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.
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.
