Suzie and I have been trying to get pregnant for a couple of months now.

I wasn’t going to say anything. I thought it would be really fun to be all, “Yeah, it was an accident!” (Because, you know, queer babies don’t usually happen by accident.)

I wasn’t going to say anything, because I was sort of hoping it would happen really easily. Hell, I’ve never missed a period. Why shouldn’t it work the very first try? (Btw, queers have the same rates of pregnancy success as straight people, so yeah. There’s no reason it shouldn’t work on the first try.)

But then it didn’t work the very first try. And then I didn’t want to say anything because I was sad. And I realized it would be painful to begin every dinner with friends by announcing “Not pregnant yet, don’t ask.”

And then it didn’t work the next month. And I was sad again. And Suzie was sad. But we read all the things that said that it takes a couple of months, so don’t worry, etc. So we didn’t worry.

But then there were a whole bunch of people posting adorable baby pictures on facebook, and we were sad some more. Babies are so cute! We’d be such good parents! We know how to snuggle babies and be sleep deprived! We could do it!

And I read a whole bunch of baby and pregnancy blog stuff, and I charted my ovulation, and I talked to Gd a lot.

“Gd,” I said, “Can I please get pregnant? Please? I promise to be really awesome at it. I’ll read all the books and I won’t drink booze or coffee. Please? I really want to be pregnant.”

And another month or so went by. And we were sad some more.

And then I was losing the race to Kate Middleton, and I was all, “Ugh! This is no fair!” But then I thought about how much it must suck to have paparazzi stalk you all the time, so I didn’t feel so bad.

But then I still wasn’t pregnant! And I read more articles and blogs, and I realized how awful it would be to get unsolicited advice all the time. It seems like everyone and their cousin has opinions and advice for would be parents. Eat this, don’t eat that. Exercise like this, but not like that. Stick a thermometer up your nose twice a day. Stand on your head. Spin counterclockwise three times while singing “Twinkle twinkle little star” and throwing salt over your left shoulder. Etc.

So I only told a few close friends and family members. I didn’t want to tell many people. Because what if it took a really long time?

And then I still wasn’t pregnant. Every time I saw the friends I told, I was sure to drink some booze or coffee so they wouldn’t ask. And then I got drunk and hyper.

And then I STILL wasn’t pregnant! I had more conversations with Gd.

“Gd,” I said, “What the f^&%? I want to be pregnant NOW. What are you trying to teach me here? I already know I should be more patient. I’m not interested in getting more patient. Why can’t I just be pregnant like everyone else on facebook? Is this some kind of punishment? Is my life just too awesome? Can I not have everything I want? Is that the lesson? Because I really really REALLY want this! Please?”

And then I still wasn’t pregnant. And people were posting cute photos of babies, and people were posting gross stories about baby poop and vomit. And I vowed to never post anything about poop or vomit on facebook unless it was a funny story about someone being drunk, because anyone can get drunk, BUT NOT ANYONE CAN HAVE A BABY RIGHT NOW!

Sigh.

In the end, Suzie and I aren’t very secretive people. That’s why I’m writing this. I can’t take it anymore. As much as I dread unsolicited advice, I just can’t stand keeping a secret this big. So here it is world, my big secret: I am not pregnant. And I want to be.

Please don’t give me your advice, and please don’t send me your articles. Please don’t tell me about a doctor or a friend or a magic potion. If you want to do something nice or helpful, you could wish us good luck. And if you feel so inclined, you could pray for us.

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