File this under TMI (done).
I’ve been ambivalent from the start about undergoing fertility interventions in an effort to conceive a second child. Maybe it makes me some kind of traditionalist to feel like conception should just happen for two people, and if it doesn’t, it’s not supposed to. I suppose I’d feel different if we didn’t already have Ava. But as it stands, I feel a little selfish. And like a cheater.
And as long as I’m being frank (this is frank, right?), I wonder about how or whether I’d feel differently toward a child conceived using IUI. I was there during the insemination, but there was a nurse doing all the work. I just sat there during the procedure, fully clothed, on a chair next to Leah, who was partially clothed, as the nurse made my deposit for me. When it comes time to sit down and talk about the birds and the bees, do I need to include a short discussion of intrauterine insemination?
I suppose if we’re ever lucky enough to have another child, none of this stuff will matter much. But that’s just a hunch. I’m impressed over and over again by Ava’s knack for angering me one second and then soothing me the next. Having a child in front of you has a way of supplanting any existential musings you might be formulating.
Like the other morning. We all woke up in the same bed, again. Leah got up first, and as she left the room, she stopped to kiss my forehead. As soon as she’d gone, Ava rolled over, propped herself up on her knees, and gave me a kiss on the side of my head, just above my ear. Then she snuggled back under the covers. Why would it ever matter where love like that originates?