to vote for favorites. Only 3 votes needed to get on the list.We have decided to have a child. The first step is figuring out how to make that happen. I don’t need the birds and bees talk, I get how it’s usually done. I had a vasectomy, so the question of having a baby isn’t straight forward.
I like the idea of adoption. It’s one of the reasons the vasectomy decision caused me little pause. Adoption is one of the possibilities we put on the list.
I held this naive notion that adoption would be easy. I figured some paperwork and a cheque would be all that was required to secure some cute hungry orphan from a far away land. The reality is more complex than that, which is a good thing, I suppose. Adoption from various countries around the world is possible, but the process is lengthy, uncertain, and expensive.
Given the proper perspective any issue has two sides. Take human trafficking for instance. Buying a baby sounds like a horrible, morally offensive absolute, until you want one, and have money. Then you can see good arguments for why that rule should have some flex in it. I’m joking of course, unless you’ve got a baby for sale.
Adopting a child from within Canada, removes some questions, but adds others. In Canada, children are in short supply, and the birth mother makes the ultimate decision about where her baby goes. Michelle and I feel confident that we will present ourselves as parents that someone will pick, but it is an imposing barrier to consider, and no timeframe can be established.
Having a child is a scary proposition. I underestimated the role biology plays in providing a sense of security. When you are considering jumping off that precipice, biology at least feels like something you can cling to. It is one less variable in a sea of lurking unknown.
Other factors are at work as well. My wife wants to be pregnant. No male can deny that feeling, and I empathize with the notion that if you are going to go through motherhood, you might as well try the whole process.
Adoption has not been removed from the list of options. We will consider it again as life dictates. Until then we are pursuing other avenues to fulfill our wish.
Of course the vasectomy seems like a rash decisions in retrospect, but I am not the first fool to change his mind. There are medical options to father a child after “the snip”. We make an appointment with a fertility specialist to see what they are.
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Many friends of Michelle and I have newborns. As we tour our old stomping grounds in Edmonton, visiting from house to house, it becomes clear that we are the victims of a conspiracy. Each baby contrives to portray its very best: smiling, giggling, interactive, and beautiful. Driving away at the end of the day, after five of these sessions, I look at my wife and say something for the first time in my life, “I want to have a baby.”
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Chicken Pox never goes away, it lays dormant in your spine. It can reactivate and travel from its hideout along a nerve until it gets to the skin and makes you itchy and miserable, just like it did when you were a kid. This fascinating information I learned after the doctor informed me that I have a case of Shingles.
Michelle and I are out with friends at a crowded pub. We share a large table with a group seated at the other end. Sitting across from me is a woman that reminds me of Penelope Cruz. Partly, this is because we recently watched a movie she starred in, but there are definite similarities. She is petite with delicate Latin features and smooth skin. Her top plunges below a diminutive bust line to reveal the lace edges of her bra, which she manages to make look sexy and elegant. She is extravagantly beautiful.
I am sitting by myself on a patio enjoying a beer in the sunshine. The speaker is also alone having lunch when he receives a call. His side of the conversation provides a sad glimpse into his life as he relates the condition of a loved one to the caller.
It’s good to push boundaries. It helps you grow and experience new things, and sometimes it reinforces why there are boundaries in the first place.
My friend taught me a lesson today. She phoned to tell me she was getting a dog. “Dogs are a lot of work Marie-eve,” I cautioned her. “Oh, don’t be that guy! Not you!”
A group of people are standing in the middle of the street. At the center of them sits a slouched figure. It’s late and I’m only trying to make it to the grocery store before it closes. I sigh and pull over.
Michelle: That’s not nice! Don’t call me retarded.