Category Archive
The following is a list of all entries from the Family category.
The good, the bad and the uncertain
The Good
When I arrived on Wednesday for the blood test and ultrasound regime, all ready to be my most assertive self, the young nurse greeted me by saying straight away ‘Do you want me to get the other nurse to do it?’ and then she insisted that she would get the nurse. So I enjoyed (never thought I’d say that) the experienced hands of Buffy and left a lot less punctured than I had been previously.
The Bad
Lo & I are having a holiday with my parents in Sydney in October (This is good news in itself). They are coming over from my home town and we’re going to spend a few days in the city before driving back to where Lo & I live. The plan was for us to book a two bedroom apartment for the four of us to stay in altogether.
Background: My parents house has a few different guest bedrooms as they’re now empty nested in the family home. One room has a single bed, one room has a queen bed, and one room has twin singles. When Lo & I first went to visit together for me to introduce Lo to them, my mother insisted that it was on the condition we have separate bedrooms ‘I just believe in single beds for single people,’ she said. At that time, in the interest of building a relationship and demonstrating respect for her rules (which could have equally been applied to heteros) we agreed to go with it. So Lo had the queen bed and I stayed in the room with two singles in it. I would sneak into to A and cuddle her briefly in the night, but we obediently stuck to the separate beds regime. We expected there would be a relaxing of the regime as we all got to know each other better.
The next two times we visited were at Christmas time, so each time my older brother and his wife and my niece and nephew were also staying. This meant that my brother and his wife got the queen bed, the room with one single bed got made up to accommodate the two kids, and Lo & I stayed in the room with twin single beds (pushed against opposite walls and with a bedside table wedged firmly in between). I think we were all relieved that my brother’s presence gave us an excuse not to have to deal with this issue.
When my parents visit us they live under our rules which means that we sleep in our bed as usual and we provide them with a queen bed in the guest room. It seems to work ok, with plenty of discretion.
So, back to the apartment booking in Sydney ( I bet you can see where this is going..), my father offered to pay for the accommodation, which was generous. So he and I were on the telephone while he was booking online and there was an option for the composition of how the rooms in the apartment would be made up: one king and two twin singles or two kings. So my dad says to me as he’s booking: “What do you want, twin singles or king?” and I say “Dad, I’ll leave that to you, I expect you can figure that out,’ then he says ‘Well I know what mum would prefer,” then I say ‘Dad….’ then he says (as though acquiescing to a petulant demand from a little girl wanting an ice cream) ‘ Oh, Ok then, two King rooms it is.’ I could feel my mother’s awkwardness about it all down the telephone line as she stood in the background to the telephone call. I could have been less evasive, rather than my ‘I’ll let you figure it out, I don’t want to name that I want to share a bed with my wife’ I could have launched an anti-homophobia pro-acceptance tirade, but then do I have to? (and in my experience this doesn’t always work so well). I am sure some of you are thinking, why are we holidaying together if there’s this much homophobia? (particularly as my parents were at our wedding – you would think they would have come to terms with the fact that we sleep together by now!) But I expect we’ll have a great ole time as we always do. But sitting with this tension is hard and managing the complexities of it all!
I think I’m just a bit surprised that this is still where they’re at.. What are they going to do when we have kids, put them in the double and us in the twin singles? And what will happen when we go there this Christmas when my brother won’t be there to provide the alibi for why we need to be in the twin singles? Now that we’re married, the ’single beds for single people’ line just doesn’t cut it! I do think that it’s time to demand/ suggest more.
The Uncertain
I have the longest cycle known to man. I have been pumping Puregon for thirteen days now, since CD5. Tomorrow will be CD18 and I have another blood test and ultrasound scheduled. At my last ultrasound, on Wednesday, the sonographer said that I had two follicles that were neck and neck in terms of size and development. I am not sure what this will mean in terms of chances for multiples. A and I are feeling like we’re just going to go with it, and whilst we were originally worried about a multiple birth, we now feel more comfortable and open to the prospect if that’s what happens. Dr Y&F is very anti-multiples, so we’ll see what she says, but we discussed this prior to her deciding on this very low dose of the drugs.
