Due

Dear Blog Fans,

Please accept apologies for the long over-due update. Things have been STRAIGHT-JACKET NUTS of late. So, despite disappointing twos of fans, my attention was allocated to more important things like sleeping and being regular. If the Spousal Unit and myself weren't vegan, we'd be eating that Jamie Lee Curtis yogurt and harvesting stray sheep to count. Do they even still make sheep?

When last we spoke to ourselves, we'd just been found by our Birth-nerds. Since then we've spent quite a bit of time together. For reasons I will refrain from going into, we are no longer with the Independent Adoption Center. We have opted instead to pursue the remainder of our match with an attorney who is a pretty awesome chick!

We can offer one bit of important advice. When researching an agency (should you decide to use an agency) choose CAREFULLY. No amount of online research no matter how thorough can substitute for a conversation with a sufficient sampling of existing and former clients. DO NOT just speak with people the agency puts you in touch with! Instead run your fingers through the cesspool that is social media and drag up the real dirt. I can also say, that in some strange world should we decide to have a second child, we will not be returning to IAC.

In other news, the birth-nerds (birth-parents) came to spend a weekend with us here in stock-yard country. As one does when one is facing the unknown, the imagination ran wild until their arrival. What if they weren't who they said they were? What if they were really Transexual-Nazi Eskimos on a genocidal mission to kill us in our sleep and skin our pets to line the walls of their igloo-tanks?!? As it happened, neither proved to be the case.

The Paternal Birth-nerd is quite the geek, more laid-back, and finds humor in odd places just like we do. The Maternal Birth-nerd and maturation chamber for the Progenal-Unit is a big fizzy bottle of ADD goof-juice with just a little bit of froth under the cap, much like myself. Oh, and yes, I made up the word "progenal" because I can, and it is the only thing that fits in my mind.

After a hearty vegan breakfast of 'bacon'-maple, blueberry, and banana-nut waffles, we traipsed about town for a bit of nerdy fun. After a bit of shopping, we went to the Main Event where we enjoyed tons arcade games and the Maternal Birth-nerd and I rode several virtual reality rides. This was of course prior to learning that such rides are contraindicated for pregnant women.

Apparently, much like those cheap infomercial inventions that scramble eggs while still in the shell, too many jarring movements can be harmful for the baby. While I worried initially, I eventually decided that we'd just avoid them henceforth and be understanding if the baby came out with those plastic googely eyes like those found glued on cheap stuffed animals.

After several hours of game-play and winning something in the neighborhood of 40,000 arcade tickets, we decided to trade them in for a small plastic toy like something you'd buy at the Dollar Tree. We also went to a place called Storkvision. Apparently we now have the technology to peer inside the maturation chamber and see what's growing in there prior to birth. Now while you might be tempted to think this process involves stirrups, a wetsuit and a flash light, they actually do everything from outside.

Upon our arrival we selected a package which promised to allay any fears we may have had that it was a chest-burster like the one from Spaceballs growing in there. We were escorted to a dimly-lit room with soft green walls and paintings of what looked like babies underwater. Initially, I thought this was rather morbid since they all seemed to have their eyes closed. It seemed like it would have been much more pleasant had the babies in the paintings been smiling broadly and waving from inside the womb. At the very least they could've been painted panning their hands across the amniotic sac like a mime trying to get out of an imaginary glass box.

The Spousal Unit, Paternal Birth-nerd, and myself took a seat on the sofas in the room, while the Maternal Birth-nerd climbed atop a padded table off to one side and raised her shirt to reveal a large bulging belly. The woman waiting in the room next to the table tucked a towel around the base of the belly and proceeded to squirt a big pile of hair gel on her abdomen. This seemed entirely unnecessary to me as there was barely any peach-fuzz on her stomach.

Then, the woman stuck a corded wand into the hair-gel and smeared it around. The large flat television hanging on the wall behind her lit up and I waited nervously while swirling monochromatic images slid across the screen. Suddenly, I became aware of a whooshing sound much like the Enterprise NCC-1701 makes when initiating warp-speed, only this was repetitive and rhythmic. It wasn't until I saw what resembled P-waves, QRS complexes, and T-waves ticking across the bottom of the screen that I realized I was listening to a tiny heartbeat.

I thought, "O M G! There is something alive in there! There is a baby alive in there! I MUST PROTECT IT!" It was as though I was overcome by some visceral impetus to stand over the belly with my head low, back arched, and teeth-bared while emitting a low growl and glaring at anyone who came near. Much like Luca who has done this once or twice with the cats, I quickly began wagging my tail and putting my ears back in submission to the beautiful sound.

Then I saw a foot on the screen. I knew this must've been a human foot as it had no opposable big toe. Then a leg, a spine, and what looked like butt-cheeks. There was no tail, so that was good too.

The wand-worker kept wiggling the maturation chamber and pressing in different spots. Now although I haven't practiced nursing in quite a while, I am still well-acquainted with human anatomy and could tell she was trying to hone in on either baby-balls or tiny-toochie. She kept apologizing as the baby kept hiding the business. 

Now, as a gay guy, I am normally find vajayjays quite reprehensible and think they look a good bit like tarantula faces. Ok, so I don't have that big of a problem with them, I am a nurse and have probably seen more of them than any straight man could ever dream of seeing. Still, they look like tarantula faces.

 So I was the tiniest bit surprised at the level of joy I felt when the wand-worker woman seemed to find her target and said, "Well, you know us girls can be a little shy", and the screen displayed what appeared to be the smallest vajayjay in the world! HOORAY FOR VAJAYJAY!

Who would have ever thought? Thirteen years ago a timid dorky kid handed a goofy rebellious kid an ash tray just to be nice. Who would have ever thought we'd end up our own little Borg collective. Moreover, who would have ever thought there would be another human added to that collective, much less a female of the species.

Now our love will live on. It will overflow and spill into a little girl who will one day share it with others, perhaps a child of her own. In any case, I have all I need.