So how about an update for those of you interested in any or all of the above.

Natalie happily tells me

we opened in April we hit 100 women pregnant on New Year’s Eve, I have set a target of 200 for next year as we have looked at opening a third centre in Manchester

Opening a new clinic is wonderful news for lesbian all over the UK and congrats to all involved for making it such a success story.  How amazing to think 100 women (and partners if applicable) have had their dream of parenthood come true.

On the Family Pride event she says

Family Pride Festival for this summer is also going well, we’ve already sold just over half of the tickets.

The team are working hard to drum ups sponsorship in the UK as well as promoting the event in America.  If you know of anyone interested in sponsoring this weekend, contact them on the site.

You can check out the site here.

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We decided we would be happier if we met the donor, got to know them and felt comfortable with them.  We thought we are enterprising enough to find someone who ticks all the boxes.

Although the couple had several replies to ads looking for donors they felt none were appropriate for them.  Thus came their idea for a egg-for-sperm-swap.

Elisa calls the swap an “altruistic, reciprocal gift of life” and I have to say I really admire their thinking.  After all, both couples would be in similar situation and, therefore, have a deeper understanding of what exactly they are signing up to.  The couple have had a few responses to their new ad, Andrea adding

There are hundreds of women out there who need eggs and all these gay women who need sperm, this is an ideal arrangement if you can work something out with the right people. That said, it does have lots of complications as well.

I think all of the methods of same sex parenting have complications, this one however does seem like it could work out for both parties.

In New South Wales the law states that any child conceived via a donor has the right to know who their donor was once they reach the age of 18.  This has an obvious effect on the entire notion of donation and has seen a decrease in the number of donor gametes in the region.  At least if Andrea and Elisa find a suitable couple they will both be agreeing the same thing and neither side will be put off by the idea of their identities becoming known after the 18 years.

Good luck to you ladies from everyone here at Gaelick Towers, we hope you are successful in your search and have a very happy and health family.

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we pride ourselves on offering you the best connections, advice and support from conception through to the complete parenting experience

Sounds like exactly what so many couples out their need.  People who have been there, done that, and know exactly what is needed.  Natalie was kind enough to speak to me and answer a few questions on the new clinic, here’s what she had to say:

You have two beautiful children, what made you want to open up your clinic and how is it different from the one you used?

We used a service that cost us £1700 to match us with a donor that we then met in a hotel and made arrangements for when we would start the process of trying for a baby through AI.  We decided to open the centre so it would be a safe environment for women to meet donors rather then them making arrangements to meet at their homes or pubs/bars.   Our centre is different as I set it up to help same sex couples with every aspect of starting to try for a family, tests that should be carried out, equipment to use, legal questions and paperwork that should be completed prior to conception.  We would then like to keep in contact with the client throughout the pregnancy and after the baby is born they can start to attend our Gay Family Network group which enables same sex parents to meet up once a month with the children and talk on an informal basis and chat about how they are finding being parents and arrange day trips out to different locations.

Why did you make the decision to have your clinic “gay-only”, was that a difficult choice to make?

We decided to help same sex couples as it is the base of our knowledge being gay parents, we believe there is a wealth of information and support for heterosexual couples, whereas the information for same sex couples is limited and lots of companies are unwilling to help without charging fees.

Is there a max no of times you allow your donors to donate, and if so, have you checked that they have no previously donated elsewhere?

We do not keep a database of the donors as we are a contact service so we do not get involved with how many times a donor has donated and who he has donated to.  The men and women register on the site for free and register their profile so that others can search for what they are looking for and make contact with each other about where they go from there.

If a couple has a child using one of your donors, can they come back to you in a few years to have another child with that same donor?

This would be between the man and woman to decide as we do not make any of the arrangements for them.

Do you allow single gay women to use your service or do you cater solely for couples?

The service is available for single women as well and is not exclusive for couples.

Many women worry about the legalities of sperm donation and the rights a donor may have to have a relationship with the child.  What can you say to put their minds at rest on this important issue?

We work very closely with ‘A City Law Firm’ who offer a free consultation via our website so they can talk through the legalities of a sperm donor.

As a couple who have successfully had a family through this method what one piece of advice would you like to pass on to other women?

Make sure that you have your donor tested for STI’s and draw up a contract before conception. I would recommend that they meet the donor in a public place on the first occasions and make sure he is definitely what you are looking for in a donor as this will make up half of your child.

I have to say it really does look like a wonderful service and Natalie and Ashling have thought of anything a couple might need to make the process as safe and comfortable as possible.  To be able to walk into an office that sees you as a loving couple that wants to start a family and talks to you both equally must be a great relief to many lesbian couples who have decided to have children.

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Try this on for size. Every month we try and time it correctly, I have “symptoms”. From the first day. Which is impossible since pregnancy really begins with implantation and that doesn’t happen until at least day 6 normally.

But the symptoms are real. I have stomach pains and my breasts hurt. I get dizzy randomly, while my mind is totally focused on something else. I am not consciously making up these symptoms. I am sub-consciously making up these symptoms. That’s crazy.

I also just spent 8 euro on a “conception reading” on eBay. While all those who know me pick themselves up from the floor, allow me to explain that I am generally anti-psychic. I figure a couple of things:

1. They’re probably not actually real. As in, I don’t really believe there’s anything to it. OR

2. If there is, it’s probably best not to mess with it.

But apparently, I’ve lost my mind entirely.

Anyway, I have the prediction. I’m to conceive in March this year. No point testing next week, I suppose. Or trying in February. What a relief!

