All grown up (me, that is)

Our little girl is doing really well, and already I can't believe how much she has changed. She has grown upwards and outwards, can hold her head up and even treats us to a smile from time to time. Our lives have, naturally, changed. But, I think it has changed for the better.

Last weekend we went to a fancy dress harvest bash at one of the baby groups R takes M to. As you can see, she fitted right in. In fact, I'm beginning to think that R only had a baby in order to dress her up. I write this while a CD of nursery rhymes is playing and deciding which park M would most like to be taken for a stroll in.

In a few days time I will turn 35. I was thinking earlier of my 25th and 30th birthday celebrations, and my life as it was then. And I have decided I am now, officially, all grown up. I am now married to a wonderful woman and living in a lovely house with my wife and daughter. I have the joy of doing a fulfilling job and coming home to my family and, thankfully, not having to worry where the money is coming from. I know, it's all a bit Pollyanna, but genuinely, I am appreciative of my lot. Having a new baby isn't always easy, but it is definitely worth it.

The new me

I've written a few times about the predictable cliches people come out with about having a baby. I have come to an alarming conclusion...

...they are all true!

So, let's get them out of the way: My life has changed beyond all recognition, I'm surviving on half my usual amount of sleep, it's hard work being a parent, I don't have room in my life for anything else at the moment etc etc. It is all, without question, wonderful, and I am very aware that while there are challenges, I am very lucky to have a baby at all. For some people, sleepless nights and poo-ey nappies are something unobtainable. I love my daughter, and can no longer imagine life without her.

M is 10 days old today and already my routine and approach to life has changed. Now, a few minutes to read the paper and drink tea while it is still hot is a rare luxury. My shower at the beginning of each day is something to savour, and at times, nights are something to dread. 

I think M is having a growth spurt at the moment. She is putting on lots of weight, and demanding feeds from R on an almost hourly basis. R is coping really well and now has the art of popping a boob out down to a fine art. She's only forgotten to put her top back up over her bra once so far...

I am lucky to be on parental leave for now. When I go back to work the routine will change again, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it. In the meantime I am concentrating on enjoying my daughter and looking after my wife. 

The birth of my daughter: how it all happened

Our lovely daughter, M, was born on Sunday evening. A simple sentence but it encapsulates so much more than that!

R had mild contractions throughout Friday night. By Saturday afternoon they were much stronger so we started to use all the hypnobirthing and relaxation techniques we'd learnt. R did a wonderful job of managing the surges when they came. After about four hours of this we went to the birth centre, a lovely midwife led unit on the edge of the city, with a focus on natural births and water births. We stayed for about an hour but were then advised to get some rest at home for a few hours because there was still quite a long way to go. 

Several hours later we were back and things were definitely moving along. R's cervix was dilating slowly. By 9am she had progressed into 'active labour' and was able to get in the pool, which helped enormously with managing the surges when they came. A good friend came to help out and I managed to get a 30 minute nap. I'm glad I did. 

A few hours later progress wasn't as good as it should be, so the midwife suggested breaking R's waters. She felt a bit reluctant at first, because it was an intervention that she hoped to avoid. However, we wanted to avoid R and the baby getting too tired, so we went for it. That was the moment when everything changed. When the midwife said to her colleague: "grade three meconium" my heart sank. This means that the baby had done a poo inside R, which can be a sign that the baby isn't very happy and might be distressed. 

R was put into an ambulance to the hospital, which is just three miles away. I had to drive there myself, alone, in my car with its empty car seat. I immediately reversed into a bollard at the birth centre, such was my worry and general state. I wept on the drive there, hoping to get my tears out before R arrived. I knew I needed to be calm and strong for her sake.

Once at the hospital, I called our friend back to offer us a bit of moral support. R was now in quite intense discomfort. The staff were wonderful and totally supported her wish for a natural birth but soon it became clear she needed more help. She had now been in labour for more than 24 hours and was exhausted. Progress was still very slow and the doctors wanted to put up a drip to bring them on. After a long discussion, she decided to have an epidural. It would allow her to sleep for a while the drip took effect. For a few hours after that we had some rest. It was a good decision in more ways than one because suddenly the baby's heartbeat started to drop. It didn't recover very quickly, so quickly we were surrounded by about eight people in blue scrubs doing lots of tests and asking questions. The baby was clearly in distress, and after a quick blood test they were able to do on her head (clever huh?) they discover her oxygen levels were a little low.

It was then that R was recommended to have a caesarian section. Once she'd said yes - and really for both her safety and that of our daughter it was the only answer - she was whisked away to surgery. I had a little cry and was then myself taken to get into scrubs. Because she already had her epidural she was able to stay awake during the procedure which was great. As I waited outside the theatre for her to be prepared, I prayed out loud. I'm not sure I've ever done that before. I was terrified, but also knew that I had to hold it together. Whatever I was going through, it was much tougher for R and the baby. 

Within just a minute or two of me entering the theatre and sitting by R's head on the other side of the blue barrier, I heard my daughter cry. The relief was a physical experience. I cried yet again. She was put straight into R's chest for skin to skin and I just sat there with my two girls, glad that the nightmare of the last few hours was over. It had been truly terrifying. 

Soon the three of us were in the recovery area. We spent an hour, just the three of us, only interrupted occasionally by staff checking on R and M. It was the first bit of peace and quiet we'd had for hours and was just incredible. We had come through almost 48 hours of labour and emerged with a healthy, happy baby. She even managed to breast feed for 40 minutes which was a massive achievement!

