One

It took three attempts to make our Mac. Three awkward airport pick-ups of Mac's dad. "How was security?" I would ask him and he would laugh. Officials start to become a bit suspicious when you cross borders, leaving the city that never sleeps to come to the city that's never warm every 28 days. There's no declaring sperm at the border.

I rushed through the unease of it all. Rushing to catch that egg. Wanting so badly for the next part to start. But still, if I had known I'd only do it once I might have savoured it more. I might have taken a moment in the middle of that social discomfort to remember how it all was. What it means to meet a stranger and make him family. To relish in the excitement of what was to come.

Three attempts. Twelve artichoke jars of sperm. And eighteen pregnancy tests. Until the one. The one where the second line emerged. Strong and beautiful. And I knew there was a baby in me. Well, there were cells that would one day, with luck and magic, transform into a baby. Our baby.

And I walked around my city. Proud like a peacock. A secret growing inside me and it took everything in me not to tell every detail to the woman cutting my hair and the man selling me carrots. The happiness of those moments shone like moonlight. Illuminating our blessings. And yet paling in comparison to the brightness of the sun and what was to come. The round belly. The birth. The baby. But still, if I had known - if I had known it would be the last time I peed on a stick and cried with gratitude I might have held that stick a little longer. I always thought there would be a next time.

Nine months of throwing up. In public and in private. On the side of the road and in a garbage can in the middle of the shopping mall. Nine months of people offering me crackers like I was part parrot. That's what I think of when I remember being pregnant. The damn crackers. The memories of curling up in a rocking chair so that my legs wrapped around my belly and rubbing the bundle of countless possible dreams yet to be lived are harder to hold onto. They slip through my fingers even as I write them down. A permanent record can still be forgotten. Next time, maybe I won't be so sick I thought to myself. But if I had it to do again I'd know what it's like to love like your heart could explode. And that would be enough to get me through it.

Twenty-something hours of pain so unimaginable to me I shudder when I remember it. His tiny bum crushing my sciatic nerve like an elephant on a peanut shell sending waves of excruciation through my leg and out my toes. Contractions four minutes a part lasting a minute. We should have been much farther along. But instead we stayed at 4 centimetres for an eternity.

I clung to the plan I had for his birth. Laminated pages of ideas already tattooed on my heart. I stared straight ahead at the robot onesie hanging on the wall. I imagined his little body turning the cotton fabric from 2D art to 3D perfection. But he had other plans. And so did the doctors and nurses. I negotiated with them like a child resisting bedtime. Just one more hour. Please. Just let me do this on my own for one more hour. Just leave me in this tub with this jet positioned right here where it can penetrate my flesh and apply pressure right to that nerve doling out pain every four minutes. 

And then his heart rate was dropping and there was no more waiting. There was a vacuum and a team of people ready to take his grey body from me. I didn't get to put him on my chest. I didn't get to let the rest of the world disappear. I just waited an eternity until he cried. And on that first night as I stayed wide awake from the adrenaline rush I imagined all the things I would do differently next time.

Nine months of bliss. He needed constant bouncing and rocking and breastfeeding. He cried a lot and needed a lot. But I loved it. I loved the smell of him. So distinct I'm fairly sure you could blindfold me and put me in a room of babies and I would sniff out mine like a drug trained hound. In those moments I thought I would get to do it again. That it wouldn't be the last three month birthday celebration I toasted.

Six months of Hell. And another six months of aftershock. Postpartum depression was the worst experience of my life. I woke up one day underwater. Unable to move. Unable to decide. On anything. The simple choice of breakfast would leave me in tears. So unaccustomed to these feelings I turned to medication expecting it to make me happy. But instead it just numbed me. And so I kept upping and upping the dosage until there was no where left to go but down. And with each new milligram I became more and more numb. Fifty pounds gained in the span of six months. One perfect marriage nearly destroyed. We work hard to patch those cracks. But the scars remain. We plaster and paint but the weak spots have been identified. They won't withstand another tidal wave.

And I know I can only survive that once.

