so, here is a primer on our journey as a fambly: i took part in the second and third blogging for lgbt families day, with great joy and trepidation. in the former entry, i mused about what it could would maybe possibly be like to be a family, as h and i navigated the murky waters of gay family planning. our children were hopes then, far away stars. and if they ever became flesh, would we do right by them?
in my latter contribution, i was on the cusp of motherhood, sixteen days away from giving birth to one judith marguerite. as i considered the myriad emotions of imminent motherhood, i came to the conclusion that the bigness of it all was universal: i was about to be a mommy to a newborn, our family was beginning. we were no different than any other new family.
only, we were. in the ensuing months, h and i worked with our (wonderful) lawyer to ensure our family’s protection within the great state of texass. we signed our names to contracts over and over until our wrists hurt. wills. medical directives. donor contract. and then the big one: adoption.
i will be forever grateful for the existence of second parent adoptions in our particular county. and i am relieved that, on paper, h is unequivocally our daughter’s mother, even though current law prohibits her name from ever being on jude’s birth certificate. however, what will forever chafe me is the fact that, as we nested together as a new family–discovering the rhythm of motherhood and babyhood–we were often interrupted by the presence of a social worker. our social worker is a good woman, and worked as our advocate, but still. in the middle of such an intimate, sacred season in our lives, we had to spend afternoons answering questions about our deepest and darkest selves. even as the biological mother, i was not spared the background checks, the questions about my past, my family, my mental health.
several thousand dollars and six months later, we were finally recognized as the family we already are.
i’ll let you in on an insane little secret: we’re about to do it all over again. the money, the paperwork, the invasion of privacy, the standing before a judge. all of it. because these two formerly kidless mamas, who, three years ago, hoped to be parents one day, are about have a second child.
as i round the corner of being a mother for two years now, i return to the overarching theme of so many blogs being written today: aside from the weird extra steps i’ve taken to ensure the protection of my family, i don’t see myself as any different a mother than my straight counterparts. my days are full of learning the ways of a mercurial toddler, worrying about whether she’s eating enough veggies, wondering how we’re going to afford to keep her out of public school, and staring slack-jawed as she learns to count and discovers her first sight words. and we think about her little brother, due in just over three months: who will he be? what will he look like? will he have an easy birth? what will the relationship look like between brother and sister?
h and i are co-parents and partners and lovers and best friends. at the end of each small glorious day, we spoon together and confess our squishy-hearted love and mama-bear fear for our children. we try to recall our life before them, and find ourselves not missing a damn thing but the sleep and maybe some extra time to lounge about lazily. we’re so very content. so very blessed. so very awake to all the life happening in our home.
our contentment, blessing and wakefulness are a force field around our family. the ugly parts of the world can’t touch us. we are fambly. we are whole.
[note: if you are new to the blogging for lgbt families event, do click on the badge at the top of this post for a list of all entries. there are so many stories that should be known. thank you.]