Some of you were annoyed. You didn't like that I referred to my daughters' surrogate as an oven. Truly I meant no disrespect. I love and admire the generous soul that carried my daughters for thirty-seven weeks. She went into labor as I sat in a theatre watching a preview of 9 to 5: The Musical. I always wondered if she went into labor because she had sympathy pains for me. I have friends involved so I'll keep my review simple: Cute... with kinks. Mostly it brought back my repressed desire to own a silk work kimono like the one Lily Tomlin wore in the movie version.
Honey, I'm leaving for the office. Just gonna pour myself a cup of ambition, grab my purple work kimono and I'm out the door...
But I digress. Back to the oven, I mean, the surrogate. Here's what it's all about: It takes a village to make a gaybie (not my word). When a gay man realizes he wants to have a child, it forces him to face his own queerness, in the true sense of the word. And it's contrary to his life-long mantra: "I'm normal. I'm just like everyone else." So like it or not, it's back to the village. You're going to need everyone; especially the villagers with vaginas. You'll also need: money, support systems, time, lawyers, fertility specialists, location and cashmere (don't ask). Homosexuals are not as fortunate as our heterosexual counterparts. We certainly don't have the luck on our side like, say, a Jamie Lynn Spears or a Palin daughter. Making children the gay way is like building a yacht.
Somewhere along the line I started to feel guilty or less than. As a result, I built up some defenses. You must want it so badly that you literally have to reach out your hand to virtual strangers for assistance. Of course they become real in the fullness of time, but when you're introduced at a Marie Callender's to the woman that's going to carry your children, it's impossible to think:
You're mommy.
So with key players, I found myself doing this thing I call, "distance regulating." So much intimacy. So much vulnerability. So much need from others. I must save myself the only way I know how.
Nicknames.
Less eye-contact.
Jokey banter.
Let's keep it light... because it's so not light.
And then there's the egg donor. You never even get to meet her.
It's hitting me now. My daughters have no mother.
So listen to this part. You log onto a secured website. (Octomom, if you're reading this, please skip to the next paragraph) Page after page of girls -- not women, girls. A headshot, a small video testimonial and an extensive medical history. That's all you get. Fifty percent of my babies' DNA would be purchased online. Something about it depressed me. I must distance regulate.
Want a mom? She's three clicks away!
We quickly learned about the dearth of desirable donors. They're like diamonds; it's all good on the surface, but when you take a loop to them, the difference between a flawless stone and an included one seems small, but looms large. Take the "Diamond" out of Lou Diamond Phillips and you're just stuck with a guy called, Lou Phillips. (That almost makes sense). I learned everything I know about diamonds from Suzanne Pleshette, may she rest in peace. She wore ten carats on her finger to work everyday. A gift from a man, she told me.
Wow, that's quite a ring, Suzanne.
It's a piece of shit. You couldn't even cut the cheese with it. A zircon costs more.
So if and when you see a donor you like, it's a BUY NOW situation. Turn your head for a second and donors get scooped up by other gay couples competing from the same pool. We decided to go with V139K2 (not her real name). There was something very exciting and scary about it once the decision was made. We'll never know her. Our daughters will never kiss her. She is everything... and nothing. Oh my god, my daughters have no mother!
See that's what it is. I have to call our surrogate an oven because I can't call her their mother and I can't call V139K2 (not her real name) their mother. And it drives me crazy. I can't tell you how it drives me crazy.
But this is what saves me...
Here's a list of what they do have:
--doting grandparents
--lots of cousins
--fifty gay uncles
--two gay aunts
--clean sheets
--bubble baths
--kisses from morning 'til night
--walks in the park
--laughter
--dogs that lick their feet
--And two adoring fathers. And that's enough. And that's our family. And that's everything.
That surrogate was not "an oven" her heartbeat kept your daughters alive---the food she ate allowed your daughters to grow and develop into healthy babies.