One baby. One perfect baby. One amazing child. One love of our lives to hold our hearts in his hands and do with what he chooses. There will only be one child in this house. And while it's not how I always imagined it to be, I know how blessed I am.

DOMA Down (a post from Mac's Dad Andy)

Same sex marriage has been federally legal here in Canada for nearly a decade. When I chose to marry my wife we were able to do so with all the legal rights and responsibilities of our heterosexual counterparts. But we knew that was not a universal right. When our son's dad married his husband this past year he did so in a state that recognized his union in a country that did not. But last week that changed. DOMA was struck down by the supreme court and it made a substantial, pragmatic, difference in Andy and Raf's life. The fight isn't over by any means. Most states still don't allow same sex marriage. But it was a victory. And we need to take moments out to celebrate them when they come. So please join me in welcoming our favourite "special guest star" to Mondays with Mac this week! Congratulations boys! We love you so so much! 

Oh, but before I turn the blog over to Andy I just thought I'd mention, you know, in case you were wondering, that today is my birthday. And you have the opportunity to buy me the absolute best present in the world! If you follow me on social media or regularly read this blog you will know that Paige Johnson's story has grabbed ahold of my heart and held on tight. As a mother, as a lesbian, and as a human being it has rarely been out of my mind for more than a few minutes. Paige has 58 days of incarceration left. We are doing pretty well at collecting enough money for her to make a phone call home to her mother every day from now until then. Each phone call costs $6. So, if you can swing it, sending her mother Jackie a $6 donation would make THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO ME EVER. The donation can be sent via paypal or snail mail (message me for addresses at kristin@mondayswithmac.com). Generous people have been making donations already and we now only have 42 days left to collect money for [UPDATE: Since posting 4 more people have donated. We are now down to 38!]. Can we get to zero before my birthday ends?

If a cash donation isn't possible you can also send Paige a letter. These connections to the outside have meant so much to her these last few weeks! 

OK, back to Andy now... 

How does the striking down of DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act from the 90s) affect me?

The short answer: Goosebumps. What a wonderful feeling when the world goes your way!

I ran into my boss in the elevator that morning, a long-time New Yorker who came of age in the gay era just ahead of mine. (In Diva Terms, his diva is Donna Summer, while mine is Madonna. Rafael's are the ones still on the radio: Rihanna and Britney).

"Tell me something good," he said, obviously meaning something about the account I work on.

"I'm so happy," I replied, work being the furthest thing from my mind. It took a moment, but then, oh yeah, he realized what I meant.

"I saw it break on the news and I got kind of choked up," he said, a little surprised at the emotion of his own reaction.

And I totally knew what he meant.

At face value, the decisions make an immediate and concrete difference for couples like Raff and me. New York is now a viable option – I can sponsor Rafael for a visa, and he can pursue his career and studies in New York, if he wants to. (I love my husband for innumerable reasons, one of them being that he feels no need to jump when the US Supreme Court says jump.)

But in that quick chat with my boss, I realized that something else was going on here, something bigger and more mysterious than Neil Patrick Harris' wedding plans. This was not just a win for couples juggling the logistics of "settling down." This is a big, emotional win for us all.

Thinking back to those Madonna years – I'm talking Paleolithic Madonna, like "Like a Prayer" and "Vogue" – there wasn't a whole lot about being gay to feel "so happy" about.

There were big depressing things, like the AIDS epidemic. There were little annoying things, like the police showing up to tow cars from the Pride Celebration. And there was this forlorn, prevailing sentiment – one shared by British indie bands and Midwestern moms alike – that being gay meant, at best, a life destined for loneliness and alcoholism.

Things changed, of course. Little by little. And yesterday, in a wave of goose bumps, they changed a lot.

So to hear my young friends at dinner ­last night – ready to propose now that marriage is "a real thing," looking forward to being on the Old Navy float at the Pride March this Sunday, tweeting about their celebrity boyfriends' latest successes – to feel the world going our way – it just makes me so happy.

Just Married-ish

A guest post from Andy (Mac's dad).

Hi, I wanted to take a moment to Special Guest Star on Kristin's blog, because I've been so busy getting married and going on honeymoons lately, this whole Supreme Court: Judgement Day thing kind of snuck up on me. And it's kind of a huge deal. 