Anyway, I had expected that I would be doing the trigger shot on Thursday for a Saturday insemination (you’re meant to take it 36 hours in advance), but they want me to do more ultrasounds and blood tests tomorrow morning, Friday, meaning I won’t get the results till tomorrow afternoon, meaning the insemination is likely to be Sunday (CD19) or Monday (CD20). It’s really hard not knowing when it’s going to happen, and it’s feeling really drawn out. My cycles have been a religious 32 days, with the occasional 34 day cycle, so I know it’s a long process, but Buffy had said we’d inseminate between 11 – 15 August, so I am feeling like I’ve been waiting ages. I also get worried that I’ll ovulate in between my every-second-day appointments, although it’s reassuring to see the follicles on the screen, and I think the drugs are meant to manage all that. I get the sense they know what they’re doing and are monitoring things pretty closely and I trust Dr Y&F.
When I was thinking the insemination would be one day this week, I had it in my mind that I would take the day off sick and that Lo would arrange a day off work also. But now it looks like that’s not likely to happen. So I decided tonight that I would take tomorrow off as a mental health day anyway. I am really strung out at the moment, which is not where I should be right before the insemination, and figure having a day off will allow me to get my life in order, catch up on some study and relax a bit. So we have an 8am appointment, then I’ll drop Lo off at work, go to a yoga class and then spend the rest of the day at home. I can’t wait. (It also means if I end up having to take Monday off for the insemination it looks like I am legitimately ill). Dr Y&F does the insems in her lunch break and has suggested we come in our lunchbreak and go back to work, but I don’t want to do that, at least not this first time.
Revelations
It’s been a very good weekend. (Apart from the Saturday morning spent at work, but even that makes me feel like I am starting a very busy week on a firm footing, and I have been uber productive on the home/personal admin front for the rest of the weekend.) Lo & I had a really really good conversation yesterday afternoon, a long D&M most of which took place lying in our bed looking out to the gum trees and open sky outside our window. I feel like we have reached some peace on the parental relations:
- Lo realised that she misjudged her mother and the relationship they have when she decided to tell about our plans to ttc. She was doing it in a place of openness and intimacy, but the mother mistook it for permission-seeking. She’s been shocked by the revelation that her mum has not moved forward as much as she had thought she had on the gay acceptance stuff. The charade of acceptance was much easier to deal with than the honesty that came to light two weeks ago.
- We both realised that people (or at least the kind of people that constitute our families of origin) do not want to know the details of our reproductive life (i.e. that we have one) and will feel that they need to give their views if they are engaged on it. We have decided we would prefer not to hear their views.
- We will not tell my family or the rest of hers until the 3 month pregnant mark. Then we will tell the news in good faith and with excitement and let them deal with how they choose to respond. This has been standard practice in my family with the birth of my nieces and nephews. My mother is actually quite ambivalent about babies. We need to draw a line on our responsibility not give these people too much of a stake by engaging them in the process. We are married and so hopefully, at least for some, having a baby seems like a logical next step.
- However, I know that people will be surprised by the pregnancy, given my work situation (i.e. that I am going overseas to work for three years and will not be taken long maternity leave) I think they have tagged me as a career girl and that there’s a baby on board will come as a shock. I am sure that my mother will have something to say about me planning to take 12 weeks maternity leave and for Lo to stay home with the baby.
- But we’re learning that as mothers, women are always judged, and we’d better be prepared to face criticisms at this stage as I am sure they’ll follow once we have a baby. Everyone will always have something to say on our choices on work/family, breast/bottle, homebirth, co-sleeping, modern cloth nappies etc etc.
- My mother would probably prefer to deal with this privately, and with as little information as possible. My father will probably be supportive as we are close and he’s pretty low-key. My brothers and sister will probably not care very much either way. It’s very sad to me if this is going to cause my mum pain, but I need to draw a line.
- Lo’s mother has assumed all this power by being brought into our confidence. Which has been an expensive lesson that we’ve learnt the hard way. We don’t want to duplicate the situation with my family. Given that we’ve made up our minds, we don’t want to start a dialogue.
- Lo and I have both realised, and agreed, that we have a lot of work to do on our relationships with our respective mothers. A lot. (I am sure that you, dear reader, are saying ‘d’uh!’ right now, but this was a bit of a revelation to us).
