the beginning (cont.)

Over the past few years, we've certainly discussed having children. I've known for quite some time that Jen wants to be pregnant and give birth to a child. We've even talked about possible donors. We've agreed we'd prefer it to be someone we know. We agreed on who, of the people we know, we'd most like it to be. We, well, mostly Jen, have had conversations with this person. Most of the time they've had these conversations, I haven't been around for the serious part.

At first I was touchy about the idea of a known donor being active in parenting. In the state where we live, for me to be a second parent adopter, the donor would have to sign away all parental rights and I felt it should end there. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was being extremely selfish. I know that however we concieve or recieve a child, I will be extremely involved in its upbringing. Ideally, I want to be a stay-at-home mom, at least until the child reaches school age. And if I am, on a day-to-day level, parenting, then how shitty of me to say well, no, no one else is allowed to love my child. Technically, our child. If we end up with a known donor who wants to parent, on any level, as long as its something consistent and positive in the child's life, I think it would be a great thing. There's plenty of things a man...especially a gay man (and all the men we're considering are gay)...can teach I child that I have no fucking clue about. Mainly about penises, of course. But I'm sure there's other stuff.

So, we've talked about it. But its all been talk. We have no money and many goals. We'd like to be more stable, buy a house, at least a car, at least have some money in the bank. There are career goals, schools and certificates we'd each like to earn, positions to jockey for, and back to money again, more of that too. Since we're in a position where baby making cannot happen spontaneously, we, or at least I (but yeah, I think we), feel required to prepare for this at least as hard and as well as I prepared for grad school.

And then, at the annual Halloween party the other day, my friend Amy, who is an OB/GYN, asked how old Jen is. "34" I answered guilelessly, unleashing a torrent of information about what insurance will or will not do for a 35 year old woman and why. With drinks in everyones hands and me dressed like Michael Jack and Amy dressed like the Muppet Swedish Chef, I got intimately aquainted with the reality of a 35 year old woman's eggs.

I didn't know if I should tell Jen, but of course I fucking did. Because I love her and because she wants this and because we do want a family so we might as well face facts. And so, we begin. We've had a conversation and the idea is to take things one step at a time.

Step One. Jen goes to the gynocologist. She's going to the glbt medical center, which is awesome and needs our insured support. She'll get a checkup and talk to the doctor about our intentions. I've been slightly irked because she's put off making an appointment for a few weeks now. I know she's busy at work and she's concerned about hearing potentially de-railing news, but a)she needs to go anyway and b) we need to know if we should be investigating other options. This week and again today, she did finally call, but they weren't open for making appointments. I'm impatient for the first step to be taken.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

ok, it's settled. *this* should be your first book. the story is timely, memoirs are so hot right now, and the writing is great. i am hooked, and not just because i have the distinct honor of being the third person to know about this blog. jen, go to the doctor already so rose can write the next chapter!