Raff and I are married now. Twice. We wanted to be ready for any outcome, so we said our "SIMs" last November in his hometown of Londrina, Brazil. And then we said our "I DOs" again last week at the City Clerk's Office in Manhattan. We have marriage certificates in both Portuguese and English, just so there won't ever be any confusion. 

Married in Brazil 

Married in NYC 

And there isn't. We're finding same-sex marriage to be not confusing at all. It's simple. Here's where we're married now:

And here's where we're married-ish:

Everywhere else, we're Just Friends.

Living in a Married-ish state like New York has its perks. Raff may not get to apply for a green card (like I could if we lived in Brazil), but we do get to do fun things like step out of the country for the weekend to renew his tourist visa for six more months. 

And starting April 1st, we'll have the same health insurance. 

And...well, that's about it. 

If the court doesn't come through, we'll soon have to start planning a move to a country on the Married map, where we both can work and stay indefinitely. We'll still have to fill out separate customs forms and put a zero next to "Number of Family Members Traveling with You," when we come back to visit our family in the Just Friends Zone. How awkward is that?

It's funny, I never imagined I'd be married. Now I can't imagine settling for anything less.

Have you met my Dad? A guest post from Mac.

I have a Ma, a Mo, and an Auntie Tata. They all have their strengths and weaknesses when it comes to caring for me. My Ma is the best at scaring the bad dreams away and my Mo is the best at washing my hair without getting soap in my eyes. I don't know what is wrong with my Ma but she really sucks at that. And my Auntie Tata is the best at never saying no. She'll even lift me up to the magic cupboard and let me pick my own treat.

It takes a lot of work to tire these three out. But, hey, I'm up for the challenge. Sometimes other grown-ups, like my Gramma and Grampa, come to visit and Ma, Mo, and Auntie Tata sit on the couch depressed that they aren't getting all of my attention. Sometimes they can't even open their eyes because they are so sad. 

I also have a Dad but he lives in New York City. I visited him there last year. It's a cool place with lots of bagels. Dad comes to visit us in Canada too. He complains about the cold but not about the donuts. 

The first few times he visited I was just a baby and still a bit shy. My Ma hadn't yet earned my trust and I could never be really sure that she would come back when she left the room. So I kept her in arm's reach just in case. But she's left me 1023 times now and has come back every time so I'm starting to believe her when she says she'll be "right back." 

This visit with Dad was the best one yet. I'm not a baby anymore so I got to do big boy stuff with him. 

Like watch videos of cats on the button machine that my moms never let me touch. 

And staying up really late to watch even more videos of cats.

We had a pretty epic game of hide and seek in our cool no-moms-allowed blanket fort. 

He even showed me all of his cool big boy products - like soap that doesn't smell like flowers and bottles of dark liquid that make you smell rugged when you spray them. Once he forget to let me come in the bathroom with him. But I waited outside the door. 

And he felt so bad that he let me keep his toothbrush. That doesn't even have any cartoon characters on it. 

And when Ma brought us donuts he let me eat the cool one with the little coloured balls over it. 

He was really cool. And I guess he liked me too because he was constantly taking my picture. 

Ma says I'm starting to look just like him. 

Hopefully one day I can be just as cool as he is too. 

Sperm That He Didn't Put There (Prequel Part 7)

OK, so this hiatus has been exceptionally long. My apologies friends. When PPD hit I basically struggled to hit the bare minimum of promised Monday posts. And the longer I let this series slide, well, the longer it slid. But our story, the one where we meet Andy and he knocks me up, is a good one so I'd like to finish it. 

Need to catch up? 