I’m also to conceive a girl in September 2012 (assuming the world doesn’t end). The one I’m conceiving in March is a boy. I should email her about her fixation on gender. I’m just not that rigid. I wonder if she can tell me if they’re gay?

I also have a deceased male person with the initial J, apparently, who is telling the psychic this stuff. That sounds reasonable. I mean, a lot of names start with J. Except I don’t know a single male with that initial who has died — even counting relatives I didn’t know, like grand parents. At a stretch, she might have mixed up G and J. Who knows?

So, yes, I’m crazy enough that I spent 8 euro on something I knew would be total rubbish and subconsciously create pregnancy symptoms before they are even biologically plausible.

Baby-craziness exists, and I am living proof of it.

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photo by Karen Byrne

Glenn Cunningham and his Brazilian husband, Adriano Vilar, have lived with uncertainty for over two years.

Vilar was on a student visa and had to have it renewed often. Each time they applied to have it renewed, they risked it being declined, and Vilar would have been required to leave the country.

As a condition of the student visa, Vilar was only allowed to work 20 hours a week, which made family finances a bit tight, especially when his English and Business school tuition had to be paid every year as well. And although they had celebrated a civil partnership in the North, they had no standing to keep him in the country if his student visa was declined.

It almost sounds like a plot by the Irish government to make sure that the non-national partners of Irish gays are the best educated people in the country.

On Thursday, Ireland formally recognised marraiges and civil partnerships from 27 jurisdictions as civil partnerships under Irish law. While this is certainly good news for many, for those living at the mercy of the Garda National Immigration Bureau, it’s a kind of relief that is difficult to express.

Last year, Glenn and Vilar celebrated their relationship with a civil partnership ceremony in the North, and had a party at a hotel in Tallaght with family and friends. On Thursday, Irish law began to recognise foreign registered same-sex partnerships as Civil Partnerships.

Glenn and Vilar not only had their civil partnership recognition reported by the Irish Times, but Glenn told us today that his 5 year old daughter went to school on Friday as proud as punch, telling everyone.

My daughter [...] is so proud. She went to school on Friday telling everyone her dad and her step dad (that’s how she calls him) were the first ever.

The grooms, their daughter Mollie and Glenn's supportive parents, Seamus and Annette.

[Civil Partnership legislation] excluded those with children in a disrespectful thoughtless way.

Having said that, I’m glad we’ve begun with the civil partnership as it is. It’s easier now to move forward, and with a recognised civil partnership between a couple, courts will look on it differently.

I do know its not full equality, but our commitment is seen as the same [by friends and family].

Now we have a solid secure foundation, where we can plan our lives. we are now part of society in a way we have never been.

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I recently caught up with a relative I haven’t talked to in several months. My big news was that I’d been made redundant. “Oh,” she replied, “So you’re a full time mammy now.”

I breathed deeply and didn’t get into it. But I’ve been a full time mammy since I first held my son. At no point has this been a part-time gig, a sideline or a hobby. No one is a little pregnant, and no one is a part-time mother. Whether one has paid employment across town or in a home office, whether one is out of the paid workforce by choice or circumstance, whether one spends all the child’s waking hours engaged in stimulating educational activities, sits parked on the sofa watching tele or volunteers 12 hours a day for worthy causes, if you have children, you are a parent all day every day. (Not necessarily a good one, mind you.)

When I was working in an office for pay, I was every bit my son’s mother every minute. Did anyone think that if they crèche rang to say he’d fallen off a chair and broken his arm, I’d say “Okay, I’ll be there after work when my shift as mammy starts, but I’m not his mammy until 5:00 pm.”

So why do we use these terms? Full time mammy, career woman, working mother, stay at home mother? Heck yes, every mother is a working mother. And every woman with a child is also more than a mother. Mother is one component of an identity, like daughter, sister or (ahem!) father. But despite the decades of feminist effort, we still seem to like to classify women according to their reproductive status.

To really make it fun, we rank them. But this is where I get really confused, because a ‘stay at home, full time mammy’ is good, right? She’s put her children ahead of her career and made them a priority. Go good selfless mammy! And a ‘welfare mother’ is bad, isn’t she? She’s too lazy to work, a parasite living off handouts. Bad selfish mammy! But um, aren’t they both home with the children with their expenses covered by someone else? (Please note, these rules pre-date the recession by decades.) Is there some distinction I’m missing other than class? If an educated, middle class woman becomes pregnant, we congratulate her and ask if she’ll keep working. We don’t say, shock, horror, you’re not going to live off your partner now are you? You’re not going to be a kept woman, you lazy sponge? Ha, so you decided to scam some money from the child benefit! If a woman with less money and education becomes pregnant, and doesn’t take paid employment because what she would earn doesn’t cover the cost of safe and reliable childcare, what exactly is society’s reaction? (Insert your own rant about the minimum wage and/or cost of childcare here.)

So there, in the space of a couple of weeks I went from being an educated, professional woman to a ‘full time mammy’. But really, I’m now a welfare mother. While I’ve been grappling with own issues there (identity, phobia of social welfare office, occasional bouts of feeling humiliated, exhaustion from chasing a toddler all day every day), my son is remarkably clear. I’m just mama, plain and simple, as I was before and always will be, all day, every day.