By about 11.30pm it was time for me to go. R and M were taken to the ward and I once again returned to my car. I was exhausted, emotional and relieved. I drove home very slowly, almost blinded by the tears. Home felt oddly empty and it was strange thinking of my wife and daughter in a hospital ward. I rang my dad and told him all about what had happened, although I'm not sure I was speaking in full sentences. 

I was now a Mama. 

My daughter is born!

News flash! We're having a girl!

At our 20 week scan, we found out that we're having a girl. We were thrilled with the news (although of course we would have been delighted with a boy too). So we are to be an all female household - imagine the hormones in about 15 years time...

It has been lovely beginning to get a sense of who our baby is, and we have been able to delight in looking at gorgeous girls' baby clothes. One slight disadvantage of all this though is that my mum has decided that she doesn't want to know what we're having. My parents have been staying with us this weekend, and every conversation seems to have a potential gender pitfall in it. It's been very stressful! I think there have been a few wobbles along the way, but I think/hope she is still in the dark as to whether we're growing sugar and spice or puppy dogs tails.

In reality we know that she will make her own way in the world, and I would like to think that her gender will not hold her back. I want her to feel free to be herself, wear whatever she wants and have the life that she wants.

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!

Guest post: Our family tree

I hadn't really given much thought to what our family tree will look like, but one of this blog's followers, Kate, has looked into it. Here, in a guest post, is her experience.


Having recently discovered this blogspot I thought I’d share a few discussions my wife and I have had over the past 3 years ( DD, will be 2 years next week). One of the elements of DD’s development we have spent hours thinking about is her identity.

With family history being en vogue we wanted her to have a family tree that was true to her biological heritage as well as recognising my role in her life. After all she shares my name so how about my family history and future?

We came up with the idea of building a family tree that incorporated three family lines, both her mums’ as well as her donor’s. Although there were times when it was tough for me to accept, she does have a fantastic donor she will hopefully see periodically throughout her life.

We gathered our own data and were lucky enough that our donor was also able to provide information dating back 2-3 generations that he was happy for us to have and share with our daughter as she gets older.

It has not been easy to try and put this together and it is not a particularly clean or tidy genogram but it will hopefully go some way to helping her make sense of who she is and bring with it an element of pride.

Of course another advantage we have with a known donor is that we are aware of DD’s half siblings. The plan is that we will all try and meet up at least once a year and the children will develop a relationship with one another. The other benefit being we have other lesbian mothers we can get support from although we can’t help looking out for little similarities in our children.



Thanks very much to Kate for sharing her story - both the easy and difficult bits. Have you created a family tree?

Donor etiquette...

I had an odd thought the other day...

Someone I know who is in a same sex relationship asked if me and R might share some of our conception experiences. I of course said yes - anything we can do to ease someone else's path. We were fortunate to have similar help from friends.

It was at that point I thought that we had the perfect sperm donor to recommend - as though I was recommending a lumber or something. A very odd concept.

What is the etiquette here?!

What does the donor look like?

No one has actually asked me directly what our sperm donor looks like, but I do know that my Aunt, once I had shared our good news, immediately called my parents and asked them.

She wanted to know his colouring, his build and, no doubt, his intelligence. There is, undoubtedly, something curious about having a child enabled by someone you barely know. Incidentally my parents replied that they didn't know and that it really wasn't relevant to them. Full marks!

If we had conceived through a clinic, the donor's appearance would just have been summarised on clinical notes, whereas we met ours on a number of occasions. I must confess to feeling very fond of our donor. For all sorts of reasons it would be impractical to be friends with him going forward, but in another life I can see how we could have been friends. That said, I do wonder if my fondness comes from his selfless generosity.

Fred (as discussed before, not his real name) is in a relationship and doesn't want children. He does however see the challenges some people face who want them, and enjoys helping them. He doesn't want a formal role in the child's life, and that is fine with us. Both R and I have very good male friends and are close with our own fathers, so our baby will have no shortage of male role models. In addition, he or she will have two loving parents who worked very hard to have a child. This truly was no accident. A lot of thought went into it.

So I'm not going to describe our donor here, beyond saying that he is a kind and generous man who has enabled our dreams to come true.

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.

So in this day and age it's easy to get LGBT children's books right?

We've been thinking through all the 'stuff' we're going to need for when the baby arrives. The life laundry has begun, and we're already saying farewell to surplus objects that seemed like a good idea at the time. Why we felt the need to have three spare mobile phones hanging around is a mystery to me...

I was reassured yesterday that babies actually don't need that much stuff, and in fact a lot of the perceived need is market driven. That is a useful thing to keep in mind. Facebook hasn't worked out I'm going to be a mother yet, so I have yet to have the pleasure of constant baby ads. The wedding ones last year were bad enough...

One thing we do want to do though is make sure we have plenty of story books for both our child and others that show other families 'like us'. Sadly, they are depressingly thin on the ground. I've had to resort to Amazon. One of my faves is Mommy, Mama and Me by Leslie Newman. It is American, as many of these books are - nothing wrong with that, although some of the references don't quite work. But finding a British one seems nigh on impossible. The most beautiful that I know is And Tango Makes Three, based on the true story of two boy penguins in a New York City zoo who brought up a baby penguin. There is a theatrical interpretation of that story at our local arts centre this weekend and we're really looking forward to going, along with some other LGBT parents and parents-to-be.

Delightfully, I have found that some classics have been reinterpreted - for example Goldilocks and the three bears who are now two mums and baby bear. But in all fairness, I could count on one hand the number that I found. Am I looking in the wrong place?

If you have any suggestions of books for any children under 10 which include LGBT characters, please, I implore you, let me know!

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.