OK, here's what happened last time. Tracy and I decided to try and find a known donor and in the process I lost my damn mind obsessively doing everything I possibly could that might make my eggs more attractive to the millions of sperm I hoped they would soon be meeting. We put an ad up online and found some of the wackiest men who are sitting at their computers hoping to give their sperm away to lesbians (because giving sperm to lesbians apparently sounds super hot until they tell you that the delivery system is a needle-less syringe). Then we found an ad on co-parentmatch.com from a gay New York City man looking to father a child, fell in potential-baby-daddy-love, and embarrassed ourselves by clicking on his profile a bazillion times before paying for a membership and realizing that he got a notification every time we did.  We nervously exchanged emails and Facebook messages and let ourselves get super excited at the prospect of making a baby with such a sweet and funny man. And because the universe apparently loves us, he already had plans to be an hour away from our house which meant a “first date” was imminent. In true lesbian fashion, Tracy and I did the baby-making equivalent of u-hauling and wondered if asking for sperm on the first date would be too forward. And when I last left you we had finally met the exceedingly charming Andy and I had proved that I am awkward and weird on a first date. But somehow he saw through all that and decided that we would make suitable procreation partners. And then Andy asked us when we thought we might be ready to start trying to conceive and we told him that I was actually ovulating that coming weekend. And now you're all caught up!

So we stood there on the path at Mount Royal wondering if Andy would actually be ready. He laughed, I think wondering if we were for real, and then let us down gently. When we started to get serious in our discussions he had gotten himself STD tested and was currently in the window period where you have to wait to get the second test before getting the all clear. 

Sweet, funny, smart, kind, and responsible? How on earth did we find this guy on the internet? 

It wasn't long before Andy's tests came back negative and he was on a plane to visit us for the first insemination attempt. 

Nervous doesn't even begin to describe how I was feeling while pacing the Ottawa Airport waiting for Andy's arrival. I was excited too. Certainly. But more nervous than anything else. We were about to embark on a second date that would last an entire weekend. And it would involve sperm in an artichoke jar. Cue the awkward silences. 

But Andy arrived and had us laughing instantly. He told us about a dream he had the night before where he was in our bathroom overwhelmed by all the soaps and feminine bathroom products available. Nervously he tried to pump some hand soap but ended up spilling it all over the floor. Sometimes you don't need a dream dictionary to figure out the symbolism of your dreams. 

We had a concrete plan for how we were going to do things. One insemination per day for the four days he was in town. The ritual began with a cup of coffee to get his swimmers moving quickly. Then Tracy and I left our home so that Andy could, well, you know. When he was done he would text us "OK" and we would return. The jar of sperm would be passed off, with as much care as an olympic torch, from his warm armpit to my wife's warm sports bra. Then Andy would give us time to, well, you know. 

After it was over I cooked us all dinner. He graciously ate my cornbreaded tofu and pasta and he and Tracy passed the silent moments by taking sips of Canadian beer. On the first night we had plans to introduce Andy to a few of our friends at a Karaokee bar. At that point in the conception timeline I could have indulged in a few alcoholic beverages without hurting our unborn (un-conceived) child but it would have felt strange so I went to the bar sober. Which is never the beginning of a great story.

The night went along fine, if slightly awkward. Some of our friends had been forward enough to ask exactly how Andy's sperm had gotten inside of me. They were the less awkward ones. Others hadn't wanted to ask. They were the more awkward ones. 

For the most part I felt fine. Until the moment when everyone simultaneously left to go to the bathroom, or up to the bar, or to request a song, and it was just me and Andy left at the table. You have never experienced awkward until you are left alone at a table with a man you met online but hardly know. A man whose sperm is currently inside of you. Sperm that he did not put there. 

But more about that next time. 

I used to fall asleep to the soothing Duh Duh of the Law and Order theme song. I don't anymore.

There's this thing that happens when you become a parent. It's a change in perspective or consciousness. The world hasn't changed but suddenly it feels entirely different. In the years that follow from childhood to adulthood we manage to forget our fears of the boogie man. Monsters cease to exist in dark closets and creaky floor boards can be explained by a lack of joist support. But in the first days and weeks of parenthood all of those fears come rushing back a vengeance.

I have the bad habit of falling asleep to the TV. I've tried to kick this addiction but I can never seem to quiet my mind without the distraction. For many years the opening credits of Law and Order served as an effective sleeping pill. The loud Duh Duh triggered my mind to relax and sleep was soon found. If Law and Order couldn't be found then other procedural crime dramas would suffice. Safe in my Canadian home I was unlikely to be found walking through Central Park or Chelsea Piers alone at night so my mind didn't wander into what if scenarios. That stuff might happen in real life (although likely less than is represented on television) but if it did it happened far from me.

