Third anniversary gifting: leather if you’re traditional (think: sofas or whips) or crystal if you’re modern (stemware or chandeliers). And if you’re postmodern like us, DNA.
We’re spending our third anniversary building a baby. Screw boxes with bows and shit that sparkles. In 36 hours, we’ll undergo our first-ever, long-dreaded, highly-anticipated IVF procedure to harvest eggs from some 22 mature follicles, that they might be put to petri with Projected Pop’s sperm. If fertilization occurs (please, G-d!), two or three days later, we’ll return for embryo transfer. And two weeks after that, we’ll either be pregnant (please, G-d!) or we won’t. And nine months after that (please, G-d!), we’ll meet our illusive little one face-to-face.
On the anniversary of us, I guess it’s a fitting experience: A series of selfless acts designed to grow the family that started with a promise to work at it.