How to bring on labour...

Three days overdue and still no baby. So, I thought I would share with you all the means by which we've tried to kick start labour...

Curry (three curries actually) culminating in this evening's one - pictured - that made beads of perspiration gather on poor R's forehead. 

Raspberry leaf tea, which R has been drinking by the gallon. We don't have a tea strainer so she has delicately been draining it through a giant sieve. 

Dates - six of them every day. If they don't bring on labour, they certainly keep one regular...

Yoga - in particular, poses on all fours which involve hip circling. Disconcerting to come into the living room to. 

Induction massage which will include pushing and pulling and acupressure (or something). 

A sweep - this does not involve a brush of any kind much to R's relief. 

Walking everywhere. 

I'm sure there's something I've forgotten... 

My baby was due today and...

...and no, the balloon didn't go up. When we woke up this morning R and I decided we needed to do something out of the ordinary otherwise we might find ourselves waiting.

We spent the day at a music festival locally, which was great fun. Lots of music, meeting friends, eating spicy food. Fabulous. Perhaps the pumping baseline and chillies might have an impact in the coming days. 

Tomorrow, assuming nothing happens overnight, I'm back to work in the bizarre situation of not having scheduled meetings because of impending parental leave. And then R and I will go and see the midwife, who will let us know what position the baby is in, which I always enjoy!

 

Waiting for the call...

Every day this week I have been on tenterhooks. Every time R texts or calls while I'm at work, every time she sighs or puts her hand to her tummy, I'm prepped and ready for action, adrenalin doing what it does best - making my heart quicken. 

So far no drama though, and I have been reminding myself that just 5% of babies come on their due date, which for us is Sunday. 

It's not just me - I rang my mum a couple of days ago, and I could hear the expectancy in her voice as she said hello. So now, at the beginning of all calls with our nearest and dearest, both R and I start with "nothing to report yet"... 

Indeed I had a text from R saying: "Can you call? (Not in labour) xxx"

Top 10 things I've learnt as a mum to be

Avid readers will know that R is now 39 weeks plus 2 days pregnant. Sunday is the due date, which means that almost certainly Sunday will be spent impatiently waiting for something to happen only to wake up on Monday with baby bump still in situ. However, I thought I would take this opportunity to share my pregnancy learnings, before the new chapter of parenthood begins:

1. No one quite knows how to deal with a mum-to-be who isn't pregnant. At work last week someone felt it appropriate to ask me to 'explain again' how it is that I will be taking maternity leave in the next few weeks. It surely isn't that hard to understand - let alone same sex couples, what about all the couples who adopt?!

2. Being the non-pregnant partner can be quite tough. You get a lot of the emotional baggage of becoming a parent, without society's natural sympathy which is directed to pregnant women. 

3. More people than you expect will ask 'how did you do it?' We've almost always happily answered this question to hopefully demystify the process. Again though, it really isn't rocket science.

4. Everyone's an expert. No, really, they are. Even if they haven't had children, they will tell you exactly how pregnancy is, will be and what parenthood is like. 

5. Cliches become part of a depressing routine: get sleep now while you can; your life will never be the same again; you'll go to work to relax; if she's born on time she'll be oldest in her school year; you'll never get a full nights sleep again...

6. Horror stories are de rigeur - no one ever tells happy and uneventful birth stories. They always feel the need to share the horrific, dramatic and terrifying, conflating blue lights, sirens, drips, doctors, forceps, surgeons etc etc ad nauseum.

7. Babies need an inordinate amount of stuff. We now have a whole room full of what can only be described as 'baby equipment'. You start getting competitive with other parents about which buggy you choose. The fact that we've *not* opted for a travel system appears to be something of a political statement. 

8. Moving house seven weeks before the due date should be avoided at all costs. Ok, so it was the right move and we now actually have room for a baby, as well as a garden. It was worth it, but was by far the most stressful house move of my life. 

9. After a certain point, if you are in the pub (even having an innocent shandy), without your pregnant partner, you are teased for being irresponsible and 'leaving her at home'. She's pregnant, not ill!

10. The biological stuff means very little. When I set up this blog it started off by dealing with the fallout of me not being biologically linked to my child. It felt like a big deal to start with. But now, all those months on, I feel without question I am this child's Mama. The donor was just that, a donor. And while I am grateful for what he did, it is me who has supported R through the pregnancy, will sit by her side in the birthing suite, and bring up our daughter. Parenting is about proximity. 

I kid you not - the things you learn as a mum to be

No one tells you about perineal massage...

...yes, that's right, it's a thing. 

