The dominance of dads...

Dads are great. I love my dad, and I am really enjoying my relationship with him as I grow older. Talking to him as I prepare to become a parent has been really helpful and enriching. It is odd though, as I travel ever deeper into parenthood, that I am beginning to resent the word 'dad'. I shouldn't really, but on Saturday R and I went to look at the birth unit we hope to have our daughter at in (whisper it) around three weeks time. It was a gorgeous centre, very patient focused, more like a spa than a hospital, and culturally sensitive in almost every regard. The one regard that seemed to be overlooked was the fact that even though R and I were holding hands and talking about our baby, the woman showing us round continued to talk consistently about 'mum and dad'. 'Dads will be able to...' etc. I'm now used to the odd inevitable slip of the tongue in antenatal classes, but it is always followed by an apologetic glance and then the reinforcement of the words 'parent' and 'birth partner', which reassures me that I have been acknowledged.

At this birth centre though I may as well have been invisible. We were only a small group, maybe five couples, and we were inevitably the only same sex couple. However, it seemed truly odd that a centre that prides itself on person centred care and cultural diversity should ignore me and R completely in so many ways. I have no doubt that as and when we arrive there ready to give birth, the midwives will be brilliant, and I am glad we have chosen the centre. But, surely it could be made more welcoming to the 'others' like me?

Alongside this, all magazines have 'daddy' pages, which I actually find really useful to read. They offer really handy tips about supporting someone who's just given birth. But once, just once, wouldn't it be nice if there was another mother on one of those pages too?

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 thoughts on Mothering Sunday

Here in the UK it is Mother's Day, or as my own Mum prefers to call it, Mothering Sunday. It does make it sound more spiritual, although it does make me feel as though we ought to mark it in church or something which we haven't done.

R and I sent our own Mothers' cards, and we also sent each other little 'mum-to-be' cards. It's funny to think that, all being well, by Mother's Day 2014 we will have a little baby of our own.

As those of you who have read previous posts will know, I started this blog to try and make sense of my role as the non-biological child that my wife, R, is currently pregnant with. We are 15 weeks pregnant today and contemplating how our lives will change. One of the wonderful things I have discovered about writing this blog, is how many people feel similarly to me. It has been fantastic reading comments and tweets from people sharing their very diverse experiences.

One thing that has become abundantly clear, and that I have found enormously comforting, has been that while I won't share the biological and birth giving connection to my child that my wife has, I will have my own bond with my son or daughter, she she will not have. We will have our own very special roles, neither one more important than the other. This has been a rather delightful revelation to me. So, no, the child won't have my green eyes, but it may well share my sense of humour. And while R will have the connection of breast feeding, I will be the one, while R is on maternity leave, that the baby will enjoy returning home from work.

Finally, this Mothering Sunday, I'd just like to take a moment to think about those who aren't mums and wish they were, or those whose mums are no longer with us. I always think this must be a very tough time for them.

But we're not infertile!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, at the beginning of the process we did look into having artificial insemination at a clinic. We would need to pay for it, but we reasoned that the expert care and experience of the doctors would be an advantage. In addition the sperm would be pre-screened and legalities would all be covered.

Simple yes?

We had high hopes initially, in spite of the letter that invited us to the 'Infertility Clinic'. It felt a touch negative, but we swept that aside and looked forward to finding out all about our options of starting a family.

We went in to see the doctor, who didn't even look up from his papers as he said "female couple looking for artificial insemination yes?" We sat down, a bit unnerved by his detached approach. He then proceeded to tell R all the many millions of tests she would need, some uncomfortable and invasive. This all seemed a bit like overkill. Surely she didn't need those tests unless we thought there was a problem? Apparently not. She was treated like every other woman who darkened his door, and that's not about his commitment to equality, but a reflection of his assumption that all women are the same. They are not.

We asked him to slow down and talk through exactly what each test was, what it involved and why it was necessary. Then, without asking, he booked R in for them. I could see she was already beginning to feel upset. This was not the happy, exciting open discussion we had been looking for.

We left, feeling that this simply was not for us. I hasten to add at this point that I suspect had we seen someone else or been to a different clinic things may have been very different. The things that clinics such as this are able to do for couples with fertility issues is incredible. Even so, I suspect they're not overly keen on being seen in the 'infertility' clinic...

So, we put the clinic on the back burner. We would revisit should we have trouble conceiving. We have been massively fortunate to be able to conceive with minimal medical input, but still, there must have been better way that appointment could have gone.