It was Valentine’s Day weekend 2005, and we had our first sonogram scheduled—but there was no heartbeat. I was crushed. Even now I can hear the doctor’s words echoing in the room and feeling like all the air had been sucked out. I was depressed and convinced it was something I had done wrong that resulted in our loss. In reality, that wasn’t the case, but it still took a lot of time and reading to heal—miscarriage rates are significantly underrepresented, in my opinion. My wife was very supportive during this time—it was her loss too, after all—but it deeply affected me on a personal level to know that I had a life within me that was snuffed out so quickly after being so jubilantly received.
We waited a few months after that, as I needed to heal both physically and emotionally before trying to conceive again. We knew that our desire to be parents was stronger than our fear. Today we know that being a parent is all about facing your fears.
It was about that time when the State of New York changed its regulations on where frozen sperm could be delivered, essentially restricting it to reproductive specialists who performed inseminations in an office exam room. So I no longer would have the chance to say my wife “got me pregnant.” Gone were the comforts of home—my pillows, comforter, a glass of wine to share. I now wore a paper gown during conception on a table covered in tissue paper.
Working for a large hospital system, I had access to some of the best doctors in the country, some just down the road from my laboratory. We met with my new reproductive doctor and his team with great hope—these people make their living by making babies. Getting pregnant was a carefully-timed dance. I used ovulation sticks exclusively to chart my progress and when I was within twenty-four hours of ovulation, I called the office and made an appointment for the next day. The appointments were time-dependent on whether the test was positive in the morning or afternoon.
This significantly more scientific version of having a baby included multiple sonograms and measuring the egg itself. But the essential difference was that we were no longer using intracervical insemination (ICI) as we did at home; we were now working with washed sperm and the doctor used a catheter to perform intrauterine insemination (IUI) to get closer to the fallopian tubes.
I was able to conceive again that summer, but it was short-lived and I miscarried within a week of getting a positive test. After this happened a third time, I learned it was referred to as a chemical pregnancy—when the β-subunit of human chorionic gonadotropin (beta-hCG) levels rise, but there are no anatomical signs of pregnancy (an embryonic sac). The rate of this type of miscarriage is hard to judge, because unless you are taking lots of pregnancy tests and being followed by a specialist, most women believe they are just late and then get their period without ever knowing their hormone levels had gone up.
Unfortunately for us, we knew immediately when I was pregnant and this steep emotional rollercoaster of elation followed by devastation was maddening. My doctor suggested doing some genetic testing to make sure there were no other factors contributing to my multiple miscarriages. The tests came back negative and I was cleared to start trying to conceive again.
Some of the strangest coffee breaks happened in those months of trying to conceive. I often left work to “go get coffee,” but instead went to the clinic and got inseminated before stepping back into work happy and hopeful. It was shortly after the genetic testing that I became pregnant again. And I’m happy to say this was the one that finally stuck!
We live and work on Long Island, infamous for its traffic. By the fourth month of my pregnancy, I knew every bathroom spanning thirty-plus exits on the Long Island Expressway. Overall, I had a rather uneventful pregnancy. I did have gestational diabetes, but testing my blood sugar by sticking myself four times a day was a small price to pay for the miracle I was carrying.
Before we knew it, October 2006 rolled around and I was waddling everywhere. I drove myself to the doctor’s office, not knowing that my water had broken and that I was leaking amniotic fluid. My labor was stalled and our son was so comfortable inside me that we needed a stimulant to help my labor progress. I chose to receive an epidural to help me with the pain and within hours we were the proud parents of a baby boy. Michele and I knew that as a parent you love your child, but we had no idea the voracity that one loves with—Shane was and is our heart.
Adjusting to parenthood came with its own set of challenges. The delirium from lack of sleep is something that cannot be explained, only experienced. Some mothers idealize their delivery plan and when life deviates from that plan, they are torn apart. I knew our son’s birth story meant little to me in the way of specifics, only that he and I were healthy in the end.
My personal nemesis was breastfeeding. I desperately wanted to nurse our son, but Mother Nature did not share in my vision. I worked with lactation consultants and used a supplemental nursing system but, at the end of the day, I was limited by what my body was capable of producing. Even as I write this, over seven years after these events occurred, I am still disappointed in my body for betraying my deepest desires.
But in the grand scheme of things, this “hiccup” in my parenting abilities was inconsequential. Our son was a happy and healthy baby and he lulled us into a false sense of security in our parenting skills…so we decided to have another baby! Our decision to expand our family further actually came at a very sad time—while watching siblings grieve over the loss of their mother (a close friend of the family). We knew that we didn’t want our son to be alone when we passed.