Then I had a kid. And suddenly those murderers and child molesters, the polluters poisoning drinking water, and the kidnappers were all right outside my door. Because a switch flips and the world, and the people in it, feel much scarier. It's coded into our DNA. This need to protect our young. But our minds are our worst enemies as they envision all sorts of misguided and unlikely scenarios.

I've had to say goodbye to the crime dramas for now. Perhaps someday I will be able to fall asleep to the sounds of the men and women in blue solving murders and catching kidnappers. But for now I need to push those demons out of mind. Because being a parent means loving someone so much that even the thought of loosing them can cause a night of insomnia. And we parents need our sleep.

Home

We didn’t bring a lot of baby gear with us to NYC. With our trusty Onya Baby Carrier we managed just fine. No stroller, no high chair, no pack and play. But still, he required his own bag of clothes. And we needed extra clothes for ourselves. Because babies are not leak proof. So when we return home we have more bags to bring in the house than usual. I carry the baby in. She gets all the bags. His nap in the car means that he is wide-awake. We are less so. Hours later his eyes shut, he claps his hands a little in his sleep, because it’s his new thing and even sleep doesn’t stop it. I ask Tracy if she is going to head to bed too but she is too excited to download the pictures from our trip. I am more concerned with sleep than the city that never sleeps.

The next day I feel off. Funky. Mac is bored. New York City is full of bright lights and people to watch. It has fast and loud subway cars that propel you from one magical destination to the next. And in New York he got bites of pizza and bagels and cannoli. The inside of my living room pales in comparison.

I’m impatient with his boredom. We head to the park to give him space to play. We have a lot of that in Ottawa. Space. Green space. Grass space. He can crawl and climb to his heart’s content. But his heart was content being carried around New York. His head on my shoulder. People to stare at everywhere he turned.

Mac in Ottawa

Mac in New York City

I can’t shake my mood. I wonder if it is the post-vacation slump. But it doesn’t feel that way. I feel homesick. Which makes no sense. I’m home. Have been for a full day now. But still, I’m restless, irritable, jonesing for a fix.

Day turns to night and the baby falls asleep without a lot of fuss. I thank God for small favors. I snuggle into the couch next to my wife. A cup of warm tea in my hand and a bowl of popcorn on her lap. She presses play on the movie and I rest my head on her chest. The beat of her heart competes with the surround sound and I manage to split my hearing so that one ear can listen to the movie and the other to her heart.  Her arm stretches around my shoulder and I breathe a sigh of relief. I am home.

New York City has so much to offer. It has monkeys at the zoo and the best sandwich I’ve ever had. It has streets that mock the moon by appearing to be day in the middle of the night as bright flashing lights illuminate the pavement. It has artists on street corners and yellow cabs that decorate the landscape as they whiz by in packs. It has buildings so large that as you look up you suddenly feel both inspired to be big and ultimately insignificant. It has electricity that mixes with oxygen and carbon dioxide to produce some strange kind of air that inspires artists to create and writers to write. It has Mac's dad and his wonderful friends.

But it doesn’t have this. This still. This warmth. This room with the shades drawn so that the rest of the world disappears. This home I have built in my wife’s arms. Just me and her. No masses of people. No boastful bright lights. Just the humble glow of the TV as it plays the latest Hollywood hit.

Our bodies shift and bend. Finding that perfect nook. Legs criss-cross and hands are held. Like two pieces of Lego designed to fit together we sink into one another. And I realize that I was homesick. Not for my city or my house. But for my wife’s arms. And I am home.

Our continued thanks to DealAngel.com for sponsoring this trip. DealAngel takes the guess work out of searching for hotel deals saving you time, money, and sanity. Check out my review HERE. 

Special Mid-Week Giveaway!

