So last week (was it that long ago) we stuffed ourselves with raw fish, then took a stroll around beautiful botanical gardens. Walking through rows of new growth, budding flowers and sneezing through tree sex, one can’t help but think of the process of life creation.

Peg and Fran, bless this Sushi we are about to put into our unpregnant bellies

Peg and Fran, bless this Sushi we are about to put into our unpregnant bellies

The thing is, I don’t feel connected to it. I wholeheartedly wish that I did. I wish that I could see my body as yet another flower that will inevitably be pollanated, but I just don’t know. It’s so much more than the birds and the bees. It’s like, ok kids, let me tell you about the birds and the bees, but also about the bills and the fees and the doctor’s and the needles and the tubes….I understand that lots of people decide to have a baby and then get pregnant. And everything is beautiful. But I feel so far removed from that sort of thinking. I try so hard not be jealous. Really I do. But it’s difficult.

I’ve heard people say that if you get pregnant it all just washes away. Does it? Your last post gave me an idea. How wonderful to have that weekend as a conception weekend.  I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I know that the V-list is about being able to (hopefully) tell our children they were born at a time of adventure and beauty. No matter what procedural option I choose, Danny and I are going to do something amazing, so we can tell our hypothetical kids, you were conceived the weekend we

a) entered ourselves into a Liberace look-a-like contest

b) scuba dived the great barrier reef

c) camped out underneath a meteor shower