Fourty Two

So back in 1999, I was a member of a couple of online communities to foster writing though online blogging. At that time, there were several people who I clicked with, whose writing and experiences echoed mine, contradicted mine, and importantly, inspired mine. I came to even live with some of these people at one stage through various tricks of fate.

One of those people was Jenna. We lived together only briefly, and life definitely blew us in very different directions after. We lost touch for a few years, then, when we began blogging again, stumbled upon each other again through circumstance. Cause life is like that, yanno?

For the past year or so I've been stewing on writing a piece about Australia and all it has come to mean to me, this Canuk by way of Europe, this global nomad who once in her 30's lived in one house for a whole three years, and who has lived an entire lifetime rarely staying put for more then a year. But every time I sit to write it, I find it's not yet done. It's forming in my head, but it is not yet ready to be written.

Then Jenna wrote this (Go read it, now, the rest of what I am going to say needs you to see her words first.); http://figmentj.livejournal.com/212238.html

And the din in my head suddenly roared to life.

I had been blocked because I was trying to write about coming to Australia, about the peace my soul felt here completely independent of all the other things that happened before I got on the plane. And nothing in life is that static. Certainly not something as huge as what I did when moving here. It's not something I had encountered before in my writing, typically I find biting off small chucks, single experiences or events is the best way to approach a blog entry. So it's no wonder this one was so long coming. I was trying to address, in isolation, an event that was dependent on the entirety of my existence at that time, and could not, therefore, be separated out.

When I moved here, it was with a one year working holiday maker visa in my passport, the promise- and the risk- of a relationship formed online, and not a clue.  But I did not approach the journey as a year long adventure. No, I rid myself of everything I owned that could not fit into the three very large suitcases, packed those things most important to me, and I MOVED me, my life and everything 16 thousand Kilometers (10 thousand miles for you yanks) from London UK to Brisbane Australia.

I still remember exactly how the city of Brisbane looked as the plane landed that morning. I remember the water, the bridge, the mountains cradling it all. I remember thinking; "This is where you will spend the rest of your life."

Looking back, that thought did not bid from some sixth sense that knew, just knew, that this would become home. No, I think the thought was born from the fact that I was so weary of life, so exhausted from starting over that I simply could not imagine anything further ahead, too tired to see anything more then the one next step in front of me. Lao-Tzu is quoted as saying " A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step". Perhaps this is because, for many who set out on a new path, anything more then one step is utterly overwhelming.

I had, through a series of past events, emptied myself entirely of emotion, of energy, of life force. I was a shell of a Nikki, going through the motions. I had given everything I was to loved ones close to me, ironically, to no avail- we both healed only after we were well apart. Turns out we were better apart then together.

Even after packing up everything, and approaching the trip here as a move rather then a stepping stone, I had no idea that what I would find here was Home.

But from the runway stairs, from my first breath of air, my sleeping self began to awake. My psyche felt soothed, and began, for the first time in many years, to feel as though maybe everything would be ok.

I've been in Australia for nine years now. The one year holiday maker visa morphed into a spousal visa, and the spouse is now just a friend (though I kept his mother). Nothing in my life is as it was on that day, when I stepped off a plane after 62 hours in transit, and felt the sunshine on my face. Nothing, except one thing.

This is still my home.

Australia has been utterly wonderful to me. It is where I was meant to be. It is where I am truly me. It has healed me, nurtured me, developed me into the me I always knew was in here, just under the surface, waiting for an opportunity.

Jenna, I nope NZ offers you the same peace that I found in Australia.

Before the Dawn

Coffee in the darkness.
Before the sounds of traffic overtake the cricketsong.
Navigate through sleepy streets to the shoreline.
Before the sun peeks over the horizon.
The gentle whisper of small waves as the tide rolls in.
Before the joggers brush past, filling the air with the smell of their sweat.
The receeding lights as fishing vessels make their way out to sea.
Before the packs of cyclists rumble past shouting training commands .
The smell of the salt air.
Before the chattering of the lorakeets overpowers the mournful cry of the sandpiper.
The dew on the grass catching the streetlights.
Before the mothers with prams descend, clutching their lattes like lifelines.
The skittering of crabs in the half light.
The world laid out before me, ready to be seized.
This is how I like to start my day.
Nourishment for the soul.

Kismet

When you encounter something by chance that seems like it was meant to be, then it could be kismet, your destiny.

When I was younger, situations like this used to worry me sick.