We had already picked out our donor and it made sense for Shane to have a full sibling, as I was happy to carry again. Conceiving our second child was a much different experience, because I was now toting a toddler with me to my reproductive office. Nothing says “family” like having a kid strapped into a stroller next to you as your feet are raised in stirrups. Luckily for us, this second attempt worked quickly and I became pregnant within four cycles. Managing my hormones and our toddler’s tantrums was a balancing act my wife somehow accomplished without going completely insane. I again had gestational diabetes, but with chasing a toddler around I had gotten used to doing everything on the fly. When it came to labor, we requested that I be induced during my last week of pregnancy as a matter of convenience and babysitting availability. Michele was very concerned about taking care of me while simultaneously tending to our son, a feeling of pressure that was alleviated by my mother’s arrival. In May 2009, again with the aid of a labor stimulant, I delivered a healthy baby boy, Ian.
Parenting our first, then parenting our second and the dynamic between the two has been a whole different ballgame. Our sons make us smile every day. They are so different in their personalities and each is funny, intelligent and sweet. We keep a composition notebook of all the cute, entertaining and exasperating moments they have blessed us with over the last seven years.
I leave you with a story from the backseat of a minivan. A friend of mine was taking our older son to music class while I stayed home with our infant and an injured foot. As Shane and my friend’s son chatted in the backseat, the statement was made: “You don’t have a dad.” From the front seat, my friend listened with baited breath, ready to intervene and steer the conversation if needed. But our son replied in his happy, sweet way: “No, I have two moms. We are a family.”
PART 5
CO-PARENTING
When same-sex couples decide to have children, it is common for them to look into adoption, surrogacy, foster care or assisted reproduction. Not many people think about or even know about co-parenting. Co-parenting is when two or more people in a platonic relationship raise children together. It’s most commonly seen when heterosexual couples separate but still have joint custody of their children. However, there are other instances where individuals decide to co-parent without ever being romantically involved. Think of it as a shared custody scenario without the ugly divorce.
Whenever additional people are involved in raising the child, there are many opportunities to create a more ba
lanced life. While one parent or couple is taking care of the child, the other person or couple can catch up on things like sleep, chores, work-related activities or hobbies. This allows you to be more focused on your child when he or she is present. Because there is shared custody, you can also have free time while your child is staying with his or her other parents. This makes it easier to schedule date nights and have more alone time with your partner.
If you choose to co-parent, you’re not going through the journey alone and you can use the support of your co-parenting partners when difficult situations arise.
When two sets of parents are raising a child, if each of them is working there will be four incomes to help with the expenses of child care. This can alleviate a lot of financial stress if it is clear upfront how each person is going to contribute.
For some people, having a biological connection with their child is important. In a co-parenting situation, it is possible for both biological parents to take active roles in raising the child. Everyone involved also has the opportunity to witness and be a part of the pregnancy journey. It is possible for them to be present for sonograms, for the baby’s first heartbeat and maybe even to feel the baby kick. Finally, if everyone is comfortable with it and the doctors allow it, each of you can be present during the birth.
A well-thought-out co-parenting scenario can be great for everyone involved, including the children; however, that doesn’t mean there aren’t risks associated with it. If the moms have one set of rules at their house and the dads have another set of rules at theirs, things can get complicated very quickly. Jealousy can even creep in if people are not secure in the parenting relationship structure they’ve created. That can result in an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Making sure everyone is on the same page in the beginning will make things easier later on down the road.
It may not seem like an issue in the beginning, but if the other couple (or person) you co-parent with lives a fair distance away, this could eventually turn into a hassle or major inconvenience. Some people choose to live very close to each other or even in the same home to avoid this. Also, it may not always be possible for everyone to be together during the holidays. Consider how this will impact you and your children. Keep in mind that extended family members may be disappointed with not being together during these times, too. What if one of you has to move to another city, state or country for work or other reasons? This could complicate your joint custody plans as well.
Finally, it is important to note that there can be legal complications, too. Only a few states acknowledge that a child can have more than two legally-recognized parents. You may be able to do a third-parent adoption in some states, but it’s best to consult with a lawyer to fully understand your rights.
The stories in this section detail the benefits and challenges that come with co-parenting. They also highlight the importance of having proper legal protections in place and making sure everyone is on the same page before starting this journey.
Paul and Dustin
SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA
“You should write a book!”
It was the Spring of 2009 and we’d heard that statement countless times ever since our first daughter was born almost three years prior. My husband and I had just taken part in a prospective parent discussion group at a nearby LGBT Center. There were eight attendees, all gay men and women in various stages of planning their own families. Dustin and I were there to offer insight into a form of parenting that few people knew much about: intentional co-parenting. We have two daughters and are raising them with their two mothers. The four of us are collectively known as our daughters’ Parental Entourage.
