The Sonia Show

Writer. Mocker. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

Babies are us?


Yeah, so, it wasn’t long after mighty, mighty good man David and I moved in together that people starting asking when we were going to get married. Never mind that we had been together about six months when we moved in together.

Four months after we moved in together, David asked me to marry him, and –  duh – I said yes.

Now that we are married, people have started asking when we are going to have a baby. Never mind that we’ve only been married for 7 months.

Anyone who has known me for a long time knows that kids were not really on my radar. Other people’s kids were fine, but passing my genetic material on wasn’t really something I was down with.

That all changed when I met David.

David and I have a theory that our spawn would be a lot like Butters from "South Park."

Probably around the fourth date, David told me that he wanted kids, and he wanted to know if I was in. I took one look at that guy and said, “Yeah, I’m in.” He’s an awesome man, and he should be a father. Who am I to say no to that? David should have the opportunity to raise a son, because that son would grow up to be a good man, which – as all ladies and gay men know – is like a unicorn these days. And if he had a daughter, David would raise that rare woman who doesn’t have fucked up daddy issues.

Of course, after we moved in together and right before we got engaged, other things happened. Breast cancer can be a real time and energy suck. Between multiple surgeries, planning a wedding and everyday life (meaning I have TV to watch), the baby thing wasn’t a priority.

The breast cancer is gone, but the aftermath lingers. I was supposed to take tamoxifen for five years. I had an estrogen-positive cancer, and tamoxifen is an estrogen-blocking drug that keeps estrogen-positive cancer from, well, happening. Oh yeah, and you absolutely cannot get pregnant while taking it. Your baby will be born stupid or something.

Seeing as that I’m 40, we really don’t have any time to waste, and I always keep my campaign promises. I took the tamoxifen for 9 months and, with the oncologist’s permission, I stopped taking the drug in September so we could start trying to have a baby … some day. I repeat, some day. Once again, there’s the whole estrogen-positive cancer thing, so pregnancy is tricky; however, I will be closely monitored by the amazing docs at Kaiser when the time comes.

Speaking of … the docs have Kaiser have been really attentive. Really, really attentive. They are obsessed with the whole I’m 40 thing. The docs are already scheduling appointments at the fertility department for us, and we haven’t even started trying! We haven’t even gone on our honeymoon yet. When the fertility department called me this week, I told them politely to back off: “How about we actually try to get pregnant before we start assuming we can’t?”

Halle Berry was 41 when she got knocked up, and I have a lot in common with Halle Berry. We’re both former models, and we both wish that live-action “Flintstones” movie never happened. Plus, the Mansfields are super fertile. My sister even thinks about babies and she gets pregnant.

In the meantime, I’m not really in a rush to not be able to drink red wine.


Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/mocker/goober/mother in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, podcast, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

17 thoughts on “Babies are us?

  1. I really hate when people ask me if I’m having kids. So rude. A few times I’ve told people I’ve had like 7 miscarriages or that I’m sterile just for that wonderfully gratifying awkward silence.

    I’ve been sorta hostile about not wanting kids for so long, but the hubs really really wants to. I asked him why, and he said you know, how his dad was never around and he thinks he would be a really good at it and my heart just totally fucking melted. So now I’m trying to figure out how I feel about being open to the possibility. I figure I have at least a few more years before my ovaries shrivel up to decide.

  2. Sonia, you’d be a fantastic, fun, wise mom. We wish you guys the best!!

  3. @Laura: Thanks for that. I’m not always sure, but I figure David will be such an awesome dad that he could make up for my shortcomings.

    @Marie: I’m kinda surprised that people have the balls to ask a question like that. I never ask people that. It’s different when my family does it, but sometimes it’s people I’ve just met.

    Them: “I hear you just got married. When are you having kids?”
    Me: “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

    If you would have asked me two and half years ago if I wanted kids, I would have laughed at you and then throw a drink in my own face and stormed out of the bar, because I assume we would be in a bar, Marie.

  4. One of my favorite exchanges in interviews or movies is when people ask if they want kids, and the other person answers, “Of course.” Of course?!? What, those of us who don’t want children are mind-boggling oddities? I actually never get asked if I want kids, which is relieving and insulting, like when panhandlers ask everyone but me for spare change.

    Sorry for yelling, but I’m VERY excited about the prospect of a Sonia y David genius baby.

  6. @Julie: Like we would allow anyone else to take those photos!

    @Aaron: You link to the sweetest things.

  7. I can’t wait to be an auntie! Bring on the baby! And apparently the red wine too 🙂

  8. Apropos of the whole pregnancy thing, I can’t get this post out of my head.

    I got pregnant both times because I have studied my ovulation since I was 24, and I’m an ace at sticking my finger up my vagina and 1) gauging how open my cervix is and 2) pulling out some mucus on my finger and checking to see how elastic it is.

    Even now I can’t help getting excited about ovulation. Go to the bathroom right now and check your cervical mucus. It’s fascinating. If it’s elastic you are ovulating. I can peg my ovulation to the hour if I check every half-hour, which I can do because I can stick my hand in my vagina anywhere—even in a job interview, if the person leaves the room to get some water. So that’s why I was able to have a kid (and a miscarriage) only having sex two times.

  9. Generic, I can’t believe you discovered my secret blog!

  10. I wish you all the luck in the world! They are a ton of work but well worth it in the long run for sure.

  11. Crossing my fingers for you guys, seriously. I think you’d both be great parents.
    If you feel like getting all studious about it, there’s a book called “Taking charge of your fertility” that is really useful for figuring out the best time to get knocked up. I can even loan it out.
    Hey, it worked for me. 😉

  12. What Sara said. 🙂 Also, yeah, you have to give up red wine, at least until you’re in labor, but you can make up for it during your baby’s first few years. Seriously, they do so many things that will make you want to drink. Oops, did I say that out loud?

    • Hey Sonia, I am just catching up on the news and congrats. I just have to point out that I totally misread Beth’s comment above about not having red wine “til you’re in labor” and thought about how maybe it’d be a good idea to be drinking red wine *during* labor. Weird imagery!

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