We're trying to make a baby | Part 6
It's the third try. At this point, it feels like routine. We went through the familiar checkpoints with some boredom: two ultrasounds, daily oestrogen injection, counting the days to ovulation, actual sperm donation, then supportive progesterone pills. Something I don't get used to are the regular visits to the lab and pharmacy. The thing is, I'm a trans man who went though years of testosterone and an administrative transition. I'm balding, I have a beard... not the usual future mother. Hence the terror i feel inside. It's not illegal for trans men to get pregnant, but a lot of practical things around queer pregnancy are forbidden. For an example, when French government voted for AMP for lesbian women in 2021, a violent debate fired between deputees about opening AMP for trans men. The hilarious thing is these people don't even know don't know what is a trans man and what is a trans women and most of the argument was a pronoun hot mess. The law ended up not opening AMP procedures for trans men, and I ended up being more traumatized than ever.
Fast forward, I was fortunate enough meeting a physician who agreed to help me get pregnant safely, minus the part where I get a pirate sperm donation from a friend. Everything happens smoothly and safely, except for the moment I thought I had caught Syphilis. But going to the pharmacy to get my hormones and pregnancy tests? Terrifying. From the beginning, the sweet old pharmacist understood I was trans and provided my meds without a glimpse of judgement. There was a time he asked some medical question using the actual words "your future pregnancy" and I couldn't answer because of all the buzzing in my ears. My brain kept telling me someone was about to throw me in jail and I couldn't see clearly what was in front of me. Yup, I had a panic attack because the pharmacist did not discriminate me. Actually, there was a single time where the woman at the front desk had a bit of gender panic while filing me for a pregnancy test, then some chaos and whispering occurred. I quietly watched them mess up my files and politely explained that I'm trans and that I, indeed, come for a pregnancy test. I know how to do that because I've done that a million times. I almost felt relieved that time because I knew absolutely how to react. However, give me a front desk with medical staff who know enough about trans people, who don't ask awkward questions, who treat me with professionalism and respect? Enough for my fucked up nervous system to give me a panic attack, apparently.
I'm writing this because it's been almost two weeks since insemination day, meaning my meds need refilling and I'm due for a pregnancy test in a couple of days. I'm actually procrastinating going to the pharmacy at this exact moment.
That's enough for today's brain juice. Oh, btw, I love getting mail!