Little Baby: BIG Stir

The anger and grief that I felt over Wednesday’s call from Chester has faded. It hit me so hard, though, partly because I think I was so discouraged that even after six years of being divorced, I still have to fight these petty and ridiculous battles with my sons’ father and partly because I’m now 13 weeks pregnant and kind-of a walking hot mess, anyway.

I know that this is an odd thing for my kids to adjust to, their mom being pregnant with someone else’s baby, but life is odd. Generally, I don’t care what other people think of me or of what I do with my life, but apparently, I care about how my kids feel.

I know that they will shift and modify their thoughts and beliefs in order to win their father’s favor. It's pretty typical approval seeking behavior.  If they have to tell me they’re embarrassed of me to make dad feel like he’s won the Biblical Battle, I’m at least glad they feel safe enough with me to say things to me that they know I’m not going to like. There is no punishment for sharing feelings; especially if the ones they share aren't really their own.  Chester would never come up with “The Bible says it’s wrong,” on his own because Chester’s never read the Bible. He was told  that being gay is wrong and therefore, had to tell me.  It's important for me to tell them how I feel, but not to tell them how to feel. 

I know that they actually feel OK with this because of the way they responded to us telling them. I also know that they may go up and down and feel good and bad at different times, but I expect that. I love that Chester initially went with his heart and was excited, because that shows me that they are getting the message that I am modeling with my choices; the message that love and family can be created in ways that are not scripted by perceived convention. If we are to evolve, somebody’s got to push it. 

Plus, now that the boys know, everyone else in my family and my circle of friends can show their support of this decision. I talked with my Mom at length about what to do to combat the hate. We agreed it’s best to kill it with kindness. My sons adore their Grandad and Tim, and with their strong support and enthusiasm, we can show them a different approach to life; one that’s not clouded by fear and full of judgment.

I never intended to make a social statement  with this decision; I just wanted to help my friends.  Their sexuality was a non-issue for me.  Ironically, at the center of this BIG stir, is this tiny, little baby. As it flutters around and grows stronger every day, it has no idea that in the outside world, we are all growing stronger and our capacity to love is getting bigger, and we are all going to be better people, because soon, he/she will be here.

Telling My Sons

Last night, Max and I went to the "First Trimester Class" at my new OB's office.  I think this is a great idea for new parents, and I thought that Max would get a lot out of it.  Turns out, it wasn't all that riveting, and we had a dinner date to get to, so we bugged out by 7:00pm.  Our dinner date was with my boys at the Spaghetti Factory.  It's our family restaurant of choice when there is something to celebrate.

Max and I were there when the boys arrived.  We had a very nice time.  The boys caught Max up on all of their big goings on and we played many rounds of tic-tac-toe while waiting for our dinners.  We even let them get refills on their sodas because it was a special night.

As the spumoni ice cream was being delivered, I said, "Well guys, tonight we're celebrating. Do have an idea why?"

"Because Survivor: Heroes Versus Villains comes on tomorrow?" Davis said.

"No.  Not that, but I admit that IS awesome," I said.  "Actually, we're celebrating because, you know how I've been trying all year to help Max and Bob have a family?"

"Yeah," they said in unison.

"Well, it worked.  Max and Bob are expecting a baby and it's in my belly growing right now."

There was a bit of stunned silence and Chet reached over and tried to pull my shirt up.  "In there?  You got a baby in there, Mom?"

"Max's baby, honey.  This is Max and Bob's baby.  I'm just carrying it for them." 

Davis hadn't said anything.  He was fixed on his ice cream, pushing it around the tiny metal cup with his spoon. 

"Davis, are you OK with this?  Do you have any questions?" I asked.

"Naw." He didn't look up.  It was a lot to process.  "I wasn't expecting that," he said.

I flipped a paper placemat over on the table and grabbed a crayon and drew stick figures, explaining how the donor cells and Max's cells were mixed together to make embryos.  Then I pulled out my phone and showed the boys a picture of the three dividing cells that the doctors put in my belly.  Finally, I showed them the recent ultrasound pictures and it became very real.  Davis was a little reluctant to look, but eventually came around.

"So, since Max and I are almost like brother and sister since we've grown up together, you guys will be like uncles to this baby," I said.

"I'm gonna call it 'Little Joe,'" said Davis. 

"You want to know what we're going to name the baby?" asked Max.  The boys nodded. "It's going to be named Davis.  Whether it's a girl or a boy, in honor of your mom, of your family, of some of our other friends named Davis.  We're going to call the baby Davis.  What do you think?"

