Okay! So Saturday I had a tough day at work, got in the bath, and left Heather to TV. Pink-faced and clean, I hopped out of the tub, got dressed, and declared to Heather it was time to get to it. We had new advice and new reason to think we weren't entirely hopeless. Who wouldn't be excited at the prospect of not sucking?
And then I sucked. Or maybe I didn't. It's hard to know whether it's lack of effort, or lack of skill, or god's sneaky clue that he really does hate gays, but when you can't find the bodily orifice that is responsible for your future offspring, failure just feels like failure.
The first time we tried, I was excited. I laid out the towel and washed the speculum, opened the tube of generic KY, and was proud of how perfect my flashlight was for the task (although in later efforts I began to wish it came with a special bar to hold between my teeth). But when you put the new, carefully-researched speculum-- I spent days tracking the package, yearning for my pre-baby toy-- inside someone's flesh, the shine wears off. Things don't just slide smoothly, and the duck bills aren't as harmless and fun as they look. And the cervix is not right in front of you like they say it'll be.
Understandably, this is an unpleasant experience for Heather every time. She's lying prone on towels with her ankles in the air, and her undextrous girlfriend is squinting at a clanky little item that's going to be up her twat. And Heather does have some problems relinquishing control-- sometimes. When the person to whom she has relinquished control is not doing things just right, her instinctual reaction is great impatience. Vocal impatience.
One thing you should know about us is that Heather has a bit of a temper, and I am a cryer. Better that we're not both angry, or both cryers, but it means we have plenty of raised voice/weeping occasions. That's what we have when the cervix remains hidden. It only gets worse the more we struggle, so yesterday we had raised voices about the number of pillows-- I picked one thick one and Heather insisted on adding another. We had raised voices over whether to try this on the floor or on the bed. We had raised voices about the speculum pinching Heather's butt. And then we had tears because of the raised voices.
An hour later? "E-mail that lady and tell her we need to come in."