They’re here. After 14 years of living away from home, 10 years of which have been on separate coasts, I now live one mile away from my parents. One mile. It’s a big adjustment, to say the least. Being from a tiny, fractured biological family, I have always sought out relationships and cultivated community that I can call ‘family.’ I married a woman who is the same way. Now, it’s as if I’m in a play with all the same characters that suddenly has an entirely different plot. The past week has been filled with moving trucks, and trips to the hardware store, and nobody is quite sure what to make of any of it. I have been equal parts resistant and excited, anxious and comforted.
Yesterday, mid-move, we hosted a BBQ for my parents, a close friend of my mom’s who helped her move and her family members that live in Portland. It was our first warm sunny day in weeks, and although most of us were meeting for the first time, there was an uncanny feeling of connection and, well, relatedness. The piece de resistance was another queer couple, our age, also trying to conceive. Within minutes, we were comparing notes, venting frustrations and laughing as the relief of our shared experiences visibly radiated off all four of us. It’s hilarious to me how quickly we TTCers share the details of our CM with strangers. It is a testament to what a unique and isolating experience this whole process can be. As I cleaned up last night, I thought about the common themes running through my anticipation of this move and of preparing to start inseminations next month.
Today, I’m hopeful!