So, in part, this is an adventure about faith in our own convictions. We had a lovely time in B.orders this morning where I read a good part of Knock Yourself Up: No Man, No Problem: A Tell-All Guide to Becoming a Single Mom. The author is a lesbian, but the book is geared to all single women contemplating single-parenthood. I am so desparate to get my hands on any queer-focussed ttc literature, that I devoured it in childrens literature section as story-time took place around me (and Lo read something on food and ethics and farmers markets next to me). There were some good chapters on donor sperm and known donor arrangements. The known donor arrangements profiled were all disastrous and fraught with custody battles. We still feel intuitively good about our donors, but open to other options if need be, and still a bit perplexed by the silence on the email. The sperm comes out of quarantine this Friday (I can’t believe it’s come round!) and they’ve said they’ll do their blood tests that day to get the results as quickly as possible. The test results; the consent forms; a period; and then lift-off. I am really glad we’ve reached some resolution on the parent-telling stuff. That feels like a big break-through and the best decision in the circumstances.
More courage
Lo’s mum’s response really hit us hard… I don’t think we quite realised it at the time, but for the past week we have been a bit thrown. It’s like our baby-making house was in order and then a huge storm came in and blew everything around and now we’re straightening the photo frames on the mantelpiece and clinging to the glassware and gathering things back together.
It certainly has stirred a lot up and resulted in a lot of misdirected anxiety. We are a bit worried about silence from the donors, the consent forms are yet to come back and we haven’t had an email in a week and a half. I know that they: a) are men and so do not know that a week and a half is a long time in the world of a focussed ttc woman; b) are super busy with crazy work commitments; c) are plagued by intermittent communications; and d) may well have sent and written back by snail mail and not thought to send an advance email advising of this. I hate that this process turns me into an obsessive person who is second guessing them and making excuses – and I do think this is one of the downsides of a known donor arrangement (or at least the arrangement we have) that we are negotiating a relationship with a man/ men on really unfamiliar terrain, and it’s hard not to let weird power stuff get in there. And trying to play it cool on top.
Last time we hadn’t heard from them (very early in the process when we were about to start the tests and deposits etc) I spent a few days in the depths of not knowing and obsession and then it worked out with a very plausible and reasonable explanation (which was all solved by a telephone call). Boy I was nervous then. It’s because THERE IS SO MUCH AT STAKE!
Lo’s mum’s response got me really worried about my parents’ response. I have had some very good news on work and study fronts lately, and when I have called my parents to tell them I have heard their voices full of pride, excitement and wonder that it is their daughter telling them this good news. It’s so nice to feel affirmed and appreciated. I just wish I would have that experience when I tell them I am pregnant, like straight women do. It’s so worrying to me that it won’t be that way. That it will need to be carefully and painfully managed. That there won’t be yelps of excitement. We saw our friends S&L on the weekend and L said that all parents were concerned about how they would explain it to their friends. Her mother had been trying to convince them to adopt as it would be much easier to explain to her friends that her single daughter had adopted rather than her daughter’s lesbian partner had given birth to a baby. The only reason L’s parents know that they are ttc is because S is totally upfront and unapologetic and has family dinner-table conversations with L’s sister in law, an obstetrician, about IVF methods and keeps trying to engage L’s parents on discussion of baby names. There’s probably something to be said for being that upfront.
I am still weighing up whether not to tell my parents anything until I am pregnant, whether to give them a hint (such as saying something like ‘Lo and I would like to have kids one day’ although I just can’t work out where that would fit into conversation) or whether to bring them into my confidence, and do the decent thing, by telling them in advance. I was wondering whether a letter might be a good idea. I was thinking that I could prepare a letter that sets the issue out, tells them how much I love them and how important this is to us, and has a FAQs section if they want to refer to it for more details, and perhaps attached some positive articles about GLBT families and even a wholesome book like ‘Families of Value’ or some other hetero focussed profile of GLBT families. As my parents live on the other side of the country, my dad often posts me packages of newspaper clippings – it’s his way of showing he cares and keeping connected – I am wondering whether I could reappropriate this idea. Or whether this is just too much information for my conservative and very English parents who would prefer not to discuss these things.
So I feel a bit stuck. I don’t think that we should tell the ‘how’ of it until the donor six month wait is over (July 25) as I just wouldn’t want to pre-empt it just in case things change. But that doesn’t leave much time before our first insemination around mid August. After which it’s possible I could be pregnant! But not if I keep up this stressing and obsessing. More yoga, more swimming, more clarity, more order, more certainty, more grace, more confidence, more acceptance of the way things are, more supportive voices for Lo & I, more strength and more courage. That is my prayer.
Family values?