Every few years, fate does this wonderful little trick with my life, where it scoops everything up like dice in a cup and shakes me all around. I'm in one of those moments now, rolling around in a big ol' plastic tumbler, getting glimpses of the light over the edge of the cup now and again, and occasionally feeling a little seasick amidst the chaos. It could be a couple of weeks, a couple of months, or a year before the cup chucks my dice out. All I know , is they are going to land in a pattern completely different.

A year from now my life will not be the same as it is now.

 I'm going to be made redundant. no Idea when- again, a month from now or a year from now, no one has the answer. I've not looked for work, as Tiff is looking for work in both Sydney and Melbourne. We've decided to take this opportunity and make the move we have been contemplating making 18 months from now anyhow.

We're trying to get pregnant. We had been calmly doing so for four months now, and had been thinking of moving in 18 months or so to give us plenty of leisurely time here with easy access to the wonderful wanker that is our sperm donor. But now, with recent changes, everything is on hyperdrive. Now we are trying with both of us, and its a race to see who can get knocked up first. Of course, we don't ovulate on opposite weeks, oh no, we ovulate mere days apart, necessitating two 45 min drives each night to and from donors place for collection. For a whole week. Poor guy will be sore and in desperate needs of a rest come Sunday. Yes, we have indeed contemplated the notion that we might both wind up pregnant. And giggling at the prospect of sumo-style belly bumping.

Our lease runs out in two months, and so the agent is putting pressure on us to re-sign. Which we don't want to do, as we hope to be moving. And they have done us the delightful favour of increasing the rent on an already dearly priced home by $30 per week. To sign or not to sign? Moving costs will wind up being about the same as staying and paying extra per week, The real crux of it is we don't want to be locked into staying for 8 more months when Tiff might get an interstate job offer.

All this turmoil. Decisions to be made, and things left up to chance, or dependant on the actions of others.. Waiting on the universe to show us her hand.

And in the midst of it all, I am not anxious. I am not worried. I am not stressed.

I feel oddly isolated from it all. My soul is resting in the eye of the storm, doing deep breathing exercises. Gathering strength for what is yet to come.

Bring it, bitch. I'm ready for what ya got.

Old dogs are actually quite suprisingly adaptable.

Tiff; So, how do you feel about being a grandfather? We've decided to try and have a baby
Tiff's Dad;Really? which of you? And I don't need the details!
Tiff; Me, with a little help- we have a friend that is donating
Tiff's Dad; Oh yeah? Well then, I guess I need to start buying baby clothes.
Tiff; no pink frilly stuff, please
Tiff's Dad; Yeah, right- I'm going to find a wee little t shirt that says "tough"


Right then, It appears Tiffs Dad has no qualms about lesbians raising babies:)

Turkey Basters

Yesterday's post really was a joke,it was not day two, we are several weeks into the process of daily checking, and we ARE impatient, but we are relaxed, happy and excited .

So it turns out tiffs sister went through IVF with her husband to get their daughter. She was, therefore, particularly happy and supportive when we told her we have a donor and were going to start trying for a kid. After much squeee-ing and congratulations, she took a sip of coffee and then a deep breath and said "I've gotta ask- its a really personal thing, so say no if you are not comfortable"

I'm laughing at this stage as we'd already had the discussion around friends and family who would be asking graphic questions, and how we'd handle it - (frank disclosure in most cases)- we understand that people are naturally curious, and it is not everyday you are close enough to someone to ask the question.

Tiff; "yeah, sure, go ahead"
Sister;"So are you going to try naturally, or go through a clinic?"
Tiff; "Neither-we're going to take the product home in a cup and do it ourselves"
Sister (with a delighted sound) "Turkey basters?! People actually DO that?!"
Me "Well not actually a turkey baster- there's a bit too much air in a baster, yanno"
Tiff "Yeah, its just a syringe".

We've actually been asked about turkey basters by most people now, and no one seems to think about the overkill aspect, but I expect their will be a few cracks made at our x-mas gathering this year when I actually DO have to baste the turkey.

So; the mechanics (for us);
We monitor Tiff for hormone spike to determine ovulation, then for the next three days drive to the donors hour for a coffee and visit with the family. At end of visit, donor leaves room, probably with his partner for assistance, and returns with a DNA sample in a medical sample jar.

We say our goodbye and leave, with jar nestled between my tits.

Why there? Two reasons- one- sample will keep for two hours at body temperature. Two; Donor- a close mate for years has determined that if he does not get to at least do this the fun way, he at least gets to delight in the idea of his junk on my tits.

It's a small price to pay :)

At home, cosy and comfy in our own surroundings, we use a syringe to deposit the sample literally at the cervix opening.