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just like having our Charlie back…We’ve got the next best thing to him and it’s not a secret any-more. I’m absolutely delighted. He did it for a reason and he has left a legacy

I have to admit that upon first reading this story I felt that taking a sperm donation from a nephew is a bit odd, a bit close to the bone.  However, reading his mother’s words makes me see that something like this can bring bring a family even closer together.  Finding out your niece and nephew are biologically your grandchildren might send some people into a spin but Charlie’s parents acceptance, and indeed excitement, over the news is heartwarming.

Official sperm donors must be aged between 18 and 45 but since Charlie was an unofficial donor (which is not illegal) no action will be taken.

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I’m making a list and checking it twice.  It will include toys that are not naughty but nice for my son.  I’ve consulted with Santa, and we agree he would enjoy a play kitchen. I have been forced to point out to Santa that the offerings in the shops are largely unacceptable.  As ever, my eyes sting from being accosted by so much pink.  Really, I’ve never been to a house with a pink kitchen, why must the toy makers churn out so many?  I got all excited when I first glimpsed the Tefal toy kitchen, only until I saw the price tag.  Then I read the details and saw it had a working tap.  Yes, there in the photo was running water.  What kind of sick joke is that?  Ha, ha, suckers, you paid €100 for this and now you need wellies to wade through your own flooded kitchen to pull your giddy little chef away from it.

Santa and I had discussed a doll, but have decided that at two, my son isn’t quite old enough.  Besides, he recently learned that it is NOT okay to lift an actual baby, so now at the slightest suggestion of babies, he looks worried, shakes his finger and says ‘baby, no, no, no.’  Inviting him to carry one around, toy or not, would seem just twisted.  Next year.

What he is NOT getting is clear.  A pre-snow visit to the park involved a sighting of the most disturbing child I’ve ever encountered.  As we walked toward the gate, a four-ish year old boy charged toward us, dressed head to toe in camouflage army gear brandishing a toy assault rifle.  I am anti-gun.  Very anti-gun.  I’m not opposed to colourful water pistols, but why teach children that the toy version of something that kills is fun or cool or in any way desirable?  Little Rambo pointed the gun at us and his demeanour suggested it was a very, very good thing it was a toy.  I know nothing about guns, aside from the fact that they are used primarily to kill people and animals, but I’ve seen the real version of this one on the news, mostly in coverage of Iraq.   I’m not personally down with playing soldiers, but okay, if he was just in army gear, or even if he had a toy regular rifle, I might have been able to resist the urge to scoop my little bunny up while giving Rambo’s mother the most deliberate dirty look I’ve ever beamed at anyone.  She was pushing a little princess all in pink in a stroller.

That mother may regret embracing such OTT gender extremes when they are teenagers and Rambo is in anger management therapy and princess’s bill for hair care exceeds the family’s mortgage payment.  I am hoping that in another dozen years, I’ll be complimenting my darling on the dinner he made for me as we clean up together.  (Hey, he’s still getting serious mileage out of his pink broom and it’s Christmas, I can dream!)

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Generally I am a very anti-tele sort of a mammy, but the other night my two year old and I had dinner glued to the television news and stayed there for the Taoiseach’s 7:00 pm announcement.  Since the Greens announced their plans that morning, I had been thinking it was now high time to take to the streets.  (Well, 2008 was high time to take to the streets, but that’s another column.)  We’d have to head up to Dublin in the morning, surely half the nation would have the same plan.  Now, where did I have some cardboard.  Short slogans are best, maybe just ‘election now’.  Wait a sec, we.  WE.  Could I bring a toddler to a demo?  Would it be scary or would it ground him in a family tradition of speaking up, really participating in democracy, which will serve him well growing up in a very non-traditional family?

Years ago, upon hearing a bit about my childhood, a friend gleefully pronounced I had been a ‘real red nappy baby’.  I loved the term, but I’m not so sure.  Yes, I did my school work at one end of the table while Daddy made placards or organized his trade union literature on the rest of it.  I clearly remember my mother solemnly bringing me to the polls on election day and explaining how people had suffered, even died, so we could vote.  As an adult I’ve learned to rein in the cutthroat debating style that defined our family dinner conversations.  Discussions of foreign policy and workers’ rights were far more vigorous than even the battles over which vegetables we had to eat in exchange for what post-meal privileges.  But my parents never brought me to a demonstration of any sort, not even when I begged or cried.

But in the gay, lesbian, bi and trans community, we’ve learned that visibility is critical.  People often stop hating us when they see, hey, it’s US, their cousin, doctor, neighbour, best friend, work colleague, mechanic, etc.  Gay and lesbian parents are so often invisible in society.  Being seen, literally seen, with our families has been important.  I’ve seen many LGBT parents with their happy tots in tow enjoying Pride and marching.  If that is setting a positive example to our children by taking to the streets, I pondered if and how this current crisis, which will hurt all the children of the nation, is different.

As I tried to clarify to my two year old that dinning in the sitting room did not involve jumping on the sofa, his eyes flashed to the screen.  It was footage of a demonstration.  Police were shoving riot shields into people; everyone was screaming and shouting.  “It’s okay, honey,” I shovelled a spoonful of lentils into his mouth.  “They are very angry, but everything is okay.”

I recalled an image from an anti war demo I’d been to in Dublin maybe six years ago.  Everything had been calm, organised and peaceful, but then something sparked.  I didn’t see any reason for it, but suddenly the riot police who had been lining the street were grabbing people.  A young couple frantically shoved their stroller past me, fear naked on their faces as people moved aside so they could beat the panic and get their child to safety.

