Set Back

I’ve not had near my fair share of misery in life, being gay and in Utah and all :-). But, on the topic of becoming a parent, I’m already well into self-indulgent territory, and I did mention a “setback.” This period of “expecting” contains some of our greatest joys, the indescribable sort that could make any challenge worth every bit, and by astronomical units. And Hey, I see a fellow blogger is going through one such time right now!

But there were those trials, for the eventual ends to soothe. I can’t really say the whole process was much more difficult in the area of building a family than it is for a great many couples, but it was the last time I actually sobbed (not cried though, those who know me will tell you I cry over my family, or sappy media too often :-)).

Something happened during this period that I can’t talk about in full in such a venue. Sadly, though, the incident’s only record is found roundabout in cold forms that certainly can’t give it near the proper weight from our perspective. I want to write it out, a bit, while I’m on the topic. It needs something more, and the kids, if they eventually read this, will understand in full.

We had what we now euphemistically refer to as a setback. We knew this could happen when we began our efforts to become parents. It wasn’t extraordinary. The occurrences around it were, in full, something greatly the odds in our particular case, but the single result that really hurt was not near enough uncommon for any couple hoping to become parents by any means. To only go through it once I should count ourselves as blessed.

I think I said before, in this period of our lives, it was as though everything hung in suspended animation, anticipation for parenthood. It did; everything was about her, him, or them, having no idea for whom we’d become parents. That was near all we thought about, all we talked about, all we read about and prepared for.

It seemed all was going well too, but then we got this call, and we were asked to come in and sit down. We were told where our world was focused there was next to no reason for hope. We were back to square one, just like that. Rob went to tears at the news, as was reasonable, but I didn’t. I knew, right then so clearly, I had the other job in this union; over the years I had taken on the role of the other sort of personality.

Thinking on it, it really is how I now react to any threat to my home, be it direct, person to person (or coyote to person :-)), or merely from an odd sound in the house at night. Without trying, I switch off emotionally and go on automatic, be it in either brainstorming solutions or meticulously hunting through the house. Sometimes though, that’s completely the wrong way of handling a problem, and, for those instances, I rely on Rob. It’s funny how, in a couple, certain jobs are there for the taking, no matter the couple’s makeup. Division of labor works well and, gay or no, people gravitate into the roles that best compliment the union. I have mine; Rob has his.

So that news hit me like a kick to the chest, but I put the feeling away, put my arm around Rob, and went into that now familiar mode. I looked up at the bearer of bad news, somberly shot off my questions, and took our notes. What exactly happened? What to do now? What’s best? How to avoid this? What next?…

After that we went for a long and needed walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ll never forget that feeling: just the two of us, together and both far more down than we’d ever known the other to be. We were wounded and moving amongst those tourists. We were walking, and moving on from that loss, planning, regrouping, pushing and pulling each other back up. It was clear we were alone in that city at other’s reaction to the news, and that actually felt like a bit of perfection in the problem. We should be alone, in such an instance; the tourists and the joggers and even our friends shouldn’t touch it. We didn’t even call family until the next day. It was he and me, always R and me. There are potent times in a union when it’s as though you can’t feel yourself anymore; you feel as a couple, and this was one of those times. We didn’t even need to say it. I knew where he was and he knew me and we knew we’d repair and push on; I could feel it even then as substantively as I could sense him next to me in that cold fog on the Goled Gate Bridge.

But we got this piece of terrible information, telling us there was no hope left where near all our hopes were set, and I didn’t stop to feel the whole of it. My mind was, again, to fix it, to make sure all the details were handled. For our situation, I even needed to put on a smile and upbeat demeanor the very next day (if you’re reading this, boys, ask me about the flags; I'm sure time, by now, has made it a funny story). Anyway, we did fix it, to the extent it was possible. We picked up the salvageable pieces and put it all back together and started again the very next day. And it all worked out, and wonderfully, beautifully, miraculously, magnificently.

Still, this happened. It’s a part of us, a part I hardly ever talk about but it’s something I carry around with all the other extremes of our lives. It’s a low point I guess I want to carry around.

About two weeks after this all happened and parenthood was inevitable again and back on track, I was on the phone with a friend. I explained to her the events and she pushed the issue, poking into my feelings on the matter. I was philosophical about it; I diminished the event into "whatever will be will be", but she could tell I was blocking. She pushed until I broke into tears myself, finally. I had to swallow the emotion too soon and I finally let myself feel the event and it hurt and it was absolutely cathartic at once. Once Rob got home I found him and let it all go. We were okay, he was okay, the problem was as remedied as possible, and I finally realized I could give up. It’s good to keep some really pushy friends about :-).

Looking back on that day now, it really is strange how you can, after so many years, still miss something that was never there, never possible. It’s stranger still that I can be simultaneously and eternally grateful that we have had that “setback”. If not for that, we’d have suffered the even greater loss of where we are today. And, in a way, it feels worse that we’d never have known or felt it.

Humans are odd things…

Parenting for Base Pairs

After going over the tests we had to pass to become parents, a study came to mind, of course :-) (1). It looked at only heterosexual couples. 41 procreated by ivf (in vitro fertilization), 45 by AI (artificial insemination), 55 by adoption, and 43 by normal procreation.

Not only did they find that non-biological parents parented up to the standards of biological parents, they found that the quality of parenting in such families was higher than average. When observed and questioned with standardized tests, the parents were found to be more affectionate and more involved in their children’s lives. They concluded: "Findings suggest that genetic ties are less important for family functioning than a strong desire for parenthood", and "the quality of parenting in families where mother and father had gone through great lengths to become parents was superior to that shown by mothers and fathers who had achieved parenthood in the usual way".

