Family Values

Apparently I’m pregnant!

Already so different to last time. After recovering from a bout of mild gastro (courtesy of Rosie) I was still tired and nauseous. And overdue. But I couldn’t do the test until I organised somebody to film it (thank god for K!)
Then, almost because we’re filming it and because I had to tell somebody other than the camera, it seems natural to tell Rosie and mum, all at once.

Rosie was beside herself with excitement (she’s planning to save her pocket money for a cot! WTF?) and Mum was bemused…

I hadn't quite thought through the inevitable reality that Rosie would tell absolutely EVERYBODY at school... I had a moment of panic thinking 'God! I'll have a lot of talking to do should this not last...' swept aside by Rosie's enthusiasm and my utter relief at finally being able to talk about it, finally...
Oodles of opportunities to out myself and lots of gleeful moments witnessing people's reactions.

The best was a school dad, delighted that I'd obviously found a new partner. When I explained about my old friend and sperm donor, he made a quick recovery: ‘Guess you don’t need us fellas anymore!’
I’m still processing my reaction. Is M not a fella because he’s gay? Am I some weird new species because I intend to raise a child without a ‘husband’… just as I have done as a single mum? ‘Yes!’ I hear him say ‘But that was an accidental failure of a (nice, normal) heterosexual relationship!’

As I reacquaint myself with the waves of anxiety that I remember from last time (what if I miscarry? what if the baby’s not healthy?) I’m also bathing in a sea of calm (hormones?) because there’s nothing I can do about anything…
There’s such gorgeous inevitability in pregnancy and birth, whereas the uncertainty around endless conception attempts was starting to wear me down…

It still feels a bit surreal and I guess it will for a while (another 36 weeks?) but at least Mum’s starting to get her head into it. She’s announced that it really won’t do to house the baby in a walk-in-robe, even temporarily… and will I be getting rid of the water bed? I mentioned that I’d like to investigate the possibility of a home/hospital mid-wife and she took a deep disapproving breath.

Here the journey begins… new stages of relationships with mother, daughter, donor-dad… I can’t believe it! Bring it on!

I used to wonder what 2ww meant… but it didn’t take long hanging around blog communities to get it… especially the ones that I’m attracted to.

The average ‘lesbian trying to get pregnant’ blog, charts a fairly typical journey through the angst of finding a donor, the trials and tribulations of ‘fessing up to families-of-origin’… the drama and/or relief when they’re either cool with it or completely over-the-top ‘end of civilisation as we know it’ homophobes. And then of course, the hope and disappointment cycle as one organises inseminations, candles, magical incantations or reckless drunkenness, followed by THE TWO WEEK WAIT.

It’s a great comfort to know I’m not the only one undertaking this peculiar quest.

So, I just got visited by ‘Auntie Flo’ (is that the polite old-fashioned euphemism?) AGAIN!

I was so hopeful this time round… several auspicious indicators - a full moon in Gemini and MUCH more importantly, election fever followed by euphoria… so interesting that a change of government could mean so many things to so many people! At the FEAST Picnic (wrap up of Adelaide Gay and Lesbian Cultural Festival) on post-election Sunday, there was a feeling of such optimism and camaraderie… even as we held our collective breath waiting to see who would have balance of power in the Senate… That night I drove home, precious cargo keeping warm in a jar between my legs, thinking this could be it!

IMAGINE! Being able to say you were conceived at such a historic juncture in Australian history… I remember being heavily pregnant with Rosie, unable to sleep, watching late night TV, channel flicking and wondering what mock-u-drama event was featuring planes flying into tall buildings in the US? Behold how the world has changed!

However, it seems, not ‘meant to be’. No rhyme or reason to it… only try, try again. And endless other cliches. This picture of Rosie, pinned up by my bed, keeps me inspired. Even back then, just shy of 2, she seemed to understand ‘go with the flow’.

In other breaking news... I've optimistically re-newed my membership on 'The Pink Sofa'. However, the fact that I struggle to find the enthusiasm to reply to 'smiles' (let alone send my own) makes me question the authenticity of my desire to re-acquaint myself with love. Would a spark of sexual interest be too much to ask for? How about a puppy-love crush? I must confess… I do have ONE date lined up that I’m trying to not get too excited about… so, like everything else, we’ll see ; )

I seem to have done a lot of waiting and wishing this year… so I’m wondering if the Christmas Fairy might bring me something from my list, in no particular order?

…a bill of good health for my Mum …a baby …true love …production funding for a doco and web-site …amicable co-parenting of the gorgeous child that I already have…

And maybe the only thing that matters? The capacity to find peace in the status quo… the talent of being in the moment… thereby ending ALL waiting including the 2ww once and for all!

M and I had our first ‘go’ last week… I waited overhead in my bedroom, then we had a slightly awkward exchange of specimen jar at the bottom of the stairs. I peeked around the curtain to see his boyfriend J rolling camera, capturing our nervous hug and my giggled ‘thanks for this very special gift!’.

I think, unconsciously, I was hoping that filming the event (or parts of!) would provide ritual that would somehow reveal to us how we were supposed to act… but it was one of those situations, unlike just about any other I can think of, where we had absolutely no frame of reference… nothing to go by…

Even when I had sex for the first time (both gay and straight!) I had some idea of how to act… a combination of friends whispered confessions; descriptions in teen novels; stolen glimpses of pornos and of course Hollywood - muddled influences no doubt, but at least they served as reference points for someone else’s idea of a ‘code of conduct’… this, however, was just bizarre.