Clearly, I can’t bring my son to a demo.  He is of the generation that will pay for the mess we’re in, but the danger is too great.  I am deeply angry.  I want to teach him to stand up for what is right, not to cower in fear.  As part of a queer family, that is a critical skill for him to learn.  Okay, he’s two, so there are a lot of things we can’t do right now.  But when is it okay?  When exactly is someone old enough to risk a baton in the head?  The other image from that anti war demo I will never forget is seeing the police carry a boy of maybe 14 or 15, then drop him from waist high onto the pavement.  His head bounced off the kerb, knocking him unconscious.  They walked away leaving him in the gutter.

I can’t put my child in danger.  I will not bring him to a demo during this crisis.  Equally, I cannot raise a little sheep to blindly believe government press releases, nor do I want to create a cynic who sits at home noting the horrors of the day and saying nothing.  Long before he arrived, I’d thought about how I’d talk to him about safe sex, about drugs and peer pressure.  As a bisexual mother, I knew I’d teach him how to confront bullying, how to speak up in the face of bigotry.   But I’ve got some thinking to do about how to teach him about rocking the boat without falling overboard.

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Crowdsourcing

This is getting pretty tedious. I mean at first, it was a little bit interesting. There was stuff to learn, cycles to track, temperatures to take.

Now, it’s getting annoying. Trying to co-ordinate my body’s schedule with the schedule of our sperm-donor is — at best — awkward. At worst, it’s almost futile.

The more socially unacceptable side of me keeps thinking I should try and find a donor anonymously on the internet. A Twitter account would be all I’d need to find the sperm donor of our dreams, right?

But, local is a huge plus. Co-ordinating schedules is less of a mess then. Then again, local would freak me out a bit as well. Would seeing the child on a regular basis make him decide he wants more involvement than we agreed? The law would be on his side.

And I’m unlikely to find another guy I trust as much as I trust the donor we have right now. But I’m going to have to try.

Going to a clinic would be an option, but we really could stand to keep the money that it would cost. IUI — when we priced it years ago — was €1000 a go. Given that it’s not like each try is a sure thing, that gets awfully expensive.

And so I’m sitting at my computer, very tempted to sign up to Twitter and say, “Got sperm?” and see what happens. Of course, that’s insane.

We’ve been a little tight lipped about what we’re trying. Personally, I’m not that bothered, but my partner is more cautious about things and I respect that. But what widening our search might mean is bringing more people into the experience. Putting the word out.

God my life is weird.

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From guest writer, Zemama:

I wonder if Sandy will have any problems dating?

Sex and the single mammy – it’s not much of a question, is it? It’s 2010; I trust we are all well past the notion that mothers are frumpy, asexual creatures… well, aside from my own, of course. In the early months of motherhood, most mammies – gay, straight, partnered or solo – are too exhausted to enjoy a night out or even a night in. But once baby is sleeping through the night and you’ve adjusted to living in a house that looks like a toy store after an earthquake with piles of laundry towering over you, it starts to feel different.

I felt burnt out on dating and the whole scene years before my son arrived. I said with complete sincerity that I did not give a hoot if I ever saw the inside of a nightclub again. I said I’d rather listen to a baby screaming through the night than endure another evening of insipid get-to-know-you chit chat with someone who turned out to be obsessed with her ex.

I was mistaken.

So now what? Getting a sitter is the easy part.

Years ago, when parenting was something I wanted to do someday, I dated a mother. She was overjoyed to find someone who wasn’t scared off by her children’s existence. She was so overjoyed, she brought her children to meet me before I felt ready. In a matter of weeks, I was Aunty Zemama, reading stories, wiping noses and holding sticky little hands as we strolled around the zoo. I fell for them much more than I did for her, and the ensuing disaster was no less painful for being so predictable.

Frankly, I’m afraid of meeting someone as baby hungry as I was years ago, someone who won’t be willing to put the brakes on her U-Haul. I’m afraid of being the one behind the wheel of the runaway U-Haul. Clearly, these are very optimistic fears. Dykes are not queuing up at my door. I’m equally afraid that women will run for dear life upon hearing I have a toddler.

When do you tell someone you have a child? ‘Hi, I have food in my hair because I have a toddler’ is not much of a chat-up line. But throwing a jacket over your car seat and hoping she doesn’t notice is not exactly a sign of robust good mental health. I suppose the question of when to come out as a mammy is a bit like the question of when to come out to work colleagues – when it feels natural, when an opportunity arises.

My son is two. He’s got more than a decade to go before he will be allowed to date. And he won’t be joining me on any dates. Telling someone about my son is a very different matter than telling my son about someone new in my life. No child needs adults coming and going. It undermines their sense of security if people are allowed to get close to them and then disappear.

I’m not into martyrdom as a part of motherhood. I’d like to go out on the scene again. I’d like to go out dancing and have a few drinks and flirt. I’d like to meet someone special, but she’ll have to be a very patient someone. She’ll have to be gracious about taking a backseat to a rather small tyrant and understand that while all may be fair in love and war, children are non-combatants.

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A lesbian couple in Australia have learned they are expecting a set of quintuplets after using an American sperm donor to conceive. Yikes! Melissa Keevers described her feeling as one of “shock” upon hearing the news: “It took me a long time to get my head around what was happening. But now I’ve come to terms with it, I’m excited.”

While her Irish girlfriend Rosemary Nolan is also delighted: “People don’t know whether to congratulate us or commiserate but we think it’s a miracle and we couldn’t be happier”.