As a woman, I hate the language you use, and as adult queerspawn, I hate the presumption that the gaybie-boom, or alternative family creation, is new. Families, queer and straight, have used donors, surrogates, adoption, and egg donors for decades, and queer folks didn't just start being parents during this millennium. We've been growing up with gay parents since long before there were onesies that said "I love my daddies."
Keep saying that immature humor is an adaptive strategy- I beg to differ. Your daughters are blessed to be the apple of the eye of a village of queer men - I know those blessings well, they are incomparable. But from a queerspawn to a queer parent: go toward that uncomfortable intimacy, be there and feel how strange and unknown that is, because your daughters will have to confront it eventually, and it will be less scary for all of you if you've done that work too.
its honest.
yes its done with humor, and thank God we all have that as a buffer sometimes--
but i learned something about max's journey to parenthood , i have a new understanding, and i thank him for sharing it with all of us. Its both a very personal, and very important issue.
When I was younger (I am too old to donate now,) I looked into donation, and my packing a few extra pounds excluded me, and they refused to answer my questions about why. I guess they thought I wasn't pretty enough for their picture book, despite my fantastic test scores, blue eyes, blond hair, etc. It's all about marketing the package I guess, and fat's right out, even though that's - for most of us - more of a difficulty with how we are raised or lifestyle, and not the quality of our genetic material.
There is in that sense a manufactured shortage of donors.
People may love the fairytale of being Max's daughter, but what about the nightmares you can't imagine? Octo-mom is one such example of 8 babies with no father and an unemployed mother. What of the individuals or couples who literally are genetically designing their baby?
Bio ethics requires stricter standards rather than anecdotal fairytales and dreams that hide the multibillion dollar industry with dark shadows still undiscovered, like designer baby embryos gone bad, increased rates of disabilities, designer babies turned orphans, etc.
We need to make it easier for children to be placed with well-researched and vetted families. Once you're cleared of being potentially dangerous, the red tape should not be it's own nightmare.
I'm looking forward to one day adopting my own children - but the flaming hoops of fire I'll have to jump through? Not so much...
I wish your family well and congratulations on the little bundles of joy. I just have one questions that we should all think of when we make these decisions: What are you going to tell your daughters when they gets older? They will most likely ask the question, where did I come from or who is my mommy. Inserting my opinion, I think that it would not be beneficial to your daughters when they find out that the person who bore them is seen as just an oven. I know you may not want to hear this, but that type of image, especially for young girls, can have a lasting impression on the self image of a child, whether or not we like it or not...Whether we give them all the love we have or not.....
But as a woman, I still have to take issue with "oven." I've taken issue with it ever since I first heard, "Hey, got a bun in the oven?". It objectifies a part of my body that is pretty damned important when it comes to the perpetuation of the human race.
Why not just stick with "surrogate"? It isn't as funny, but it sounds more respectful than a household appliance.
All the best to you and yours.
I had a beautiful *immediate* family, Dad, mom, siblings but never much of an extended family and always so envious of those who did.
Thank you for sharing such a sweet and humorous story and for giving me a phrase to help explain how I handle certain issues in life .. "distance regulate" .. perfect.
Your little girls are very fortunate indeed. :-)
Though I agree it would be wonderful if children *in the system* could find such loving parents, I think we all know the ugly reality of bias that still exists towards same sex couples when it comes to fostering and/or adopting. Let's hope that is another change soon to come.
And, yes, I would make these comments no matter what your sexual orientation.
Time to take care of the children we already have in the village.
I'm adopted and I agree that adoption should be a first line of thought, but it is not always practical for the individual adoptive person/couple.
I will add that Max & Erik are 2 of the most wonderful people you could ever know and that their daughters, will have a life filled with love and want for nothing.
Eric
and any complaints about gender role models being essential to a child's development in gender identity is crap. thank you Dr Dobson and your "Focus on everyone's family but your own" for deceiving us into believing gender identity and sexual orientation is a "learned behavior"! nonsense!
CONGRATULATIONS! I'm proud of your family!