Lo told her mother tonight. They went for dinner and I met them afterwards. I had been at another dinner and then a class at the gym. I had no idea what I was walking into when I went to meet them. Lo’s mother told me that Lo had told her our news and that there were three components of her response:
1. She was worried for the child – and how it would feel and be treated because it had lesbian parents
2. She was worried about our arrangement with our donors – while it might seem so great now, they could fall in love with the baby and try to gain custody
3. She did not want us to do it. Did not agree with it. Would prefer we didn’t do it. Would prefer we weren’t gay and were just really good friends. But has undertaken to not mention that again.
She was at pains to point out that she knew it was coming. She loves to come across like she knows what’s going on before we do. And, because she said all this in a calm tone with a smile on her face, this is meant to be a good outcome. There was no mention of being supportive, no mention of seeing the child as her grandchild (it would be her first), and she did not want to hear anything at all about the process (and felt it was inappropriate that Lo was volunteering this information). And she perceives that her harsh judgement of us would have no negative consequences to her (i.e. she can say these things to us without feeling like we will judge her or cut her off). I have so many feelings, which I think I will write about in coming posts, but basically Lo and I are pretty disappointed. . .And I am now thinking a letter would be a good way to go when it comes to telling my parents.
And, in case you’re wondering, Lo and I both separately responded to the mother’s points with the same arguments, which I am certain you, dear reader, are all too familiar with:
1. That the reason children of same sex parents get bullied is the fault of parents who bring up children who are homophobic bullies rather than gay people who bring up well-adjusted children. Research shows that children of same sex couples are no worse off than other kids, and generally more resilient and accepting of diversity.
2. We see our arrangement with our donors as a leap of faith, and feel open to how that might play out in the future. We support some contact between the children and the donors, and if somehow it turns out that there’s a shared custody arrangement, this wouldn’t be the worst outcome ever. We were conscious and intentional about wanting to facilitate contact and access to positive male role models and are open to how that might work out, knowing the risks, but also what we see as the advantages of a known donor arrangement. We trust our instincts and the good arrangement we have set up.
3. I am not even going to respond to that one. We agreed to put that one aside.
My mother, my self
I dreamt last night that I had a baby in a room of my parents’ house. I had still not told my parents that we were planning to have a baby. So I walked out into my parents’ kitchen and everyone was wondering where this new born baby, wrapped in a blanket in my arms, had come from. I explained that it was Lo and I’s, and my mother said ‘Oh my Gawd’ (as my Mum is quite a staunch Christian, I never hear her say Oh my God, but I remember once in my childhood, she said oh my Gawd at a point of absolute exasperation and I was so shocked) with a tone of exasperation and ‘what has my crazy daughter gone and done now’. A bit like when Lo and I were getting married and my mum kept saying ‘just remind me, why are you doing this again?’ as if, to her, who has been married 47 years, the idea of lifelong commitment was totally unfathomable.
But I digress, so this dream was so vivid, and really brought home the idea that it could easily get too late to tell them. So, they’re coming over to visit at the end of September. I subtly tried to steer their visit dates away from when we would be inseminating or testing or injecting etc. – which left some very narrow windows. I am still not sure how to broach it. Some advice is that if they’re not going to be supportive it is not useful to bring them into the loop too early, however, other advice is that telling them only once you’re pregnant doesn’t often give them time to process it – and they feel left out that you have not told them sooner. By the time they visit, we could be pregnant, or more possibly, in the midst of ttcing efforts.
I told Lo I was thinking about seeing a counsellor about it, or more usefully, calling the GLBT counselling line to get some GLBT specific advice. Lo suggested I call PFLAG and seek advice on how parents would have liked their GLBT children to have handled it, and advice they might have for us. In principle, this is a great idea, but, as I pointed out to A, the PFLAG parents are accepting people, whereas my parents have not been able to come to a point of wholehearted acceptance (despite well over 25 years of experience – as my much older sister is also lesbian).
Apart from the sexuality stuff, we have a great relationship, I speak to my parents at least once a week, often twice or more, with a great deal of warmth and fondness. So it’s complex. And, at the moment, it’s really hard talking about what’s going on in my life, without mentioning most of it. I feel duplicitous and deceitful.
When words are not enough…
While the California Supreme Court has recognised the constitutionality of same-sex marriage, this week the ACT passed its watered-down civil union laws. Numerous attempts by the ACT to introduce progressive civil unions with ceremonies were overridden by the federal government, and finally the ACT caved to a pared back model, which doesn’t ‘mimic marriage’. Too little, too late. On Monday morning there were some brave folks that queued up outside the registrar’s office to sign the paperwork as soon as possible, families with kids in tow. Deserving so much more than this.