Since one of the members of the couple is an Irish lady they’ll be grand – sure we’re well used to massive families (ask any Irish granny about the 20 children who shared a one bedroom house if you have 4 hours to spare).

Of course the real lesson in all this is to beware of American super-sperm. With a future full of an estimated 70 nappies per day, 5 carseats to buy, 5 cots, a shedload of formula and a specially imported pram, there’s an expensive road ahead of them but I wish them all the luck and happiness in the world. It’s delightful to see a lesbian couple welcoming five little lives into their family with such joy and it’s wonderful to see it so neutrally reported in the news stories so far (even if the original story in Australia’s Women’s Day looks a bit trashy magazine)!

Congratulations to the two ladies and may their offspring be happy, healthy bouncy babies who cry minimal amounts! Perhaps they could form some sort of circus troupe!

If you have any ideas, thoughts, comments or feedback, please do contact us by either commenting or dropping us an email

Related articles by Zemanta

• Lesbians beat 60 million to one odds to have quintuplets (theprovince.com)
• Lesbian couple pregnant with quintuplets without IVF (telegraph.co.uk)
• Lesbian couple expecting five babies (theage.com.au)

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If I wanted to impress people, I could tell them I decided to buy my son a toy broom to help develop his proprioceptive system, which as we all know (cough, cough) is critical for the ability to memorize abstract shapes required to learn to write.

But that would be a big, fat lie.  I decided to buy my son his own broom when he picked up the kitchen brush and swung it round above his head so it nearly plopped into the dinner I was cooking on the stove.  My little darling is a one-boy demolition crew and thought it was hilarious to stick the broom in the bin and then swing it up to the counters and table.  Bonus points for anything knocked off either surface!  So out I set on what seemed like a perfectly simply errand to purchase a toy broom and minimise the damage while encouraging a healthy interest in cleaning.  (I am pretending that encouraging his toddler love of cleaning will pay off when he is older.)

Who knew that in this medium-sized provincial town, home to several shops selling toys, my quest for a toddler-sized broom would be so frustrating?  I visited shop after shop, trawled through miles of toys, but never saw a single broom.  Heaven help the junior-infants class of 2013 and their precious little proprioceptive systems.  Finally, I stumbled into the news agent/ grocery/ toy shop that time forgot.  If it were not for the signs advertising mobile credit, it could be 1980.  And they had a broom…. a lone broom … a pink and purple broom.  I saw red.

In this day and age, how can society still be so backward as to colour/ gender code toys?  This was not my first brush with the insidious sexism of the world of toys.  Before my son arrived, I had decided that no way would I bring my child to a toy store that labelled the aisles by gender.  Yes, literally.  Big signs specifying ‘boy’s toys’ and ‘girl’s toys’.  Just typing that makes me want to lie down in a dark room.  I huffed out of the shop determined not to participate in such idiotic gender indoctrination.

Further searches confirmed that this pink and purple specimen was, in fact, the only toy broom in town.  Meanwhile, I was running out of places to hide the broom at home.  I debated.  I fumed.  Then it dawned on me.  I have a son.  A boy.  Getting a daughter this broom would be teaching her that cleaning was feminine, reinforcing ideas that would stunt her self-esteem.  But I wasn’t getting it for a daughter.  Heh, heh, heh.

My son is delighted with his pink broom.  He proudly pounds it on the floor next to me when I sweep.  He screams ‘no, no, no’ if the cat dares touch it.  I am quietly hoping that pushing his little pink broom will develop his ability to see through plain old sexism as much as it helps him develop his ability to follow and track abstract shapes, helping him to write and eventually become a renowned brain surgeon, and maybe even an anti-sexist daddy.  Today sweeping, tomorrow the laundry!

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I was chatting with a colleague last week, comparing notes about our adorable little ones, when she asked ‘do you have any friends who come over at night?’ Huh? Then she said it ‘I don’t know how you do it. I go home and have my husband to help with the baby. Don’t you have anyone come over in the evenings to help you?’ I’m getting used to it, but there is a fine line between acknowledging that single parenthood is bloody hard work and acting like raising my son, the greatest joy in my life, is some sort of tragedy.

I am not divorced. I did not have a crisis pregnancy. I am an educated professional single woman in my 40s. I carefully considered how I would parent solo, and I had my son after years and years of concerted effort. He is the result of deliberate planning and hard work, not the result of personal crisis or loss. None of it has been easy. In my first year of motherhood, I cried a lot. Some weeks, I cried every day. But I’ve never laughed so much in my life. I’ve never felt such joy or such passion for anything or anyone. I’ve never had so darn much fun.

Everything is a trade off. Many of the people who marvel at my ability to prepare a proper dinner every night (okay, most nights) find time for a couple hours of tele every night. I’d waaay rather read Everywhere Babies or I Am A Bunny than watch some tele family’s silly drama. I’ve traded a lot of unfulfilling, time wasting activities for the joy of sharing Christmas morning with a child (my child, every year), for the wonder of deciphering his first words, for the rush of love when he crawls up on my lap for a cuddle. I was on the far side of 40 when I became a mother, and that means I had decades to go clubbing and take holidays. I did, and I enjoyed that. But no way does sitting in a crowded bar having beer spilled on me compare to the joy of parenthood. (But in the interest of full disclosure, I have to say my clothes have been doused in far worse than beer since my son’s arrival.)

Yes, it is hard. But for me, being childless was much, much harder.

Even attachment parenting experts Dr. William Sears and Martha Sears, RN had a totally irrelevant go at single mothers in their Baby Book, which was updated in 2005.

