Friday, Sept. 28, 2018 - 11:03 pm.
This beautiful Friday morning, Andrew and I fucked without a condom, so I think we're serious about making a baby (yes, kids of mine reading this in the future, your parents shagged, even if we adopted you). Blame it on a social gathering of Chilean students we attended over the weekend, because a couple had recently had a baby, plus there was their 3-year old running around. I thought the baby was adorable, but Andrew's paternal instinct went through the roof.
That is the attitude that made me accept getting pregnant, or at least try to. Andrew is a caring, loving, supportive man, and I absolutely trust him as a partner and parent. Me, I could do without ever experiencing pregnancy. It's only in recent years, and especially after coming out, that I've felt like my body is mine, and I'm afraid to lose that newfound sense of agency by growing a human inside of me. At the same time, though, that growing thing is cool, so, yeah, whatever.
I don't think I'm pregnant from today, though, my period is supposed to be on its way. Then we only have the rest of this year to try, because we're leaving the UK next September (shit, my heart breaks saying this), and it would be madness moving across the Atlantic back to a place where nothing is waiting for us, with two cats and a tiny creature that can't hold up its own head.
And no way I'm giving birth not-here. At the gathering with fellow students, Andrew talked to our friend with the baby, and asked her about health services during her pregnancy and birth (that's him doing his research, isn't he precious). She had been extremely well taken care of.
Gynecologists in Latin America have tortured me, forcing things inside of me like punishing my vaginal muscles for being difficult. Here, a nurse from the students' health services noticed I was in pain from involuntary contractions, commented on it, gave me time to recompose myself, and walked me through the process compassionately.
Anyway. If I get pregnant next year, maybe we can find a postdoc and stay here a little longer. My only rush to go back "home" (not my homeland, I wouldn't want to get back there) is to start the adoption process, but if we already have our hands full, that rush is gone. I'd be sorry about not adopting, though. It's something I've wanted to do. Andrew too, I think. He just really wants a baby. You'd think he doesn't know what he's wishing for, but I know he does. He's also terrified, like I am.
Enough about procreation for now.
This week, like I anticipated, was full of social commitments. I attended some talks for the science-and-arts festival in the city throughout the week, met with friends. It was all very nice. I also had to be at my supervisor's project stall at the city's farmers' market on Monday, as part of that festival...I had never seen British everyday life and people so up close. And like Brother #1 says, people are people everywhere. That's not a compliment.
At the moment, I have a lot of writing to do to publish in academia ASAP: My thesis, the paper with Brother #3, a paper from one of my PhD studies to support the paper with my brother, and another paper from another of my PhD. You know I enjoy writing, but here I'm against the clock and it's such a slow process, so I'm starting to get a bit stressed.
On the fiction front, STILL no word about my manuscript. Every single day I find pieces of news (on sinking territories, space exploration, sexual abuse discussions) that render my story irrelevant. Fuck you, publishing house, for taking away from me the chance to tell my story in a timely manner. Now it will look like I just snatched tweets and headlines and sewn them together.
(I mean, not quite. I think it's a story well told and it has multiple sides. But yes, every day I see something that is in the book)
On happier news, my short story is officially in the competition for the city's, well, short story competition in October. I'm also preparing a submission for a literary magazine. This submission, like the aforementioned short story, unfold in the same universe of the story in my manuscript. They borrow characters, settings, and sayings. Might as well, since who knows when/if that thing will ever be published.
Side note: I've been thinking a lot about my family this evening, missing them sorely. Parents, brothers, and sister. I talk to my parents every weekend, to Brother #3 constantly thanks to our work together, to my sister less frequently but here and there (and she's coming in April!!!). I barely talk to my other two brothers. There's no reason not to, but also, there seems to be no reason to. I feel a little guilty and achy about that, but these feelings pass and we remain silent. Now, this was a starting point of my manuscript.
Well, I've been at my laptop all day (with blissful breaks to eat with Andrew and do some tae-bo, bless Billy Blanks), and I'm getting a headache. Enough productivity for today. Tomorrow it's a day out with Andrew: go get something to eat, maybe do a little shopping, and in the evening we're attending a concert based on sounds of the Antarctica.