 

That picture was taken last May when we traveled to New York City to meet our "Outlaw In-laws" (otherwise known as Andy's family). Did you notice the ad in the top of the picture? It says "Great Times Are Waiting." I didn't notice that until after we got back to Ottawa and I was looking through the pictures. I don't think any truer words have ever been written. I knew then that we were in for the ride of our lives but I would have never believed that parenthood could be this spectacular. 

And now, thanks to a great deal booked through DealAngel.com, we are heading back to NYC this week. Mac's Dad will have the chance to introduce his son to the city he loves and the friends he calls family. And did I mention that we are celebrating the 11th anniversary of Auntie Tata's  29th birthday? 

We are so, so, so blessed. And because I am feeling so lucky and generous I am going to offer you a special mid-week giveaway. Enter with the Rafflecopter below to win a $25 gift card to iTunes. Why iTunes you ask? Because iTunes revolutionized the way we buy and listen to music. And DealAngel is going to revolutionize the way we find the best deals in hotel prices (curious? click here to read my review). That, and it seemed the most generally likeable gift card I could find at the corner store by my house. 

Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway



UPDATE: I am so pleased to announce that Sarah C. has won this giveaway!  And I am even more pleased to announce that DealAngel has doubled the prize! So Sarah entered to win a $25 gift certificate but is actually winning a $50 one. That's a pretty sweet deal isn't it?

Please click on the image below to register a vote for me at Top Mommy Blogs! Just one click and you are done!

Traveling with Kids Chat Party

Hello Friends!

Thanks to a great deal found at www.dealangel.com Tracy, Tammy (Mac's Auntie Tata) and I will be heading to New York City to visit Andy (Mac's dad) and celebrate Tammy's 40th birthday!

We are beyond excited! But also quite nervous. This will be our first real traveling experience since the addition of Mac to our family and we are not entirely sure what to expect traveling to New York with a baby.

So please come on over to Facebook and help us out! On Friday June 1st from 11 AM to 1 PM EST we will be discussing family travel tips. What products are lifesavers? Where are the best places to go with a family? What games and activities help pass time in a car or on a plane? What are the best kid-friendly restaurants? Anything and everything family travel!

Plus, one lucky party guest will win a $10 gift card to the coffee establishment of your choice. Because when you are traveling with kids you need to keep up!

Click on the image below to RSVP! Or click HERE.

DealAngel: The revolutionary new way to find hotel deals

JUST HOTEL ME THE TRUTH!

Picture it: You are searching through a local thrift shop. When suddenly, across the sale rack, you see something shiny. There, next to some second-hand slippers and a pair of old sneakers, are a pair of Christian Louboutin peep toe pumps with a red leather sole and gold chain enclosure.

Your heart speeds-up, just a little, and your palms go clammy. You do your best to saunter on back to the beauties that are beckoning you without arousing any suspicion. You pick them up and you know, you just know deep in your heart, that they are real. And when you turn the price tag over and see that the shop owner has them listed for one-tenth of their retail price you quickly head to the cash to pay and practically run out of the store like you are starring in an Ikea commercial yelling to your husband to Start the car! Start the car! 

You know that feeling. I know you do. We've all been there once or twice. When we manage to find the absolute best deal imaginable and celebrate by bragging to all of our friends. It feels awesome right?

Well how great would it be if you could get that feeling when booking your next hotel stay? I know, I know, you've been on the regular travel deal sites and have been lost in the confusing details and fine print. If you are like me you have probably even drawn up a spreadsheet listing a variety of hotels from several different travel sites. But in the end it feels a bit like you are comparing apples and shishkebobs. It might even bring back memories of high school math problems. If hotel 1 offers a free continental breakfast, valet parking, is four stars and $215 a night while hotel 2 offers a free hot breakfast, self-parking, has a pool, is 3.5 stars and $175 a night which hotel is the better deal?

But in high school you had a balding teacher in a sweater vest to give you a formula to figure these things out. In the world of discount hotel prices DealAngel is coming on the scene to be that balding teacher in the sweater vest. Only much, much cooler.

DealAngel is a whole new approach to discount hotel shopping. Co-founders Roman Peskin and Bob Rogers have truly revolutionized the way you are going to search for hotel deals. Think I am being overly dramatic? Let me explain.