And there's a handy demonstration video too: 

 2:05► 2:05

www.youtube.com/watch?v=DK2P8Ziqc6Y

Babies are *so* controversial...

I'm not quite sure how it has happened, but we much now own about 20 pregnancy/baby books. People have been keen to share with us their personal favourites, which has been lovely, but of course they all give different advice. In fact one book that has divided opinion just in the last couple of days is one about the Gina Ford method. Basically, this is about routine, routine, routine. In the space of 24 hours one couple has raved about it, and another person has pretty much disregarded it!

And as for car seats versus travel systems versus prams versus iso-fix... My head it spinning!

Time for a babymoon.

Yes, it's true, a 'babymoon' is a thing. What is usually a holiday and occasionally a honeymoon is called a babymoon if you do it just before your baby is born apparently.

We're off on Friday to somewhere suitably warm and continental to celebrate our last sunshine and lounging in the sun holiday before the baby arrives. R will be 27 weeks pregnant, so our last chance to fly before the magical 28 week cut off when airlines refuse to take pregnant women in case they pop in mid air. Or something like that...

I'm really looking forward to our week away. We've already started talking about next year's holidays, which will be a very different affair, for all the right reasons. For now though, I am looking forward to sleeping, drinking, eating, reading and generally enjoying peace and quiet. 

And yes, I *know* I should enjoy it while it lasts - that's the point!

Top ten comments on discovering you are expecting a baby

When you discover that a friend is expecting a baby, what do you say? Think carefully, and then read the comments below. These are the ones that R and I now have stock answers for...

1. Well, that will change your life forever. Yes, marvellous, thank you for that, we hadn't realised...
2. Is it a boy or a girl? We don't know yet.
3. Will you find out? Yes, but we don't mind either way.
4. Well, make the most of any sleep you get now, in a few months you won't get any. Excellent, that's very helpful. Thank you.
5. When is it due? September.
6. Did you have IVF? This is one for those of us who don't have an obvious man in our lives. The answer is no.
7. Ooh, children are a gift aren't they? Yes they are. But I am not sure I need to hear that phrase ever again.
8. Let me tell you about my traumatic/unpleasant/painful/tragic childbirth story... No, please don't.
9. To R when she is feeling ghastly: Oh you look really well. Nope, she's not, she feels like death warmed up. Thanks though.
10. Will you move to a bigger place? No - having a child is hard work enough without moving house too. 

I am tempted now to refer everyone to this link. Yes, I know I sound churlish. In fact I am totally guilty of some of the above myself. Perhaps we could come up with some alternatives?

The fear...

Are you expecting a baby? Is your partner expecting one? Or perhaps you are soon to adopt a child. Whatever your scenario, at some point you will come across 'the fear'.

It began quite early on for me. Our lovely two bedroom flat is already a bit of a squeeze, and in order to fit in a baby and all the ensuing detritus, we're going to need to either move somewhere bigger or do a life laundry. In order to prevent nervous breakdowns all round, we have opted for the former. This all sounds perfectly reasonable, but of course pregnancy is nature's way of setting a ticking time bomb that you have no control over. We have just five months left now to sort out our lives. Hence, 'the fear'.

'The fear' is that hot sweaty sensation you get in the night when you realise you have no idea where you're going to put a folded buggy.

'The fear' is the moment that people ask which nursery you will use - yes, apparently we should already know this.

'The fear' is that growing sensation that nothing will be the same again.

I am slowly learning that I will not be a perfect parent, nor indeed is it possible to be one. With this lesson, 'the fear' gets smaller, although I will no doubt still wake up in a cold sweat tonight about whether or not to get a bumbo seat...

What's in a name?

A phone call last week:

Me: hello mum, I just thought you'd want to know that me and R have chosen our names for when the baby comes. Do you want to hear them?

Mum: Don't you want to keep them secret until the baby is here? I feel a bit superstitious about knowing names before he or she is here...

Me: no mum, we've not even got that far yet. I mean the names for us, what the baby will call us!

This is something that most straight couples don't go through. Yet, for us, people often ask us what we will be called, and in turn, we ask other same-sex parents what they do.

We had several options, including:
1 - just being 'mum and dad'. This was swiftly discounted as it could confuse the child, and perhaps other children too. I do have a strange fondness of the 'dad' name though, although I feel faintly disloyal about that...
2 - being 'mummy S and mummy R'. This seemed a bit long winded, and a bit too contrived.
3 - being 'mum' and 'mummy'. This felt too similar.
4 - being 'mummy' and 'mama'. To start with I wasn't sure. But then I realised something... Children always say 'mama' before mummy, and so the baby will say my name first! In addition, I have decided that if the child ever says 'dada', I'll claim that as me too.