Now, this may strike many as common sense. But, once, when I mentioned this study, I was told, in a hysterical font ;-), “So what are you saying? We should take children from their biological parents and give them to more motivated parents?!” This was a person promoting the “Ideal Family” argument against gay unions (as gone over in too much detail here, here, and here). His argument was that parents parent best for biological children and that’s why he believed a man and woman with their biological children is the ideal family. By showing him evidence that biology wasn’t the key to parenting, he wrongly assumed I meant to do to others what he meant to do to us. Fortunately, I'm not as keen on legally harming other's families as “non-ideal” as he was ;-).

This study absolutely does not show a biological connection to a child somehow makes a parent a worse parent. That would be a highly ridiculous conclusion. What this does show though is that there is not a detectable deficiency in the parenting of non-biological parents. Furthermore, it shows there are positive effects in all the trials a couple must go through if they need help becoming parents.

The reason for these results should be clear. With each additional test, more and more high risk couples are weeded out in the process that otherwise would do so if in fertile unions. Taking out those with a criminal record alone helps a lot, I’m sure, but add on everything else. The teenager who has a one night stand and ends up surprised to be a daddy, for example, has far worse odds of doing it well.

Now, of course, most fertile couples have the capacity to past all these tests, and they are every bit as ideal ;-). Even those who could not pass may be among the most skilled parents, and children who were not planned may be among the most fortunate in family. I’d simply not want government involved in family through something like a procreation license; that would not only be unethical by my measure but it would be government self destruction. Nevertheless, when you need help, and/or there’s a child in another’s custody, already there and looking for a home, you will and should be judged. Those individuals who come to your aid have rights too and they will reasonably have requirements, an effect of which is shown in the above mentioned research.

Simply, the nature of human parenting is not that focused on genetics, and thank goodness we’re not all slaves to Darwin. If you’re a biological parent, think about it. If you discovered tomorrow you’re child was somehow not genetically “yours”, would it lessen your love one bit? If I can extrapolate from our experience, for near all parents--adoptive, traditional, gay, straight, whatever--when you see the person who you know will be your child for the very first time, none of that is on your mind. You, in fact, feel you became their parent even before they took in their first breath, before you ever knew they existed. That was your purpose all along and it was tied to that particular person; genetics or no.

What is on your mind is your future with that individual, your responsibility to them, the pure joy of being a parent, and the choice you’re making to be bound to that particular child. Even if a child is your biological offspring, you’ll not be forced into being dad, papa, mom, or mama by the most important meanings of those words. You only get such titles if you earn them, work for them, and you must choose to either take on that enormous task, or to simply be a stranger who may have donated genetic material and maybe a monthly check of support.

It’s the person who deeply wants a particular child, and has invested their life into having and raising that child with their health and happiness above his own, it’s that person who will be more likely to parent them best; that person is the ideal parent for that child. There are no other parents who can be brought to tears in gratitude by the wonderings of their little minds. No one else remotely knows them in the same detail. No one else comforted, cajoled, taught, fed, dressed, rocked, and ran them to the emergency room (as I did yesterday! No worries; just a trip resulting in a split chin and, eventually, as I assured Alan, a cool scar he can show his friends).

Plainly, while there is biology needed to form and gestate a fetus, there is no substitute for the personal choice to become a child’s parent. And there is no privilege greater in our lives than having that ability to make that choice, regardless of biology, regardless of orientation.

Reference:
1. S. Golombok, R. Cook, A. Bish, C. Murray, Child Development, Families Created by the New Reproductive Technologies: Quality of Parenting and Social and Emotional Development of the Children, 66, 285-298 (1995).

To Become a Parent

A while back Mark mentioned the lengths his brother went through to become a father, here. It hit home. For infertile couples it takes a lot of effort and dedication. Sure, some such couples become parents by surprise, suddenly given custody when friends or family die or give birth and ask them to take the child. I’ve known that to happen, but that is a rare case; there are next to no unwanted or unexpected children in our homes.

Once we decided to become parents, we did a lot of study, and not only in worrying over the research on the possible consequences. There was a lot to learn about how best to do it. That alone could become numerous posts, but, simply here, all such couples need help. This fact complicates but, to us, it was far from a negative; I’d actually count it as one of those hidden blessings in life, and one of the greatest. Some of the most wonderful relationships we’ve had and some of the most amazing examples of human compassion we’ve experienced came in those many people who helped us along the way. It certainly changed me and taught me in many positive ways.

But help means consent, as it should. And consent from good and decent people means caution and trials, again, as it should. Among the trials we had to pass:

--Numerous psychological evaluations from start to finish; a detail of our mental history, counseling etc. We had to actually be in weekly contact with a psychologist.
--Criminal background checks for the both of us.
--Character references from friends and family.
--Many questionnaires asking about everything from our extended family to whether or not we smoke (we don’t :-)).
--We had to write out and give the agency a full explanation of our parenting plan: how we’d parent, discipline, who would do what in the home, and so on. We had to have that all worked out before we became parents.
--Disclosure of our financial records.
--Full physicals. Tests for likelihood for early death and creating orphans, from cancer screenings to STDs.

I’m sure I’m forgetting something; it felt more trying than that ;-).

Now, depending on the people who help, less or more of such may be required, but one should expect to pass many tests. One should also expect not only trials given by fellow humans but trials of time and mind and heart that may be much larger in scale than they are for the average. We were lucky, but had two years of dedicated and very focused effort, and a set back that hit us hard in many ways. There will simply be no reckless heated minute of passion in the backseat of a Camaro for gay couples wanting to be parents :-).

All this, of course, can have an effect on the couples who do become parents. But I’ll save that for the next post.