Let's pretend you want to head to Washington DC with your family. Instead of searching many different travel sites to find the best deal you simply log on to www.dealangel.com and type in Washington DC. The first thing you will see is that they have highlighted the most and least expensive times to stay in Washington.

June is an expensive month, especially mid-week, so let's plan to go for the weekend of July 6th to 8th. Once you have selected your date, DealAngel will scan up to 30 different travel sites and then rank each hotel deal as great, good, OK, or poor. The rankings are based on the price histories of each hotel. For instance, if a hotel has consistently been more expensive than its competitors but suddenly drops in price to be cheaper that is a deal. It may be because they have a lot of unused rooms to fill or they may have simply listed an incorrect price. It doesn't really matter why. What's important is that you scoop up that deal quickly!

And to make your decision process even easier DealAngel also pinpoints the various hotels on a map so you know exactly where you are staying. They think of everything don't they?!

So let's say that after looking at the "great deals" you decide to stay at the Renaissance Washington, DC. Clicking on the property will now bring you to a list of all the hotel deal sites that are offering rooms at that hotel on those dates.

We can see from this list that RatesToGo.com has the best price at $226.70 for two nights. All you have to do now is click GO and you will be redirected to RatesToGo to book your deal. Seriously, that's it! But perhaps you have a long history of booking with hotels.com and would feel much more comfortable booking through them. Thanks to DealAngel you know that you are only  spending an additional 60 cents. 

And just like that you are all done. No drawing up complicated spreadsheets. No need for an advanced degree in statistical analysis. Just a few clicks and you have scored yourself a great deal! Now all that is left to do is go on your awesome family vacation. And I totally would not blame you at all if during dinner at the hotel restaurant you commented, rather loudly, to your family that you can't believe you only paid $113 a night! The other patrons are sure to be jealous and that's really what it's all about isn't it? 

OK, OK, I know what you are thinking now. Well this sounds awesome Kristin but how did you hear about DealAngel and why are you promoting them?

So glad you asked! I can't resist a good deal. So when I found flights to New York for $120 return (I know right?!) I had to plan a last minute trip for Auntie Tata's 40th birthday. But after booking the flights I was left frustrated in a sea of competing hotel deals. So I turned to twitter to ask what hotel deal sites people prefer. And I got 15 different responses. Which wasn't at all helpful. And then Belinda swooped in like an angel (a DealAngel!) to answer my pleas for help. She explained to me how DealAngel works and I haven't looked back since. Take a look for yourself. I promise you that DealAngel is the last travel site you will ever need.

Want to stay up to date on the latests happenings at DealAngel? Follow them on twitter and like them on Facebook.  You will want to pay close attention in June when they are holding a contest for a romantic weekend away!

Follow @DealAngels

Have more questions? Check out their FAQ page or watch this video from co-creators Roman Peskin and Bob Rogers explaining the awesomeness of DealAngel. 

**This post was sponsored by DealAngel. However all opinions are mine and mine alone. If you are a regular Mondays with Mac reader you know that I would never endorse a product or service that I wouldn't use myself. I am incredibly honoured to be able to introduce you to this revolutionary new way to find the best hotel deals on the net! 

Turning my Reproductive Organs into Baby-Making Over Achievers

Part 7

This post is part 7 in a series entitled Mac: The Prequel in which I tell the drawn-out story of how my wife and I met the father of our child online and eventually created a child with him. If you are new here you should probably start by reading the previous entries. Seriously, this will all make more sense if you do. Just click here. Also, if you want to read Andy’s version of the events you can click here.

All caught up? Excellent. We can move on then. 

So we were walking along a dirt path in Montreal and Andy finally turned to us and asked when we thought we might be ready to start trying to make a baby. I had to hold myself back from screaming NOW! WE ARE READY NOW! DON’T YOU HEAR THAT LOUD GONG THAT IS MY BIOLOGICAL CLOCK? Instead, I just gave a laugh meant to imply that I was somewhat kidding but also potentially serious. And then I said that, actually, I would be ovulating that weekend.