"I'm still gonna call it 'Little Joe,'" said Davis.  We all chuckled.

With that, we wrapped up our evening and headed to our cars and said good night. All the way home, both boys talked about how cool it was that they were going to be uncles.  Chester was talking in a baby voice saying, "Oh I just wuv babies.  Their tiny feets and their witto toes and teeny hands.  I'm going to babysit and change its diapers and cuddle it and hold it." 

"Chester," I said.  "You know this baby isn't staying with us.  It's going to be with Max and Bob, right?"

"I know Mom, but I'm going to see it a lot," he said. 

When we got home it was time for bed.  I kissed both boys good night and both boys said, "Good night Little Joe," to my belly. 

In the morning, before leaving for school today, they kissed me goodbye and patted my tummy.  I was glad that they were embracing this, as we had been talking about it for a year now.  I was concerned with whether they'd still be on board once it worked. 

And then, the phone call after school.  Davis and Chet went to their dad's house today.  I told their dad a few months ago of my intentions to help Max and he was against it; another shining testimony to why I divorced him.  He got engaged recently and re-found Jesus.  Apparently, as I've heard from a few others too, Jesus doesn't like gay people.  My former spouse and his new fiance recently wrote me a very lengthy Nasty-gram which included this gem:

Your judgment comes into great question when you put your children's views and feelings aside to become a serrogate mother for two gay men. Your children were embarassed and mortified when they learned of your plans, which they came to us about.

Note: I left their spelling errors intact for this direct quote.  They are both working in or around the medical profession, so I think it's interesting to note that they do not know how to spell surrogate.  They went on to say that I have a personality disorder and that I need mental help. 

What do you think my sons are being fed at dad's house?  The phone rings at 4:15pm.

"Mom?" says Chet.  He's crying.

"Mom, I have to tell you that I think what you're doing is wrong.  You shouldn't do this.  Max and Bob's kid is going to get teased.  Mom, do you know how many people at school say 'gay?' like it's a bad thing?  Kids are going to tease me at school Mom!" he says between sobs. 

I have envisioned how the scene went down after school.  Chet went in, excited to tell his dad about the baby, and his dad squashed it with religious dogma and paranoid views.  It probably crushed Chet and he probably started crying and told his dad he doesn't think I should do it either.  They'll do anything to please their dad.

"And Mom, the Bible says it's wrong.  And also, you've been on hormones for a year Mom and you've been crazy for a year," he said. 

What could I say?  Here was my boy that I was so proud of for being such a loving, kind old soul, telling me he's ashamed of me now.  My sons are my whole life.  How they feel is all that matters to me and here he was, telling me he's embarrassed of me.  I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest.  Though I knew it was coming from their dad, it killed me to hear it and it breaks my heart knowing they're forced to think that way when they're there.  They live these two separate lives in their two houses.  It's infinitely sad.

"Chet, I'm sorry you feel that way.  This isn't how you felt last year and it isn't how you left the house this morning.  You were the one who really supported it.  All I can say is, you might not always agree with my choices, but they're mine to make.  I'm 38 and you are 9.  When you are 38, I may not like a few choices you make, but I will always love the person you are."

"But Mom, it's wrong!" he said, choking on his tears.

"Chet, I'm not going to talk about this on the phone anymore.  If you want to come to the house and talk to me, you can, but I'm not going to listen to this right now."

"K.   Bye." he said.

"Bye honey.  I love you."

I put the phone down and started to cry and I haven't stopped since. 

My mom called during my meltdown and said, "I'm so sorry honey that what he said hurt you, but this will happen again and again.  Kids are always going to break their parents' hearts."

There is no pain like the one you feel when your child says he's ashamed that you are his parent, especially when everything that you've ever done after he arrived on this planet was for him. 

He sent me a text a little while ago: "Sorry. I just wanted to get my feelings out and tell you how I feel."

My reply: "Don't apologize babe.  You can always share your feelings with me.  Feelings can sometimes change, too.  I feel like I made a decision from a place of love and care for my dear friend.  I love you and I believe in me, you, and us.  It will be OK no matter what, my boy.  You and Dae are my heart."