Until recent years, the phrase “co-parenting” applied almost exclusively to divorced parents who shared equal custody of their kids. Look it up online and that’s mostly what you’ll find. But those are all unintentional co-parenting situations. The parents never planned to raise their kids as a separated couple. And in most of those cases, the children’s lives are disrupted due to the parents’ split. Even in the cases where the divorce is amicable, the lives of the children are still altered midstream. They lived in one home with two parents and then suddenly they’re in two homes with one parent and maybe an eventual stepparent or two.
That’s not the case with intentional co-parenting, where shared custody is the norm beginning at birth. One of the commonalities of all LGBT parents is the need to think outside the box when planning for a family. There are all the usual routes: adoption, surrogate mothers, sperm donor dads, in vitro fertilization. And they can be done whether single or coupled. But for many prospective parents, even all those options may not be ideal. Cost is always one of the biggest prohibitive factors. And not just for the conception, adoption and all the legalities that are involved, but for the subsequent care of the child as well. There is also the strain of the latter, since raising children—or more accurately, future adults—is no minor task. But having children doesn’t have to be just for those who can afford it and caring for them doesn’t have to be a Herculean effort. Co-parenting can be a successful way to share that immense responsibility.
However, children aren’t objects to be co-owned like a time-share, so isn’t it wrong to bring them into such a family structure? Not if done right. And all indications are that we baby daddies and baby mamas are doing it right. Here’s a bit of our story, how we formed our family and how the four of us work together to ensure our girls thrive.
Dustin and I began dating in 1997. Dustin was thirty-three, I was thirty and we were living in a small apartment in New York’s East Village. Parenting was never an expectation that we or our families had for us. Dustin has always loved kids and they have always been drawn to him; I say he’s like a human cartoon character because of the crazy facial expressions he can make. But having our own children? Oh, heck no; not us! We were socially active guppies (gay urban professionals) enjoying our youth and freedom.
I was okay with never having children and thought Dustin felt the same. But it turned out that his love of kids ran deep enough that by our late thirties, after having settled down in San Jose, his biological alarm clock started going off. We began having discussions that weren’t thrilling me. I knew myself: I didn’t have the level of selflessness needed to be an effective, successful, full-time parent. My own upbringing made me even more cynical. My parents had my oldest brother by accident after dating for only a short time. They weren’t ready for one kid, yet within six years they had four. The next twenty-plus years were dysfunctional enough to have left a bad impression on me. So if I couldn’t commit myself to being the most attentive possible parent, if I didn’t feel that strong parental drive that many others feel, then I wasn’t going to bring an innocent life into the world just to save my relationship.
By early 2004, the decision was final—we weren’t having kids. I was relieved. Dustin seemed disappointed, but eventually got over it. Or so it seemed on the surface. One evening, I came home from work and found that Dustin had been crying, which he’d been doing all day, he said. Initially, I thought it had to do with some minor tension we’d had the night before. Instead, he said he was mourning the thought of never having kids. The finality of our decision had confirmed that his desire was very real and deeply rooted. He looked at his future and saw a void that was never going to be filled.
Dustin has always been family-oriented. Our home is full of mementos from his parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. On an almost daily basis, he uses folksy phrases he learned from his grandparents as a child; he uses them so frequently they’ve worked their way into my own daily lexicon.
Images came to my mind of an eighty-year-old Dustin without kids or grandkids of his own, his parents long gone and his sister and her family living elsewhere in the country. If I was dead and no longer in the picture, the thought of him alone broke my heart. I considered relenting, but still couldn’t do it. We’re talking about an innocent life being brought into the world without choice
or adopted into our home just to assuage the guilt of one man and to prevent the potential loneliness of another.
The “no kids” decision remained in place.
Dustin mourned while I felt guilty and mulled over the little twinge of dread that our relationship might suffer as a result. But in the dictionary, there is a photo of Dustin next to the word “tenacity” and in truth, he had never really considered the “no kids” decision as final. By mid-2004, as we were right on the verge of purchasing our first home, Dustin stumbled across an online posting by a woman looking for prospective dads for co-parenting. It’s something we’d heard of previously, but didn’t give it much consideration—we couldn’t think of any women in our life who wanted children, let alone wanted to raise them with us.
It had certainly seemed like the ideal compromise for us. Not having to take care of the kid 24/7? Days off during the week to rest and recover? Sharing the financial burdens? And best of all, multiple parents to compensate for my inevitable shortcomings as a father? The concept was too good to be true! Being able to “have a life” while also having kids was something I could see myself agreeing to, but it was pure fantasy at that point.
Dustin had been poking around online one weekend afternoon and brought up how he just “happened” to stumble across a posting from a lesbian looking to meet single or coupled gay men for the purpose of co-parenting. He asked if I was open enough to at least meet with her and find out more. With images of a retired and lonely Dustin still floating through my head and a very strong curiosity about co-parenting, I agreed to keep an open mind and check it out. After all, it wasn’t like it was going to lead to anything, right?
Journey to Same-Sex Parenthood Page 18
