’s soulful. You’ve got history together, you see so many more reasons to love each other than just the shallow initial attraction. You know what turns each other on and instead of it being a grind, it feels good to KNOW what’s going to get you a standing O… and when Dana and I got together, we skipped over phase one and two. We’d been friends for so long that we already had a companionate love that was putting our other friends and even our then-partners on the back burner.
So I see very clearly that my uterus has a different timeline than Dana and I do because my uterus doesn’t realize that for as long as I’ve loved and trusted Dana, being in love and having a kid is a different kind of love and trust.
Or is it?
Maybe my inability to differentiate is helping to feed the baby craziness. Sometimes my head and my heart are confused- have Dana and I been together almost three months or almost three years? Just because we weren’t having sex hasn’t meant that we weren’t having intimacy (which Harville Hendrix rightly called “into-me-see”). So where do I draw the boundary in that kind of knot to untangle? Ultimately, it’s our call, which will probably mean that we get married and have kids a lot sooner than anyone else thinks we should- not because we’re trying to be stark raving mad, although we’ll never stop being that. It’s because visually, we’ve only been a couple for a few months. The kind of intimacy that we share goes way, way, WAY beyond that.
There is one picture of Dana that I have in my head that I look back on and think, “how did I not know? How did I not know it would be this good? How did I not know that Dana didn’t love me, that she was in love with me and there was more of me in love with her than I would ever admit? How did I manage to keep our boundaries so strictly in place when if I’d just opened my eyes, I would have seen that we were falling for each other? How did I let everyone else know before I did?”
The picture is of Dana crying simply because someone else hurt me. It hurt her to see me cry, to see me upset, to not be able to magically take my pain away. And it’s more than that, even- because the person who hurt me was a piece of me. Dana knew that. She knew what I was trying to get away from in my hurt and it hurt her. She took on my pain and I let her, because I got the feeling that she understood the magnitude and wasn’t trying to tell me to calm down or even how to grieve. She was just this calming presence and I leaned into her. I can only hope that I am that calming presence when she needs it.
So it’s no wonder that my uterus is calling out to her. It’s no wonder that Dana is the fulfillment of all my little uterus nesting dreams. It feels like no matter what we decide or when we decide it, the love we have for each other will carry us through. So cliche, and yet, for the first time, it’s a cliche I can truly support.
So back to the interview.
Because I knew that I was signing up to be a database administrator in the same complex as the clinic, I asked if it had ever gotten scary around there. They told me they’d had a few bomb threats, but nothing serious (meaning actual bombs, I’m sure). They also had to be careful who they hire- they had one lady that came in for the interview before me and asked if that was where they killed the babies. She didn’t think she could do it.
Database administration is hard.