“Our hearts go out to mothers who by choice or by circumstance begin their parenting careers without a mate.” (My emphasis)

Really? You acknowledge an adult made a choice and still your heart goes out? The book is full of useful advice, but the good doctor can shove his heart right up another part of his anatomy.

My heart goes out to women who stay in miserable relationships thinking it’s best for their children. My heart goes out to women who cook for and clean up after both their children and their partners. In fact, older married straight mothers are the people who have been most reassuring. I’ve been surprised at how many of them bluntly told me that really, aside from finances, they were pretty much parenting solo.

The most sensible comment I’ve had came from a little neighbour boy who was very curious about my son. I explained a bit about our family of two in an age appropriate way, and he smiled and said ‘I bet he makes you real happy.’ Yep, he does.

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Five days ago, Jennifer Aniston released a (by all reports) mediocre film about a 40 year old woman who decides to have a child by artificial insemination. It’s called Switch.

Cue the traditional family apologists. Didn’t we all go through this in the 90s with Murphy Brown?

In response to Jennifer Aniston’s film concept:

“Women are realizing more and more that you don’t have to settle, they don’t have to fiddle with a man to have that child,” Aniston said. “They are realizing if it’s that time in their life and they want this part they can do it with or without that.”

[...]

Aniston even engaged in one testy exchange with a reporter who insisted that her movie character was being “selfish” having a child without a father-figure in her life. Minutes after the question was asked, Aniston circled back and insisted that family life has “evolved” from strictly “the traditional stereotype of family.”
from PopEater.com

The NY Post’s cock-inspecting Andrea Peyser rants:

So, the nuclear family is a “stereotype.” And your beloved dog Spot has been replaced by whoever happens to be hanging around your immediate sphere. With that ringing endorsement, women everywhere reached for the baster. (Hey — Calista Flockhart, Sheryl Crow, Jodie Foster and Murphy Brown did it. In heels!)

Then, a funny thing happened on the way to the artificial-insemination clinic. I hear a backlash.
from NYPost.com

Get your ears checked honey.

Even the woman you quote in your article wouldn’t touch your argument with a 10-foot straw man.

Peyser uses Mikki Morrissette‘s story as a cautionary tale (you’ll end up lonely and broke), seamlessly segueing to stereotypes about the offspring of single moms (pregnant girls, boys in jail).

When Mikki gave birth to Sophia, now 11, she was a six-figure Time Inc. editor who owned a Manhattan one-bedroom. But New York “was just a very expensive place to live as a single mother.” Also lonely. So after 18 years in the city, she returned to her home state of Minnesota. A guru to single moms, she never lies about the perils.

The statistics are oft-repeated, but too often rejected by the Hollywood crowd who wield their out-of-wedlock children like trophies: Daughters raised without fathers are more likely to get pregnant as teens. Dadless boys are more likely to wind up in jail.

Mom’s money doesn’t change this, but it helps pay for rehab.

The problem? Ms Morrissette argued the opposite point several years ago.

The quick version of what “studies say” about single-parent homes is that its boys end up in jail, its girls end up sexually promiscuous, and that high school dropout rates are high. What the quick version doesn’t mention is that this often has more to do with divorced/abandoned homes when household income drops substantially. And that generally this involves parents who are depressed, narcissistic or otherwise lacking in the ability to sustain a nurturing and attentive environment for their children.

A child born into a Choice household is not torn apart by divorce. Many Choice Moms make upwards of $60,000 a year, own their home in a child-friendly neighborhood, and do not experience the emotional upheaval of a downward economic slide.
Huffington Post

A rant over this topic ensued last night when my single friend collected her (happy, healthy, confident) sleeping toddler from my living room last night. I told her what I was writing and what had been written. She, too, underscored the difference between women who “drift into motherhood” and those who consciously choose it.

For most women, the choice to have children is not a choice but the non-choice. If you’re straight and not celibate, chances are that you will end up pregnant. And since Irish women don’t have abortions (*cough*), pregnancy inevitably leads to a child, wanted or not.

A friend of mine told me that when she gave birth at 20 (unplanned, but welcome) she was shocked to be handed an infant at the end of it all.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting,” she said,” a puppy maybe?”

I’m not saying she and her boyfriend have not been excellent parents. But you have to compare the situation she would be in if he had left to the home where a woman has made a conscious decision to bring a child into her life.

She’s saved up the money, looked into childcare, done the expenses. She has either completed an extraordinary journey through adoption screening, or she has found a way to get pregnant without a male partner. All of this requires big planning. And she has done it without planning to be reliant on another primary care giver. She’s assessed her crucial support system.

Society loves to shame those it believes should not be parents. Natural biological urges are the privilege of only straight, partnered, wealthy people according to people like Peyser. Nobody else should deign to bring a child into the world. Hey, those kids might blast their unfounded arguments into tiny little pieces, and who would want that?

(if you do, read on…)

My mother did so many things right. She was devoted to me. She was more interested in discovering who I was than in molding me into any preconceived image. Her parenting style was relatively hands-off, trusting me to make choices that would aid me in my own process of knowing myself.

An advantage to the way I grew up is that I never witnessed my parents fighting. As far as fears some have that a guy like me will grow up overly aggressive, or less analytical, because of the lack of a father in the home–it doesn’t make sense. I went to a competitive prep school, and graduated Phi Beta Kappa from college as a computer science major. There are a lot of stereotypes about single parenting, and it seems as if we’re all clumped into the same category.

