First step – create a folder in your inbox labeled “Conception.”
Well, no. There are many, earlier, first steps, though this was the moment when the journey to have our first child began to materialize in a concrete way, changing from a future wish to a tantalizingly close prospect.
Thus, the title of this post is a bit disingenuous. I am four years beyond the creation of that folder. Two months past the birth and death of my first child. Back then, 2010, lifetimes ago, I was already anxious when I thought of how close I already was to that suddenly less-fertile age of 35, and how if I want to have a second child, I’d likely be in that nebulous, dangerous zone of 35-40.
But this chronicle is still about being a parent. In some ways, I’m already one, even though I’m waiting for our first “permanent” child to arrive. She has a name. He has parents who love him, who have planned, literally for years, for his arrival. She has grandparents already debating who gets first visitation rights and what they want to be called. He has cousins stashing aside hand-me-down clothes and promising not to “steal” “our” name. I know this, because our angel boy had all of these things, and he still did not survive.
Over the next few weeks, months, and years, I’ll chronicle our lives and how we came to this point, two women who fell in love, got married, and anxiously awaited the birth of their children. Well – and here’s the gay disclaimer – as much our own as is biologically possible when the child can, necessarily, really have only one of our sets of genes. This is a point about which I’m amorphously bitter, at the cruel nature that makes it possible to create babies in petri dishes, but not blend genes willy-nilly. Not that I would necessarily wish that this type of biological tampering was possible, but there are times when I think, well, it would be nice. I am not bitter at God for denying us the ability to have a child who is truly, biologically, ours. And though I am grateful that we live in times when this is possible, sometimes I wish I was just far enough in the future that scientists would be able to gratify my demanding desires. Sigh. Such is life.
Please feel free to come, and stay, and share, and comment nicely. If you don’t like what I post, please leave quietly. I won’t lie; I’m not interested in debate here. Isn’t that what Facebook is for? I’m looking froward to meeting you.