Ultimately, at some point, my son or daughter will make their own mind up about what to call us, regardless of what we choose, and so much the better!

Mood swings anyone?

Pages of pregnancy books are devoted to the emotions of the mother-to-be and some of the challenges she can face. She is dealing with the enormity of the forthcoming arrival of parenthood, worries about the baby, physical symptoms of pregnancy and, of course, hormones. They are right to devote those pages. The pressure on pregnant women is immense.

What is very rarely discussed is the emotional impact on the other partner. In one of the pregnancy books we've got, there's a section on how the father-to-be might get a bit worried about the impact a new baby might have on his cricket and football playing, and going down the pub with his mates... Personally, I can't relate to that, although it did make me smile. More recently though I've begun to have my own stresses.

Will I be able to provide for the child?

Will I be a good enough parent?

How will we ever get our home ready in time for the baby's arrival?

How can I support R best?

If R is in a bad mood, is it a failing on my part?

This is supposed to be a happy and exciting time. Why am I so stressed?

Which all leads to guilt!

R has definitely had moments of being tearful, snappy and perhaps *whispers* irrational. But she's not alone. I have too. I think it is safe to say that *both* R and I have been able to tick off quite a few of those pregnancy emotions.

Not so long ago I read that depression and anxiety during pregnancy is more common in mums than postnatal depression. I can believe it. But I think it has a further reach than just the pregnant party.

What's DNA got to do with being a parent?

It wasn't until I was expecting a baby to which I will have no genetic connection that I realised how obsessed we were as a culture with biological inheritance.

For example, how often do you hear phrases like:

• She looks just like you...
• Oh he doesn't look anything like his dad does he?
• Well they are your flesh and blood after all
• And blood is thicker than water...
• Oh he takes after his grandfather

I'm sure that I have uttered all of the above - which is shameful because apart from anything else they are all such unoriginal cliches (but I digress) - without even thinking about it. 

I know rationally that of course I will be bringing up mine and R's child as its mother - or Mama to be more precise. But, will I ever legitimately be able to see myself in him or her?

A friend recently reassured me about this, having been through the same experience. Indeed, I am sure many step parents can relate to this too, although the dynamics are different there again. She reminded me that ultimately a child's behaviour, outlook on life and future are down to their upbringing. Yes, there are genetic predispositions, but it will be my actions that will have every bit as much of an impact as R's.

One thing I never worry about is whether I will love my baby. Ten years ago I worked with children with special needs who needed respite care. It was a chance for them to get away from their parents, and a chance for their parents to have a breather. I remember one particular afternoon spending time with a boy of 12 who had very severe learning and physical disabilities. His communication consisted of being able to demonstrate that he was happy or not. I spent an afternoon watching television with him and trying to make him laugh. It was a couple of days before Christmas, and I remember very strongly feeling a real connection with him. His home life wasn't always as good as it might be, and I recall simply wanting to take him away from it all, and thinking how proud I would be of him were he my child. That had nothing to do with biology.

So, what *do* you do when the sperm donor comes round?

The first time our sperm donor came over to our home to make his donation, we ran round tidying up and anxiously tried to work out where he would like to provide his sample. It was a toss up (apologies) between the spare room and the bathroom. We got our special wide rimmed specimen pot ordered online ready and sat on the sofa nervously.

When Fred (not his real name) arrived, we talked slightly nervously, before asking where he would like to 'do it'. He opted for the spare room. We gave him the plastic container and watched him disappear down the hall. The door shut and there was silence. In fact there was far too much silence. What if we heard him 'donating'?! I immediately put on a CD and R went into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher, wondering if we should have provided him with some 'reading' material.

After about 15 minutes Fred re-emerged, having left the sample on the bedside cabinet. I offered him tea and a biscuit - I felt it was only right. That's what they do when you give blood right? He declined the offer politely and went on his way, wishing us luck.

It was at this point that the technical bit started. I was in charge of the sperm, so I collected it and wrapped the pot in tissue. It is important it doesn't get too hot or cold. It is best when left for about half an hour. I suspect this is deeply scientific, but don't ask me why! Then, well, it's about insertion. The most important piece of equipment you will ever need is a sense of humour...

We were fortunate to get pregnant after just a few months. On the last donation Fred apologised for there being 'less than usual'. I immediately reassured him that it was still infinitely more than I would be able to produce...

Why I'm mama, not mummy

This is our little teeny tiny baby, cosy inside mummy's tummy. We had our 12 week scan today. It was incredible. It's amazing to think about how well developed it is already, even if it is only 7cm long!