The second night was easier… we watched TV and talked politics. With the one night safely behind us and a new ritual established, I had a shower and was casually scrolling through e:mails when I heard M at the bottom of the stairs, sotto vocce… ‘Psst! It’s ready…’

So now we wait, we wait, for a very important date... and I mull over the fine points of difference between this and a slightly more romantic (and sexual!) encounter. I was surprised at first when I heard somebody else observe 'you guys really do love one another don’t you?’

I cringed a bit, hearing ‘lesbian lesson 101′ echo in my head (thou shalt not pass for straight… something about eating cake and heterosexual privilege?!)

… and now, slowly, I’ve come to terms with it. It’s not scary anymore… unconventional maybe, and not without it’s emotional risks, but tell me something worth having that doesn’t lay a claim on the heart?

Endless discussion has affirmed M and I are on the same page… writing a new story, inventing a new ‘family’… and waiting…

I am from a family of three parents: a mother and two dads. I decided to make this documentary to not only give the children of same-sex parented families a voice, but to show and express the extent to which same-sex parents and their children are not only excluded, but made to be invisible in environments such as child-care centres and primary and secondary schools. It is not only gay people who suffer discrimination; their families do as well, whether that be their parents, their children or the mother or father of their children. The people who participated in this workshop along side me responded to my story with open recognition, respect, and support, as did those people who have seen the completed material from the workshop. I hope that this documentary will be a step towards the recognition and inclusion of children and their same-sex parents.

Kate’s update: I have recently had more success with my digi-doc - an ex-teacher of mine has agreed to show the documentary at a staff meeting to encourage teachers to be aware of alternative family structures. Study of alternative family structures will also be added to curriculum for the subject Health Studies for year twelves at my old high school. All inspired by my story! Thanks again to Sonja and everyone else who helped me with it…

BLOG update:
Hope you all love Kate’s piece as much as I do… it still brings tears to my eyes when I watch it! And I think the success she has had in ‘getting it out there’ bodes well for the big picture dream of ‘change the world!’

Meanwhile, several people have posed the question: So, you preggers yet?
(Answer: No… we’re waiting out the 3 month turn-around on HIV/Hep C tests and will hopefully start ‘trying’ again in September)

As a result of the question and a couple of other conversations, I’ve realised I’ve been a little circumspect on the blog in the last couple of months… I’ve been so aware of treading carefully through volatile emotional terrain, needing for myself to be honest, and yet hoping as always to not cause offence; making sure everyone’s happy… hoping to ‘be liked’.

I made the mistake of supposing that sweeping generalisations would suffice in place of trying to pin down nuance and subjective complexities… I was trying for a summary that simultaneously embraced an audience of people I don’t know and people who know me very well… I guess it ain’t that surprising that I failed. Some things I have written have been hurtful and for that I need to apologise… both to those who’ve expressed their hurt and those who may still be nursing it…

You see, for me, there’s no such thing as a clean binary opposition between ‘political’ and ‘emotional’… just as there’s not between personal/political; spiritual/philosophical; ideal/real… It’s all just shades of gray… I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘complex’ so often as a ‘catch all’!

I realise that the journey I’m asking my friends and family to accompany me on is an extraordinary one… and sometimes, perhaps often, uncomfortable. I found myself trying to sell my Mum on the idea of ‘talking on camera’… “It’s cathartic; therapeutic; profound!” I spruik, “And best still, you get to be a part of something that might just make the world a better place for our kids! I really believe these stories have the power to make a difference!”

All that aside, I guess I have to acknowledge that not everyone needs/wants to sacrifice their privacy for what I perceive to be the ‘greater good’… and the risk I face, in asking them to do so, is that they may elect to take a ‘back seat’ in the baby quest and my life (at least whilst I have a camera trained on it…)
Is that a risk I’m willing to take?

I’ve been keeping records of my cycles for about 9 months now… but sometimes that’s just an asterix against a date in my diary because I can vaguely remember getting my (inconvenient!) period in a nightclub toilet. And so, it seems my cycles are both short (23-26 days) and erratic.

This month - our second ‘go’ - looked like it was going to need to be sometime over Easter. Logistically complicated because of Easter Egg hunts, social commitments… and the fact that D’s new boyfriend was leaving town, so I was kind of conscious of making sure they had some last minute ‘intimate’ time together without needing to stress about ‘bottling it’!

Plus, I was kind of busy getting a funding application together for the cross platform doco (working title ‘Family Values’) so it didn’t occur to me to start doing the wee tests until the day I was expecting to ovulate. Now it seems that I *$##$!! missed it! I kept waiting for the tell-tale cramps and started doing tests three times a day… and then I remembered that suspiciously hormonal pimple that I’d had in the middle of last week… Aagh! That must have been it….

I feel like a wally and a goose.

I’ve made an appointment with a friend’s GP (supportive, dyke-friendly, ex-gyno) for next month… stepping it up to daily blood tests rather than urine, as apparently hormone levels can be guaged far more precisely this way. Course it still doesn’t get round the sheer unpredictability of it… and needing to re-orientate social and childcare plans for 2 or 3 people at the last minute…