Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son

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What We’re Weeping Over, Sunday Edition

Have you already watched this? I’d seen it pop up on friends’ Facebook pages, but hadn’t taken the 4 minutes to watch it for myself until today. It’s from testimony in Maine concerning marriage equality.

“What do you think our boys fought for at Omaha Beach?”

For me? You fought for me? Oh, man, I’m tearing up all over again.

The old folks are all right.


so…which one of you is the man?

It’s not so PC to ask that question any more (if it ever was). Here’s what people say instead — Do you two plan on having children? Which one of you will have the baby? Then they usually look very pleased with themselves for having come up with such an open-minded topic.

Now when I say ‘people,’ I don’t mean my close friends. I mean colleagues, or people I’ve just met at parties, even the occasional stranger. This has been happening for years, since long before Baby Mama and I started talking about actually having an actual baby. As you might have guessed, it really pisses me off.

I have several answers to the baby question that I don’t say out loud. These are:
1) Do I know you?
2) It’s absolutely none of your goddamn business.
3) Will my answer help you decide which one of us is more gay?

I also have out-loud answers, which mainly try to head irritating conversations off at the pass:
1) Oh, we at least need to wait until ____ is done with ____.
2) Yeah, we’ve talked about it . . . Hey look, is that Elvis?

Quick! To the Batmobile!

Now though, _____ IS done with _____ . We are actually going to do it and we’ve decided that Baby Mama is going to carry the child. So sometimes I tell people that. When I do, they turn to me and say, “And how do YOU feel about that?” (dramatic pause….)

Wait a minute, you don’t look like my therapist.

The only way I can describe questions like these is as prurient. And what makes it especially annoying is the fact that the (straight) people asking get to satisfy their curiosity about how the other half lives while feeling magnanimous about recognizing my right to exist.

But the show must go on, so either I say that I’m fine with it (frosty smile) and maybe I’ll carry the next one, or the questioner suddenly solves the problem of lesbian fairness for herself by asking if we’ve ever thought about adoption. I prefer the adoption question because it lets me take the questioner directly to the land of straight guilt:

“Actually it can be really difficult to adopt if you’re gay. Some agencies won’t work with you. State law in some cases blah blah blah.”
“Oh,” she says, “that’s terrible . . . . Are you going to that concert tomorrow?”

But, since we are in Bloglandia here, how do I really feel about it? I don’t think I’ll really know until Baby Mama pops one out. Here are some things I think right now:

On wanting to be physically pregnant
I don’t. The fact that theoretically I could grow something inside me, change my body shape, then push it out and change back is kind of cool, but along the lines of how it’s cool to fly in dreams. I guess I don’t really believe it. Kind of like how sometimes I don’t believe in men. They’re just so unlikely.

On sperm
I hate that we have to use sperm. It’s like buying a stranger’s snot. I am, however, a realist.

On having a pregnant wife
I’m going to be less inclined to the whole ‘your body is a miracle’ kind of shtick. On the other hand, I know how having your period sucks. Things will balance out.

On wanting to be the biological mother
Here is where I get into territory where I feel worried. What if I don’t really feel like the baby’s parent? Or it doesn’t love me? Or I don’t know how to hold it? Or a thousand other things that might be solved by a biological bond? Normal new parent (or new dad) fears, I know, but still bothersome. And not something I’m going to dump into small talk with the office gossip.

I do think that it will end up being fine. Right now I feel some of the bizarre ennui that followed directly upon my coming out. I had heard all my life how gay people were abnormal, unnatural, lonely, sad, never had long relationships, and could only live in New York City (oh no!) because they would be ostracized anywhere else. So I worried about those things until I realized they did not apply to my life. I hope my baby worries will go the same way.

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I don’t have a kid yet…


No gay marriage for us in NY, because an embezzler, a domestic abuser, and a plain ol’ liar just had a coup of the state senate.

Don’t worry; they didn’t do it over any real issue. It’s just about money.

From the NYT:

But money also played a major role. Mr. Espada said he was angered that a top aide to Mr. Smith had threatened to hold up his legislative earmarks, known as member items.

Fuck you, New York. Guess Connecticut will get our money after all.


Just What Do You Think You’re Doing, Young Lady?

Every time I begin to write a “who we are” post, I realize I’m being defensive about our right to have children, which is a little crazy, since I’m pretty sure no one is even reading this. (Yes, I am that girl who imagines arguments in advance, spending subway rides perfecting rejoinders for remarks made by strangers who, in the actual world, have not given me a second glance, let alone disparaged my clothing/reading material/hairstyle.) We are ready, or as ready as anyone is. I’ve known I wanted to have a baby for many years, and Sugar Mama’s sure now, too. Our relationship is solid: we’ve been together for 12 years, 3 states, and one death-of-a-pet. Good times, bad times — all that jazz. While we’re not legally married (more on that another time), we’ve been everything-but for many years. We have insurance and jobs, and though mine is not so very remunerative, it does have a flexible, baby-friendly schedule. Sugar Mama is no corporate lawyer, but she makes decent money (hence the name). Even our parents think we’re ready, or at least they do when they step out of De Nile and towel off.

An actual conversation, coming out of a “you should wait until you have more money” admonition:

Sugar: Well, there’s only so long we can wait.

Sugar’s Mom: We waited a realllly long time to have you.

Sugar: Yes, and you were a year younger than I am now.

Mom: I was 32!

Sugar: And I’m 33.

Mom: No, you’re not!

Sugar: Mom, really. I am. Really.

After a long conversation and some long-distance carding, Sugar’s Mom was forced to admit that she had radically revised the age of her only child. (There are some lingering issues there, but we are confident they will be no match for Sugar’s Mom’s intense love of babies.)

…and maybe we should wait until we have more money. We’re doing okay, but we live in a very expensive city, and Sugar’s job has a hiring freeze that is also a raise-freeze. We don’t own a house, which is normal where we live but not for where we grew up, so it feels weird. I never figured I’d be an unwed mother, though I’m not so proud on that count that I want to risk 1000-year-old eggs waiting for this cake-sniffer to leave office.

Also, in case you missed it, the world economy just belly-flopped and we’re all going to die of Bacon Fever.

Perverse as this sounds, I think the economic apocalypse is what pushed us from the “maybe someday” camp into “leggo my spermcicle” mode. It was a big reminder that no matter how much you try to build your house on the rock, there is no rock to build upon, only different kinds of sand. (I’m sure the adorable baby I’ve been hanging out with for the past year and the recent announcement of a very close friend’s pregnancy has Nothing To Do With It.)

Be sure to tune in next time, for the story of my bionic lady-parts. (With pictures!)