Andy returned my laughter but didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t days away from ovulating and the urge to PROCREATE.RIGHT.NOW wasn’t as strong for him. Also, he’s responsible. Which means that he wanted to remain celibate for the allotted amount of time to ensure his negative HIV status. Which is totally fair and very gentlemanly.

But he assured us that he was interested in the prospect of creating human life with us and that he would be ready soon. We were happy with that outcome and drove home with very large smiles on our faces. 

This photo was taken on our way home from the big meet!

And that’s when I went from obsessively trying to increase my fertility to… well… obsessively trying to increase my fertility even more. Andy chivalrously offered to come to Ottawa for the inseminations. Which was awesome because flying to New York City and then doing the sperm hand-off in a hotel while worrying about bed bugs, or in his apartment while worrying about… well… how weird it would be have my wife inseminate me with sperm from someone I met online in his apartment, would not have ensured the peaceful, calm, environment needed to allow my cervix and fallopian tubes to relax and allow the little swimmers in.

So that was nice of him. But getting his sperm from NYC to Ottawa, Ontario wouldn’t be cheap. To mitigate that cost I attempted to turn my reproductive organs into baby-making over-achievers. And when Andy asked if there was anything he could do to help his swimmers I was more than happy to offer him a list of “suggestions” (I won’t get into that here, because that is his tale to tell, but maybe he’ll elaborate when he catches up to this part of the story).

I made use of the OvaCue Monitor Bundle which predicted my ovulation weeks in advance with surprising accuracy.  The monitor is basically a small gadget with two prongs. One goes in your mouth each morning and reads your hormone levels. The second goes in your vagina (I just literally spent 30 minutes contemplating on what word to use there – vajajay? Nether regions?) at night and confirms when ovulation has taken place. Then the little screen on the gadget shows you a calendar with colour coded boxes (light blue = not fertile, dark blue = fertile, pink = ovulating). It couldn’t be easier. It looks like a little GameBoy console so Tracy took to calling it the Vagintendo. Which is precisely why I married her.

In addition to ovulation tracking I also took a variety of vitamins and supplements. A few of these included Coenzyme Q10 (to help with egg quality) and Vitamin B6 (to help the luteal phase). I also took FertilAid for Women  and FertileCM supplements. The FertilAid is a prenatal multivitamin with vitex in it. The FertileCM is a supplement with L-arginine in it that helps to increase cervical mucus (my wife is likely cringing as she reads this. God Kristin, do you have to use the word mucus on the internet?)* I also drank two glasses of FertiliTea a day. 

Our trip to Montreal to meet Andy was a week before Pride in Toronto and we made a last minute decision to attend, figuring that it would be our last chance to party before parenthood.  We partied it up like rockstars (or like the 20 year olds we were partying with – one of whom said that we were the kind of lesbians she hope she’d be when she grew up… if that doesn’t make you feel old I don’t know what does!).

And then I forgot to insert the “vagintendo” before bed and had a total melt down.  I apologized profusely to the Ovacue in the morning and it was all relax Kristin. We can totally deal with one missing day. Which was awesome. And while I was busy turning my reproductive organs into a five star resort for sperm, Andy was busy making sure that said sperm was HIV negative. Which, as you likely already know, it was. And more on the big insemination next time!

* Tracy did, in fact, read this post and asked me to take out any reference to her.

Tracy: Seriously, I don’t even want my name anywhere near the words cervical mucus.

Kristin: Well can I put a footnote and say that you objected to your name being next to cervical mucus but that I included it anyway?

Tracy: No

Kristin: Well can I say that you objected to me writing that you objected to having your name next to the words cervical mucus?

Tracy: Do whatever you want. Just please stop saying cervical mucus.

Kristin: Deal.

**** Please note, this post was sponsored by Fairhaven Health but all opinions and claims are mine and mine alone.  I did, truthfully, use the OvaCue Monitor Bundle, FertilAid for Women  and FertileCM supplements as well as the FertiliTea with great success long before I began this blog. Also, if you click over to Fairhaven Health from this site and make a purchase within 30 days I will earn a small commission on your order. ****

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