Don't Worry, Nothing Can Hurt You*

Last week Sarah came to our bed in the middle of the night.  She had had a nightmare.  She has been doing this a lot lately and it seems like it is often around 4 a.m.  I find it interesting that the nightmares occur around the same time every night.  Is that due to her sleep cycle?  Or maybe she wakes up because she needs to use the bathroom and then becomes aware of the nightmare? 

Anyway, her nightmares seem to revolve around bugs so I was not surprised when she came running into our room, jumped into our bed and cried, "There are bugs everywhere."  Not fully awake, she crawled in bed next to me and I took her in my arms and cuddled her.  I whispered to her that she was having a bad dream and it was only her imagination.  Then I said to her, don't worry, nothing can hurt you*.  I have to put an asterisk by that statement because although I was saying it in order to soothe her, I found myself disturbed by its untruthfulness.  I immediately felt dishonest for saying it.   Of course there are things that can hurt you.  There are bugs that can hurt you.  There are people that can hurt you.  There are a lot of things that can hurt you and there was a part of me, the part that hates to lie and is overly concerned with accuracy, that wanted to clarify that statement to her.  But I suppose in raising a child, especially one at that age, it isn't the truth that I was trying to protect, it was her innocence.  As I was holding her in my arms I kept thinking about those things that could hurt her and it made me hold her even more tightly.   

Her nightmare continued to make her whimper and toss.  Finally, although still mostly asleep, she sat up in bed and said that she was going back to her room because this room was just "too buggy".  I was a bit relieved since throughout this episode, I had a Sammy clinging to the other side of me and was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.  She crawled to the edge of the bed and groggily peered over asking if she could make it back to her room without stepping on any bugs.  I reminded her it was just her imagination and, with my asterisk tucked neatly in my head, I told her nothing can hurt her.

More Pictures of the Kids

As requested, here are some newer pictures of the kids.

Sarah and Sam hiding in the corner while playing hide-and-seek with Mommy Deb.

Sam rocking with his Penquin

Sarah taking her own picture

Sarah at the dinner table

Sam drooling at the dinner table.

The Ultimate Pack Rat

I got a bill in the mail from my local fertility clinic. You see, I still have one vial of sperm from the anonymous donor I used to conceive Sarah and Sam. And for storing this lone vial, the fertility clinic is charging me $250 a year. Now, I am 99.99999% sure – no, I think I can actually say 100% sure that we are not going to have another child. Why then, am I so reluctant to dispose of this last vial of sperm? I have never wanted more than two children and neither has Deb. There is something to be said for one child per parent. I mean really, what if the children were to revolt – at least our numbers would be equal. Also, another kid means a bigger car, possibly a bigger house and more college tuition. So, yes, two children is the limit. The answer seems obvious – destroy the sperm and save $250. But then why do I keep shuffling the fertility clinic bill to the bottom of the pile to save for later? I think it is the finality of the disposal that is stopping me. It is akin to having Deb, if she were a male, get a vasectomy. It’s the end of my uterus as I know it and I don’t feel fine.

Okay, maybe I am making this into a bigger decision than it really is. Yes, I realize I could destroy the sperm and, if we were ever to change our minds, we could always find another donor. But in my mind, destroying the sperm is an acquiescence that my child bearing years are over, done with, fini. And that means that menopause is right around the corner. So the question becomes, is it worth it to spend $250 to feel young?

I think $250 is a lot of money to charge for storing one little vial. Yes, I know the fertility clinic is incurring costs for keeping the sperm on ice, but really $250?? I think the fertility clinic is taking advantage of mothers and mother-wannabes and their biological clocks. I have to wonder how much of the $250 goes to actual cost and how much of that is pure profit. I suppose the clinic has to figure out some way to pay for the fancy framed Italian prints in the examining rooms and the Williams-Sonoma hand soap in the restrooms. But again $250?? That is the same as a trip to the grocery store and to Target.

I did have the thought of showing up at the fertility clinic with an igloo cooler in hand and reclaiming that last vial of sperm so I can store it in our freezer along side Sam’s placenta that we still haven’t planted under a tree. At least if the sperm were in my house, I could save money and I can be in control of my own dwindling fertility.