I did not know who I was before my sons.  Nothing was important before they arrived.  I do not know if I will ever be enough for my sons, but I continue to stay my course with the hope that one day they can see me the way I want them to see me.  I made a promise to myself to make big, life decisions only from a place of love, not fear; and that is what I'll continue to do. I can not fear how others will view this, even my own sons, because I love Max and he will be a great father.  I love that my sons get to be a part of creating a family that goes beyond genetics.  No matter what hurtful things my boys say to me, I know I'm a good mother and that they love me.

This deep saddness in my heart is raw right now, though I know time will heal. 

But time moves too slowly, sometimes.

Super Scare Today

At this moment, I’m sitting in my kitchen, waiting for my phone to ring. It’s 2:38pm on Friday. I just went to the bathroom and was shocked to find bright red blood in the toilet. My heart is racing. I called my new OB doctor’s office and spoke with the receptionist and told her what was going on. She said she’d have a nurse call me right away.

So I’m sitting here waiting and watching my phone and it rings and it comes up Bob Pittman. I can’t answer it. I look at it and I let it go to voicemail. My heart is beating faster now.

They still haven’t called me back and it’s now 2:44pm. Though it’s only been six minutes, I’m panicking. I wish I had an ultrasound machine in my home. I just want them to call me and tell me to get there right away.
I just listened to Bob’s message and he asked if he could send any beauty products with Max for next Tuesday’s First Trimester Class at the OB’s office. He has no idea that I’m sitting in my kitchen at this moment wondering if there is even going to be a class for us next Tuesday.

Come on little baby. I’ve gotten used to you being there. I want you stay here. Why aren’t they calling?!!!

I just called Seattle Reproductive. They are ordering an ultrasound. Though Lindsey said it’s quite common to have bleeding, I’m freaking out. I’m leaving in 45 minutes to have an ultrasound.  I’m downing 32 ounces of water right now and talking to Busse, who is telling me it’s going to be fine. She’s my best friend and I believe her. "I swear, I'll quit bitching about being fat and won't complain anymore at all, as long as this baby is O.K.," I say.

She said I could complain all I want and that she knows the baby is fine because she found a pair of perfect, scratch-free Coach sunglasses on the side of the street today.  "Nothing can go wrong on a day like this," she tells me.  "Especially to a baby." In one hour, I will know…
It’s 5:00pm exactly and I have just returned from the ultrasound. The baby is four whole centimeters long, with all its fingers and toes and a very healthy, beating heart. I saw its brain, its face, its jaw.  It was moving around like crazy, kicking its legs and swinging its arms.

It’s amazing how something four centimeters long can occupy so much space inside me. This little person is not only swimming in my belly, but it’s in my head and in my heart and it looks like it plans to stay.  And though I complain about being a big ol' fatty, I could not be more glad for that.

Will Some of My Facebook Friends "un-Friend" Me?

I realize, now that I've posted a link to this blog on Facebook, some of my more conservative friends might find out something they didn't know about me before. I may actually lose friends for brazenly supporting two gay men's hopes of having a family. I also know that there are people who will acknowledge it, but who won't accept it and don't respect me for it. I'm quite OK with all of this.

As a girl growing up with such an obvious physical difference, I was always aware of what people thought of me. I'd catch people staring at my hook that peeked out from the end of my shirt sleeve and I could tell right away if they were accepting or not. I could size up every single person in a room and know which ones I'd have to prove my worth to, which ones were intimidated by my difference, which ones were scared and which ones I would never win over. Always trying to get people to see "me" or the "me" that they could accept was exhausting. I've come to a place in my life where I'm perfectly fine with, "Take me or leave me." I have the most wonderful group of friends and family that I'm happy to keep the ones who inspire and support me and kindly let the others go.

It still baffles me that people stand in judgement of others and condemn them for living the lives they choose. I have been on the receiving end of judgement and hate and it's an awful feeling, but it's a reality.

I respect that people have their fundamental beliefs. I have mine, as well. The letter below was sent to someone I've known for years, whose opinion of me completely changed after learning I was going to surrogate a baby for my gay friend. The letter was written with the hope that this person could look at the situation from another angle, but whether this person did or not, has no affect on my resolve to live my truth...

I am compelled to write to you, as I understand that you have very strong feelings about my choice to carry a baby for my friends who want desperately to become parents. I would like to explain my decision to help them, not because I feel it’s necessary for you to accept it, because I know that that is not an option, but because I feel it’s my moral responsibility to be who I am. Part of being who I am is living openly and honestly and trusting in myself and my beliefs enough to stand up for them in the face of those who might want to judge or condemn me.