I was glad that Lo and I had not waited for our local laws, how sad we would have been with this model, that involves a ‘ceremony’ by the registrar in the government office, but does not allow for any ceremonies of substance. We know the kind of Clayton’s ceremony they’re talking about. The words above are the vows we were allowed to say when we got legally hitched in the British High Commission the afternoon before our proper, but legally non-existant, wedding. Nothing more than these words, in a waiting room, with rows of plastic chairs, a dead pot plant, and a lot of hilarity. We, and the close circle of family and friends present, actually had a lot of fun with the crazy environment, and made it our own. We crowded into that room, Lo & I having decided on our outfits about 30 minutes before, our guests a mix of having dashed straight from work, or wandering in from a day of sightseeing, tourists with video camera in hand. As we read our ‘vows’ and signed our certificate, our guests clapped and cheered and commented ironically on ‘how romantic’ it was.
It kinda was in a way. Romantic in the way that my parents, who have been married for 47 years, got hitched at 18 at the registy office, my mother in a grey skirt suit, a small and random selection of guests, with key players missing, and a small spray of freesias. If a ceremony like that can lay the bedrock for 47 years of a successful partnership it must be doing something right.
It helped that we took ourselves seriously the next day, and had a proper wedding, with words that meant something to us, with proper frocks, flowers, music, a priest, a church, a three tiered cake with the two brides cake-topper I had pestered Lo for so much, and all the signifiers that said that this was a capital W wedding, that demanded we be taken seriously. And our guests did. Ask any of our guests what they saw that day, and they would say a wedding. And the way they treat our relationship now is as a marriage, to the point of introducing me, to my shock and pomo feminist discomfort, as ‘Lo’s wife’. Lo’s 78 year old grandmother said ours was the best wedding she’d ever been to. And that’s saying something. I am not sure where our civil partnership certificate is, probably under a pile of bank statements in the study, but as for the memory of our non-legally recognised wedding ceremony? They’re still talking about it.
There’s something I missed…
It may sound like Lo & I have this all sorted. Sperm?: check; Worked out how baby will fit into our life?: check; vitamins, charting, abstainence from caffeine: check, check, check. But there is a huge ‘To Do’ remaining on our ttc list.. And that is telling our families. Who both happen to be of the very conservative Christian variety. Well, they are a lot less conservative since attending our wedding last year (partly held as a civil partnership ceremony at the British High Commision, followed by an elaborate and cheeky high church ceremony thanks to a very progressive priest) which they actually quite enjoyed. But they are still of the church going, Bible study group hosting, God fearing variety.
And I am realising that not only will I have to start charting my temperature (thanks Clark), as much as I don’t want to, we are going to have to tell our families, ideally sometime before we start trying in August. And there’s a lot of them, our two sets of parents, my four older siblings + partners, and Lo’s three younger siblings. I am expecting that Lo’s family will be a bit more relaxed, they’re younger, and I think they’ve heard of this happening before. Like most people, mainly it’s my mother that I am worried about.
As a subtle heads-up, I sent her for Mother’s Day a copy of book Lo & I found while browsing in Bo.rders, All you need is love: fifteen journeys to motherhood. The book profiles all different kinds of mothers, from adoptive mothers, blind mothers, hippie mothers and er, um, lesbian mothers – of the most non-threatening, garden variety type. I sent it along with a warm-hearted Mother’s Day card and crossed my fingers. Mum called to say she had received it, and thought it was a lovely book.
So that’s a start. When I came out, some ten years ago, (actually, it was a few years later that Mum found out -are you noticing a pattern?), I remember her lamenting that I would never have children, and that I would have made such a good mother. I protested then that I could still be a mother, but I don’t think that got heard among the pain and the tears, and the fact that she was already lamenting that I was going through what she referred to as my Hungarian Refugee phase: dreadlocks, vegan, living in an inner-city hovel and having swapped my sensible degree for a Creative Writing major.
I am just hoping that these years on, seeing Lo and I so happy (and so bloody hetero with our house in the burbs, our wedding, our good and very sensible day jobs and my very femme hair) they will find a place in their heart to make sense of our unconventional conception. . . I think we will need to schedule a telling mission in the next few months. I know that most parents come round, and I think that once parents get older, they do get a lot more low-key about things. They’ve got so much more perspective, and they’ve learnt that things generally do work out. Because they generally do.