But today I wanted to write a bit about why I started this blog. I will be mama to our little tot when it is born, although I will have no genetic link with him or her. This won't make me any less of a parent. In fact, in the eyes of the law, all is good. Both mine and R's names will be on the birth certificate.

However, this is all about so much more than legal status. I will become mama to a little baby in the Autumn of 2013, but when I looked around for resources for other women in my position, I struggled to find anything. Look online and there is heaps of stuff about how to get pregnant, different options for parenting, how to legally protect yourself etc. But there is very little about people like me. The 'other' parent. There is no one to talk to about those late night worries which include:

• I have more of a genetic link to my sister's child than my own
• People might judge us for choosing not to have an active father present
• Will I be a good enough parent? (ok, fair enough, all parents go through that one!)
• If people see me with the baby and assume I gave birth, should I correct them?
• Will I be able to pass on valuable parts of me through social interactions alone?

This is not an exhaustive list, but it gives you a general idea. Generally, rationally, I can answer all of those fairly easily. But, still, there is a lack of support out there. So, this is what my blog will be about. Finding that support.

Back to the beginning

Me and R knew even before we got married that we wanted children, so it was simply a case of working out how to do it. We had several options:

1. Pay for artificial insemination at a hospital, using 'anonymous' sperm. I use parentheses because at 18 any child conceived with donor sperm in this way can still get in touch with the sperm donor.
2. Ask a friend to donate sperm to us without taking on parental responsibility and inseminate at home.
3. Use a third party website to identify a local sperm donor and inseminate at home.

We both knew that R would be giving birth, so I took the decision initially that I would prefer option 1. It seemed the most 'scientific' and legally protected. However, after an unpleasant appointment at the 'infertility clinic' (in spite of no evidence of infertility), and a potential cost of £750 a go, we had a rethink. How hard could doing it ourselves be?

So to option 2. A friend had flippantly suggested to me that he would be willing to help some months before. I went back to him in the cold light of day to see if the passage of time and sobriety might have made him think better of his offer. It hadn't. So we started to plan how it would work. Several months later though he felt unable to continue for personal reasons. It was a real blow. Not his fault, but it definitely brought home to us how much we wanted this child, and how invested we were in the process.

And finally... Option 3 was the one I was least keen on. Basically, it felt like just getting in touch with a stranger and asking him for sperm. It felt odd. I changed my view though after speaking to a friend who had done just that. She pointed out that it wasn't that different from the clinic option, if much cheaper and less exact. We'd have full control over the donor, and as civil partners we'd have legal rights as parents.

So option 3 it was. We set about putting together a profile. It was a whole step into a different dimension to online dating, although there were definite similarities. For example, when we'd found someone we thought we liked and had exchanged photos, we arranged to meet. Inevitably it was in a public place - a cafe. Somewhere safe. This was as much for his benefit as ours. There we sat, teapot full, expectations high, and in he sauntered. Thankfully he looked like his photo, and not like some weirdo. Not of course that looks have any correlation with weirdness. But I digress... We had a lovely chat and resolved, by the end of it, that he could be our sperm donor. 

The whole process from option 1 to 3 took us about eight months. It's at times like that I question people who say gay parents cannot provide for a child. We have to work so much harder and think about it so much more to become parents in the first place!

The sleepless nights begin early

No one tells you that the sleepless nights begin almost as soon as you discover that you are pregnant.

In December 2012 R and I found out that we are expecting a baby. This wasn't a complete surprise as we have been trying since September 2012. However, given that I am also a woman, and we have employed the services of a sperm donor, we figured it would take longer than it has done. I will come back to that process at a later date...

Since we've found out, poor R has succumbed to the somewhat dubious experience of what is, flippantly, termed 'morning sickness'. The initial excitement has now been replaced by me trying to offer R dry crackers, and her rolling her eyes, which now have bags under them, and looking as though she's going to be sick. As someone who has always been very healthy, the fact that she has spent the last few weeks virtually bedbound thanks to nausea and dizziness is something of a shock to us both.

I have become more of a house wife than I ever was, now finding myself in charge of all cooking and domestic tasks. When I'm not trying to find something she'll eat without wretching, I'm fetching her a mug of water that is at the precise temperature that she can swallow comfortably - that is luke warm. It is good to feel useful though. For the first few days, I was wondering what my job was going to be in the next few months as R did all the important growing stuff.

With R feeling so unwell, I have abandoned my usual heavy sleeping routine for a very light sleep that means I wake up every time she sighs or shifts in any way in bed, in case she needs me to do something for her. I know that once the baby is born we'll have our fair share of sleepless nights, but suffering sleep deprivation this early on I was not expecting!