First, let me start by saying that I am proud of the way I live my life and the things that I have done on the planet so far. I have a very strong faith in my purpose here, and I try to live up to what I believe I was put on Earth to do. I have made many mistakes in my life, but I’m fortunate to see those, own them, and learn from them along the way. I have made decisions based on fear and I have made decisions based on love and I have always found that the ones made from a place of love are the ones that change my world and the world around me for the better. In fact, part of the reason that I am with Tim again, today, is because I trusted in the love that I have for him and looked past the fear I associated with him, and have stayed true to those feelings. Today, we are better than we have ever been together, because of that dedication to our decisions coming from that place of love.

And, that is why I chose to sacrifice 10 months of my life to bring a life into this world – one that will be surrounded by love. To condemn my spirit for such a decision, not only disappoints me, but also deeply saddens me. My friends are gay. This is a fact. This is not something that they chose – that they latched on to as a passing fad. They have had to face ridicule, they have been ostracized by others, they do not get to enjoy the same freedoms and benefits that heterosexuals do. No person would “choose” this kind of treatment / life. But brave people would choose to live honestly and openly in the face of those who stand to persecute them.

Your opinions about homosexuality are just those – opinions. My friends are wonderful people, contributing members of society, and will be excellent parents. I will hold their baby in me and grow it and will have a gift like no other in my life when I am able to hand them their child (and by the way, this is not my egg / not my child – I am the vessel where he/she will grow). I consider this an opportunity to teach my children about love, sacrifice, acceptance, family, and understanding. These are the teachings that many religious philosophies ascribe to, and they just a few that guide my life.

I am a very spiritual person and I rely on my relationship with God to guide me. I have had many conversations with my Source about forgiveness, faith, trust, fear etc. and I have turned many of my problems and pains over to God and trust that answers to my questions will be revealed, solutions to my problems will be given, and that I will be led down a path that is my course. I know you have your very strong faith, as well, and I would never try to tell you that you are wrong, though I have my opinions, as you have your opinions of my decisions. I am shocked that there was even a suggestion that after my death, I will be received in hell with open arms for helping homosexuals have a family. If this is my fate for living my life, then so be it. I doubt that upon my demise you will find me there, but I don’t claim to know for sure.

I have been blessed to know some amazing people in my life; people who have taught me to be a better person through living life with an open heart. I ask you to open your heart, to stop condemning in the name of God, and to try to be more loving and less judgmental. Let my God, your God, Buddha, Allah, Joseph Smith, Whomever runs the Heavens, judge me someday. I’m OK with that. Jesus taught us to Love One Another. This is how I live my life. I love people and I give of myself when / however I can. I try to do unto others as I would have them do unto me. I don’t think that I will go to hell for this decision I’ve made, and know that it was not made lightly or on a whim. It will not be convenient for me to carry a baby this year. It will not be easy on my body, my relationships, my work. But nothing worth anything in life is easy. Just like it will be hard for you to get your head around this and be supportive and loving – I ask that you do it. Because in the end, it will be worth everything.

There's Pizza in the Oven

“Mom? Can lesbians have babies?” Chet asked.

We were out on a walk together one late afternoon in early summer. We had been home from our getaway weekend with Max and Bob for about two days. I had decided if I was going to carry a baby for Max and Bob, I wanted my kids to really know them and to share time with them. I hoped that after spending the weekend together, my sons would understand that though they were two men, they were just like every other couple we knew that was in a committed relationship.

“Yes. Lesbians can have babies,” I said.

“Well, can gay men have babies?” he asked.

“It’s not as easy, but it’s possible,” I said. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, when I was out on a walk with Max, he said that he wanted to be a dad. I asked him why he wasn’t and he said that he hoped he would be one some day. If gay men can’t have babies, how is he going to be a dad?”

“Well, there are a couple ways he could do it. He could adopt a baby or he could have a surrogate carry a baby for him,” I said.

“Well why doesn’t he just adopt then?”

“It’s not that simple, honey. And, I know that Max really wants to have his own child. One that is related to him by blood,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, when Max was about 12 years old, he was skiing with his dad and his dad had an accident on the mountain and died right there in front of Max. Max never got to grow up with a dad, and I think it’s really important to him to have a child of his own, that shares his genes, that is part him, part his father, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. So then what’s a surrogate?” he asked.

