A post about a car advert. Seriously.

Today, a car advert made me cry.

Yes, really.

Have you seen it? The advert for the Vauxhall Grandland X. I know next to nothing about cars, and it certainly wasn't through any desire for the enormous vehicle depicted in the driving sequence. I cried because, it was the first time I can ever recall, that a female couple were depicted doing what we did five years ago - going to the hospital to have a baby. The tears were of unexpected recognition, of for once seeing someone like me, like us, depicted in that bastion of tradition - advertising. For so long, we have been absent from mainstream marketing, but recently we have started seeing representation creeping in. And that is priceless.

But why does it matter? We have equality now, right? Perhaps. In places. But beyond legislation, which has come a long way in a relatively short space of time (in the UK), visibility continues to be a challenge. Someone once said 'you can't be what you can't see'. That's not strictly true, but I am testament to the fact that it is really really hard to be what you can't see. And as I type this I think of the teenage me who started watching a particular soap opera in the mid 90s just because there was a rumour of a lesbian character. I watched hours and hours of terrible melodrama for that 30 second clip of her smiling at another woman, and occasionally touching her hand. That was all I had. I didn't understand that I was gay. I had no role models. There was no one I could compare myself to. Was I gay enough? Was I too gay? All the questions that youngsters ask themselves. I didn't know where to go, who to talk to. So I turned to the television, to those glimpses of beige, sexless lesbianism, or worse, overly eroticised sapphic action created for men. I was neither beige, nor a porn star. Where next? I found my solace at the local library, in literature, which is a far broader church.

Nearly 25 years on things have changed so much, and happily gay folk are represented much more regularly, more accurately and diversely across a range of media. But there was something about this advert. It was an advert for a car, of all things. The people in it were human, and the story they were telling was universal. They just happened to be like us. And in one moment I shed real tears, both of joy, and of grief for the difference that would have made to me when I was 16. Just two women, loving each other, being together and having a baby. Simple. Powerful. 

As an aside, neither me nor my wife were as calm or collected as the women in the advert when she went into labour. And we were in a little old car that I managed to crash when she was transferred from the birth centre to hospital by ambulance, but that's another story!

My wriggly baby

We had our 20 week scan this week. It was incredible to see the baby in such detail, although it wasn't easy for the radiographer to do all her checks because our little one is a real wriggler. You can see in the photo above, the baby is facing downwards - that's the head on the right. Happily, the scan went well and baby is developing well.

R is beginning to feel the baby moving around now, which is quite exciting for us both. I feel much more at ease as well. As readers of my previous posts will know, I have done a lot of thinking about the kind of parent I will be, and the impact of my not having a biological connection to my child. But, as time goes on, these worries and thoughts have receded. Having been through the pregnancy every step of the way with R, I really feel like this baby is every bit as much mine as it is hers.

Our time now is spent on practicalities - making room for a cot, getting rid of stuff we don't need, and making connections with other parents-to-be. One of the great things about living where we do is that we are able to be part of a gay families group which meets at our local LGBT Community Centre. It has been a great source of support, and I have no doubt that this will continue.

Choosing a nursery

Yesterday R and I went to look around three nurseries in our local area. Yes, she may only be 19 weeks pregnant, and we probably won't need to worry about childcare for another 18 months, but it seems now is the time. Indeed, one place we looked around is booked up until September 2014!

Fortunately we are in a position that R can take somewhere between nine months and a year off to look after our baby after he/she is born. But after that, she hopes to return to work on a part time basis. I may also look to reduce my hours. This would still mean we'd need at least two days childcare a week, if not three.

So we started looking at places yesterday. There are a myriad of things to think about, where should the nursery be? Should it be large or small? Should it pay particular attention to education? What sort of food will it serve? Will our child be happy there? My sister and brother-in-law chose a small nursery on the basis that they are both quite shy and thought that their baby might also be that way inclined. As it happens, our nephew is no shrinking violet, and happy to socialise with anyone. But how would they have known that?

None of the nurseries seemed to be concerned by our child having two mums, although it became apparent that we will have to think of a recipient for the inevitable fathers' day card our child is helped to make. (I vote for me.) Our only real disappointment was that there were virtually no male staff in the nurseries we saw. It seems such a shame. There won't be a man about our house, so for the sake of diversity, we'd like to make sure our child is exposed to some positive male role models beyond our own fathers.

Ultimately we will go with our gut response. All the nurseries were lovely, but one was lovelier than the others for reasons we cannot put our finger on. Heaven only knows what our feelings will be in 18 months time!

What about me?

One of the challenges of being the partner of a pregnant woman is finding your role. R gets to be part of this secret society of women who give each other knowing looks, roll their eyes in unison and shake their heads over things such as pelvic floors and pregnancy pillows. As a woman, I reckon I have an advantage, and indeed R and I have done synchronised pelvic floor exercises in recent weeks. Every little helps...

However, I don't seem to have an automatic role, which is sometimes challenging. The first question, understandably, that anyone asks me is how R is. There is an assumption that I am fine and that I'm just there, making cups of tea and soaking up the stress. I guess that is what I am doing to a certain extent. But sometimes, it is hard to work out what I should be doing when I am sleeping like a log and R is yet again tossing and turning all night. People rush to ensure that R has a seat and carry bags for her, which is fantastic, but I do feel like a spare part from time to time.

As you will see from previous posts, I do feel from time to time that I don't have an automatic community. I'm not a 'dad' but I'm not a 'mum' in the traditional sense either. I fall between two stools really. Most of the time that's quite nice, leaving me to find my own way and do it the way feels right. I hope that R feels supported, and I am fortunate that when I have a 'parental wobble' she is there and willing to listen.

Last week we grabbed a bit of unexpected sunshine and sat outdoors. We talked about what each of us will do with our baby when he/she arrives. It was lovely to really start to think of ourselves as a family. In just a few months that is what we will be.

My baby's heart beat

I heard my baby's heart beat on Monday. It was extraordinary. Every now and again between the rhythmic beats there were little pops and clicks. They were the sound of our little tyke wriggling around.

I've been thinking very much about our child today. I've had a shockingly bad day at work, and R reminded me that there are much more important things to think about - such as our baby. She's right. In just five months I will have a son or daughter. Really, compared to a bad day at work, that's just incredible. It's fascinating how quickly priorities change isn't it?

Only three weeks now until our 20 week scan where the midwife will check for any problems and also, hopefully, tell us if we are expecting a boy or a girl. We do want to know, although we really don't have a preference. I can't wait to find out, but of course then we will face the inevitable name discussions...

So, now, when things get tough at work, I'm going to think again about my baby's heart beat.