Then, all that is left to do is remove syringe and ensure Tiff has a good time with external help.

Then she stays still for 15 minutes or so.

At home insemination has a good success rate in part because you can be more relaxed then in a clinical environment. Some people still chose the clinic route because it is essential for them to have a impartial witness to confirm there was no sex between the donor and the mother.

The donor will also help us by freezing samples before he gets his vasectomy in a year or two. Using a bank for storage means a yearly storage fee, and a mess of paperwork to cover what happens to the sample it is not used by us. In our case, if we don't use it , it will be destroyed. Our donor is very adamant that he is donating only for our use.

I think that's the basics. But if I've missed something, ask- we're happy to answer.

Day Two.

Still not ovulating.

Heather has two mommies.

There is a baby, maybe two in my future. Tiff and I have decided now is the time to start trying.

She will carry- I've already had a miscarriage, and at 39 I'm not the wisest choice, not when Tiff is just 32 with no known issues.

We have a close friend who's offered to be donor, and we plan self insemination at home by ourselves. The donor will also contribute to a sperm bank on our behalf in 18 month or so when he has a vasectomy- he is already father to several and his partner would like to stop taking the pill as a means of not having more.

 The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of planning. Tiff has removed her implant, we've seen the GP, started her on a folic acid supplement.

We've a referral to a lesbian Obstetrician at the Mater Hospital, which is good, as we will be going interstate to NSW for the birth, and Tiff has already decided the Mater in Sydney is where she wants to give birth. We still need to find an interstate Dr willing to coordinate with the Brisbane ones leading up to the birth.

Why the travel for birth? In NSW, we can both he recognized as legal parents on the birth certificate, where in Qld, that is not possible. It's vital to us that we have equal recognition, so Tiff will take the last month of her pregnancy and spend it in NSW. With 43 flights between Brisbane and Sydney a day, and me working next to the airport, I'll just have a bag packed and be ready for a call in the first weeks, then spend the last week down there with her.

We've dreamt big, and have picked out nursery furniture, though we have stopped short of complete madness by not dropping 3 grand on furniture before we are actually pregnant. And a ridiculous amount of punk/goth clothing on a wishlist. We've both agreed we wish to go fairly unisex- though not to the extreme of those who try to raise a genderless child. We have names picked out.

We are impatient, excited, and utterly terrified:)

Semi-Charmed kinda life

A month ago, I changed jobs. Two months ago I was terrified, having handed in my notice at the job I have held for the past year. A job that was stable, payed well and provided me plenty of future possibility. A job with a company who's ethics I loved, with great benefits and bonuses. The moment I passed the notice in, I began second guessing and doubting. I even spoke with the CFO about withdrawing the resignation. He encouraged me to do so, they offered me a raise if I would stay. But my reasons for leaving were sound, and could not be removed with the addition of a raise.The ongoing stress due to constant micromanagement and interference from my bosses boss, and his constant changing of the rules and complete lack of support- but consistent ability to take all the credit were things that would remain, no matter how much I was paid. Added to that the fact that I know all 5 of my co workers were looking for work elsewhere and my main reason to stay- a great fondness for my team- was in doubt. I've been gone for a month. And it seems like longer. The new role, while not at all challenging, which may in fact border on boring- is in the least peaceful. And that is something I value highly. I've added a few grand to my former salary, and gained and extra hour in my morning, which I've been filling with a little cleaning, a leisurely breakfast and a little exercise. In a few months, when the boredom is more prominent, I'll look around for a course to do to stimulate my brain. We started weight watchers 3-4 months ago, and are consistently (but not rapidly) loosing weight. I've lost 12 kilo's and Tiff has lost 19 kilo's. Just sensible meal planning, no serious amount of exercise added yet. We have bought a zumba kit and are seeking a yoga class we can attend though. We've been spending big on big-ticket items. A new Laptop for Tiff, a new Tablet for me, a home gym system and a big screen LCD flat screen web enable TV. So we are in turn spending more time at home, which is wonderful, as I love my place. I've also recently been reminded how many incredible people I have in my life. I really am blessed in the friends department. Ex's who will drop everything to drive across the city to help me move those big ticket things up our ridiculous set of stairs, friends who step in when we need to re-home a cat, friends who organize fantastic cooking classes, friends who put up their house when we we are in their neck of the woods and need a place to stay- even on weekends when they actually are not at home, friends who offer up their time to mentor us both as we expand our fetish interests. I am humbled by how many hands have reached out to us lately. I am grateful for each and every one of you.