Drawing back on a conversation I’d had with one of the therapists at Seattle Reproductive, I knew I had to get this right. Children don’t really have the ability to conceptualize eggs and sperm. Though my boys have been through “Human Growth and Development” (AKA Human Gross and Embarrassment) at school and have sat through a very detailed discussion about sex (with me), the therapist told me that kids at my boys’ age can only see a “chicken egg” in their mind when you say there’s an egg and sperm that combine to start a life.

“A surrogate,” I said, “Is a woman who will offer to carry a baby in her womb for other people who don’t have working wombs. It’s like a human oven. Babies or embryos can be created in scientific settings where they take the reproductive cells from a man and a woman and combine them outside of the body, but after that, they have to go into a womb to grow. Only women can be surrogates, because only women have ovens. Do you know what that means?”

“You mean, only women have the place to grow a baby?”

“Exactly,” I said. That’s why lesbians can have babies, because they have the oven. It’s like I can have pizza dough here and I can add the sauce and cheese over here and I can combine them, but if I don’t get it in the oven, nobody’s having dinner. You get it?”

“Ahhhh…I get it. So, why don’t you be the oven for Max and Bob?” he asked.

I think my heart skipped a beat. I said, “You know? I’ve been thinking about it, Chet. How would you feel if I did that, though?”

“I’d feel good, Mom. I think it would be a nice thing for you to do.”

“Hmmm. Well, I’ll think about it some more. But, you know Chet, there are some people that think that gay men shouldn’t have the right to have babies. Some people think it’s wrong. If I did it for them, there might be people who say bad things about me or say that what I’m doing is wrong.”

There was a pause and Chet stopped and turned to me.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Max is one of your best friends, right?”

“He is.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what other people think,” he said.

To avoid tearing up, I smiled and took his hand and we turned the corner toward home.

“You’re an old soul, baby” I said to him.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means, I’m really lucky to be your Mom.”

Max's Letter to Oprah - She Hasn't Responded...Yet.

Dear Oprah,

I am writing you to share my story of friendship, love and the beginning of a beautifully unique family.

I am a gay man who has been in a wonderful committed relationship with my partner, Bob, for nearly five years. We both come from families who have taught us that authentic lives come from living life centered around acceptance and love. For us, the next natural step in our relationship is to start a family and instill in our child what our families have taught us.

The science of how we plan to have a baby is not new and is not what makes this story so amazing – it is the commitment, love and friendship that will be behind the creation of this child. And this is why I felt that this story must be shared.

My partner and I have been planning to have a baby through a surrogate. We found a surrogate through an acquaintance early last year and were pregnant for 8 weeks until she had a miscarriage. It was an unimaginable pain. For 8 weeks we felt what it was like to be expecting fathers. It changed us. We were ready to try again, but soon after the miscarriage our surrogate’s husband received a job transfer and they had to relocate which meant that she couldn’t try again. We had come so far and were so close to being dads, but now it seemed like we were as far away from our dream as when we started.

But it was during this difficult time that a very incredible thing happened. One of my best friends from childhood, Carrie, stepped up and agreed to be our surrogate! I have known Carrie since I was 6 years old (I am 37 now) and she has been one of my closest and most inspirational friends throughout my life. What makes Carrie an inspiration to me and many people is that she was born without an arm, but never for one minute acted like she had a handicap. She has always lived her life by the motto that what makes people different makes them stronger. Today she travels the country sharing her story and showing people that the only limits a person has who is missing a limb are the ones they put on themselves. An example of this is when Carrie recently traveled to Las Vegas to talk with a 21 year old girl who was going to lose her arm to cancer. She said that she would rather die than lose her arm. But after meeting with Carrie and seeing how successful and vibrant of life she has filled with adventure and love, the girl decided to follow her doctor’s wishes and have her arm removed. This is just one story out of many where Carrie has shared her story and changed a person’s life. And now Carrie will be able to share one of the most amazing accomplishments anyone can achieve – creating life and giving someone a family.

I think that many people wonder what makes a person commit to having another person’s child. It can only be someone who lives and loves selflessly. During a very emotional dinner where Carrie told us that she would have our baby she explained how she believes that we are all here on this Earth to love and to help people. I have never felt this more than when she reached across the table, grabbed my hand and said, “I’d do anything for you.”

I thought that I would be a dad ever since I was a young man. My own father died when I was twelve in a skiing accident, but I was old enough to remember how outstanding of father he was to me and my sister. He never hesitated to say “I love you” or to hug me every chance he got. It is hard to think that he will never have the chance to be a grandfather, but I feel like I can carry on his legacy by being the father he never had the chance to be.