My mother means the world to me, and me to her. I think that had I been raised by two parents, that bond would logically be decreased by half.

I don’t agree with the idea that men do some things better than women, and vice versa–the idea that you need a man and a woman to balance the parenting. People are complex. One person can do so many things, in many different ways.

source

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2. Pride. It’s not shame.

I was working and I got that distinctive cramp in my side. I’d also had a tell-tale temperature drop that morning. I rang our donor but he was busy that evening. We made plans to go ahead a bit early and go the next morning. However, if I actually ovulated when I felt that pain, the next day was far too late.

It seems the consensus is that the egg, once released, will last 6 – 12 hours. Rhythm method people will warn you could still be fertile for 48 hours afterwards, but on the pregnancy trying end of things, the recommendation is to inseminate before ovulation or right when it happens. We were 24 hours later. So unless I have particularly long-living eggs or on the off chance my ovary released two, we’ll be at this again next month.

It’s not a big deal. We have enough friends who have tried for years that we’re certainly not surprised by the learning curve and won’t be surprised (but will be disappointed) if we get a Big Fat Negative in a couple of weeks. It’s all trial and error. And when you find yourself syringing a bit of pre-seed into a specimen jar and handing it to a friend, you can be forgiven for not knowing exactly what you’re doing. They didn’t teach this in school.

We did, however, take a bit of time to ourselves just after it all, and I can’t tell you how much that helps. Sometimes it feels like I’m doing this myself and maybe she feels like I’m going it alone too. I tend to live in my head a little bit. But just taking some time out to be together is just what the doctor ordered. After all, if this all goes to plan, we’ll have a little one in our family. And that little one will need us to be as happy and sane as we can be.

Since we’d timed it all wrong, we had a hotel room booked for the wrong night. So we enjoyed a night in a hotel, ordered room service, watched telly and just relaxed together without any of the distractions of home. We’d planned to be so civilised about it. Hotel room, some relaxing, the lot. I won’t go into how the whole thing actually went down, but if a child has been conceived, it will make for a great (and mortifying story) many years from now.

Anyway, that night, Friends was on the hotel telly. It was the episode where Rachel has her baby and Joey doesn’t really propose, you know that one. Well it’s also the episode where Monica and Chandler decide to start trying for a baby. They sneak into a hospital room and as they start things up, Monica stops and says, “Oh, wait, do we have a condom?”.  It’s funny ‘cos it’s true.

One of the strange things I’ve found is trying to get my head around trying to get pregnant. One of the impressions teenaged girls (and it’s not like that was yesterday) are given is that it’s very easy to get pregnant. Too easy. I think we are very well programmed as teenagers (well, some of us are) that pregnancy is the worst thing that can happen to you. Pregnancy will ruin your life. Whatever you do, don’t get pregnant. And it can happen really easily.

And, well, some of that programming remains. I expect it will stop as I realise just how hard it is to get pregnant. It just might take a while.

Oh, and we ended up using the Soft Cup method after all. Dead easy. When I practiced with water I used way too much. I’m in the middle of the 2 week wait right now so we’ll know soon if we got lucky this first time. I’m not optimistic, but next month I should be able to anticipate ovulation better than I did this time around.

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When you find these sites, it’s like a whole new world out there — complete with their very own dialect. It’s intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, but infuriating when you want to just pop in and read everything quickly.

Some of the most common expressions are:

BD = Baby Dance (sex)

BBT = Basal Body Temperature

2WW = the 2 week wait (the period of time you have to wait before you can take a test)

BFP = Big Fat Positive (what we’re all hoping for)

BFN = Big Fat Negative (dreaded negative pregnancy result)

DPO = Days Post-Ovulation (eg. I’m 12 DPO and I got my BFP)

TTC = Trying to conceive

(and my favourite:)

POASA = Pee on a stick addict (women who use a lot of ovulation and pregnancy test sticks!)

There are more, of course.

It’s like a whole other world.

At this end, preparations are well underway. It’s our first attempt. I’m trying to think of it as “practice”. It hasn’t stopped me being irrational and emotional about it.

At the advice of some people who commented, I’ve purchased some Soft Cups. After further research, I’ve purchased some Pre-Seed as well.

Soft Cups are a disposable menstrual cup product that sit very near your cervix. They’ve become popular for people who are TTC because if you insert one after inserting the semen, it holds the wee swimmers right where they need to be and you can go about your day. Anecdotally, there seems to be a huge advantage to using them. If you google Soft Cups and fertility, you’ll find story after story of women who’ve managed to conceive finally using  Soft Cups. (lots of BFPs)

Some people worry about inserting them. It wasn’t a big deal for me, because I use a menstrual cup for my periods anyway. I did find the Soft Cups looked huge and intimidating, but were actually easier to insert and remove than my usual cup. I’d been planning on using my menstrual cup in the same way, but now I realise it doesn’t sit anywhere near as high, so it wouldn’t be as effective.

Some people put the semen directly into the Soft Cup and then insert it. I tried with a small amount of water and it spilled everywhere. We’ll do it the other way, so.

Pre-Seed is marketed as a lubricant that is “sperm-friendly”, but a lot of people have said that it mimics good cervical mucus and can help if you use it along with your insemination attempt. Can’t hurt.

And despite my internal mantra to relax, relax, relax, I’m nervous — really nervous. If I manage to ovulate this month it’ll be through divine intervention.

No related posts.