Bob and I are blessed to have our families close by here in Seattle. It has been years since a baby was born on either side of our families, so as you can imagine everyone is very excited to welcome the new addition. Add this to Carrie’s incredibly supportive family and our child will be surrounded by three loving families. We feel so lucky for all of these people in our lives and feel very fortunate for our child who will be surrounded with love.

As you can see, this is not your typical family, but rather it is beautifully atypical. We are three families who are becoming one extended family out of a friendship that started over 20 years ago. It is story of friendship and of commitment. It is a story of dedication and courage. But most of all, it is a story of love. At the center of everything is loving and being loved. With the birth of our child, never will this be more true.

Sincerely,

Max Wurzburg

Drugs Be Done

I finished taking all of my injections, pills and patches last Sunday. There was a little bit of internal angst with that. Though I HATED taking them, in some way, they made me think that the baby was safer. I had come so far in the last year and now, Max and Bob's baby was alive inside me. What if I stopped the drugs and the baby stopped living. I had already seen it moving. I know it's healthy. But, what if it's only healthy because it's being sustained by synthetic hormones?

I know that logic is crazy, yet, I'm also admittedly half-crazy on these hormones, so to me, it makes perfect sense. Honestly, I almost put extra progesterone inside of me on Sunday night, just as a little boost.

Monday morning, I had a blood draw to check my levels. Everyone at the PAML lab knows me quite well now and they know what I'm trying to do. I used to be such a needle-phobe, but now, it's nothing. We chit chat while I'm getting stuck with the needles and they ask how I'm doing and how Max and Bob are doing. We all know each other by name and I have my favorite phlebotomist. NEVER in my life would I expect to say, "She's my favorite phlebotomist."

The gal who drew my blood on Monday gave me a giant hematoma. She was not my favorite phlebotomist.

Once again, I began the waiting game. WE began the waiting game. Though Max is 250 miles away, on blood draw days, it seems like he's right here. I get calls and texts throughout the day. "How are you feeling? Have you heard anything from Seattle Reproductive? Do you feel any different?" God love him for being concerned. He's like a paranoid mother hen. I made the mistake of telling him the other day when he called that I was feeling a little crampy. I probably got five texts "checking in," one of which was to find out if maybe I didn't just need to "take a poop" and the other to ask "if [I] had pooped yet." I think I'll text him out of the blue when I'm done with this and just say, "I pooped."

But I digress...

And so I waited for the call from Seattle Reproductive to tell me that my blood hormone levels looked good and that I could confidently move into the next seven months knowing I'd done my hard time and was an honorable and loyal hormone junkie. When I hadn't heard by 3:00PM, I called and left a message with our gestational coordinator. "Hey Lindsay, it's Carrie. Just calling to see if you've received my blood results back yet. Call me when you know something."

About fifteen minutes later, my phone rang. It was Max.

"Hellllooooo?"

"Hey," he said. "Did Lindsay call you?"

"No. Not yet. I haven't heard anything."

"OK well, I just got off the phone with her. They want you to do the shots for another two to three weeks."

I felt like someone stabbed me. I thought, "Oh God. I gotta get home and get a shot right now." I was scared that the baby might need it right away. I felt like I was going to cry and throw up. I was literally sick in an instant thinking about the torture of shooting that God-forsaken syrup into my ass for three more weeks. As it is, it hurts to sit and walk and I can't have any pressure on my butt at all. It's so tender and sore and just plain abused. Oh God! Not more. I can't handle this!

"What?" I said. "Why?" Desperate panic settling into my voice.

"No. I'm just kidding," Max said. "You're fine. You're done. Your levels looked great."

I couldn't even be relieved or happy at that moment. I was in the midst of the biggest emotional swing I'd felt in a long time. Silence.

"Sorry. That wasn't a funny joke. Bob said I should do it, but I thought against it at first."

"Um...I'm still a little pissed at you right now. You should go with your instincts from now on. Do me a favor and punch Bob in the balls."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"K. Well, I gotta go."

I know he felt guilty, as he was trying to make a funny and now that I'm three days off the hormones, I think I might be lightening up a little bit. It's still hard to believe that I never have to do that again. It was such a huge part of my life last year.

I'm really looking forward to getting reacquainted with the girl I used to be pre-synthetic hormones. I hope she's still in here and that she didn't drown in the pool of lady hormones that is my body. For all the darkness that was the in-vitro drug process, there is a light in this abyss.

Turns out, this baby doesn't need drugs to survive. All it needs now, is me.