Because our family will not be recognised as such under Irish law, we need to trust that our donor will not seek to undermine our family and seek custody. He, in turn, needs to trust that if he helps us out right now, that we won’t turn around in later years and seek child support or involvement that he does not want.

For that reason, it’s really tempting to involve as few people as possible in the creation of our families. Anonymous sperm donors are popular. Embryo adoption is a really interesting option too.

While I’m not overly bothered that my child’s genetic material include any of mine — I have friends with adopted children and I don’t see them as less of a family because they lack a genetic link — there is something comforting about using a known donor. I’ll be the first person to admit that my reasons are not altogether rational. I’m certain that goodness and personality are not inherited. But on the off chance that they are, I’m happy to know my (currently hypothetical) child will have nothing to worry about.

My partner and I have decided to start a family. We have a friend who has volunteered to help us out. In two weeks, all going to plan, we will make our first attempt to get pregnant. I’m a bit mortified by what needs to happen. We’ll meet our friend and hand him a cup. He will go away and then come back with the same cup, which will then contain ejaculate. There is no way to construct a polite fiction around this. It is all very naked and weird and necessary.

It can also be hard, frustrating and emotional. I know friends who’ve tried for years and haven’t been successful. I try and tell myself it’s all about just trying and seeing what happens, no expectations. But it’s really hard not to hope that I’ll be like my friend who, at 33, got pregnant the very first time she and her husband went without contraception. Or my work colleagues — the last two pregnancies at work were both (happy) accidents. Will I blame myself if I don’t conceive? Probably. Straight people make it look so easy.

In the meantime, I’m taking my temperature, checking my “icky sticky” (see video below), taking vitamins that contain folic acid, working out and eating right. Also, reading everything OtherMother has written.

I will let you all know how it goes. Or if it doesn’t go, as the case may be.

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We all know gay people are adopting and raising children but no one seems to talk about the logistics of it. How? Where? Who? What? It’s in the interest of making things a bit more manageable, and dispelling some myths that some friends decided to set up the website IrishPinkAdoptions.com.

Apparently the name of the site has raised some eyebrows, something which one of the organisers explains:

I know that the term “pink” is raising one or two eyebrows in the Irish LGBT community. There has always been a contention on the use of that color to symbolize the LGBT community as a whole. But you can never please everyone. The idea has come from the title of a UK resource: The Pink Guide to Adoption.

But let’s get serious here; who cares what it’s called? This site is a first for our community; a supporting place for parents who adopt and people hoping to do so.

The site was set up by a guy who has been thinking about adoption with his partner for a while. Still in the “consideration” phase, he realised that most of the resources available were British or American, and that most were very much hetero-centric, and more than often mother-centric.

So, where do you start? There is so much to know and find out.

The idea is to start with the following core features:

• Explain the existing process for inter-country adoption;
• Explain and help with some of the documentation that is needed throughout the process;
• Help with some of the concepts and tools used during the assessment (for instance we found a very good tool to create a family tree, which allows a man to marry a man. Very few applications allow it, and some don’t even allow to have adopted children…);
• Offer a forum where a community of like-minded people can share information about adoption, and discuss their interests;
• Offer an outlet to share the experience in the community: for instance, “how has your relationship with ‘the scene’ changed since you have started the process, and after the arrival of the child?”
• List and review the reading and viewing suggested by the Adoption Authority;
• List and review ‘pink’ resources, and try to see how relevant to Ireland and to “pink” families they are. Some are useless, some are essential reading.

It’s a big ask for any volunteer to take on, so they are starting small and planning to grow. Understandably, starting off the site is mainly the guys who set it up and people they know, but everyone is welcome.

To get more feminine input, we will need more female involvement. And we also welcome contributions from any “pink” household who has, is, or will be adopting: a lot of the challenges are common, and so are the rewards.

This site is starting as a way to share the information gathered so far, but also to help in the decision to move to the next step.

You may ask “what can our readers do?” First they can visit the site and refer it to others: they might find it interesting, even if they are not a ‘pink’ household.

Second, they can have a look at the testimonial pages and pick as many or as few questions as they want, and simply contribute.

http://irishpinkadoptions.com/reference-material/your-story/

Even better, they can register.

As LGBTs start to get more rights, we can be more open about our family situations. We also expect more from the society we live in. From teens upwards, gay people are more confident, less apologetic for being ourselves and less likely to accept legal limitations. And when it comes to adoption there are many such limitations.

Adoption cannot be a political statement, so we need to know – and let the LGBT community know – what are the chances of a couple of men being assessed together as a gay couple? Only one can adopt, but both are assessed. This alone proves that the HSE knows very well that this can be the best option for some children.

The big question is: why is the law such an ass about it, and still assumes that the only valid parents are a married heterosexual couple, when the HSE has practically demonstrated that we are fit parents?

At present, the HSE does not discriminate against LGBT people when it comes to adoption. They are treated the exact same as any unmarried couple.

With the new Civil Partnership legislation on the horizon, this will not change. We may be partnered legally but we still won’t be married.

[Irish Pink Adoptions] totally agree with LGBTNoise and Marriage Equality that nothing short of civil marriage (the only valid marriage in the land) will protect the right of children raised in “pink” households.

Also we think that there is no need to change the constitution in order to open marriage to same-gender couples. The constitution does not define the family in term of gender, or of fertility, but in term of households raising children.

The rights of same-gender couples will be increased by the Civil Partnership Bill. But they will also be frozen in time. No more progress will be allowed, because “we got that bit about taxes and separation”.

The segresation comes from the Oireachtas and from the Government. They deny us marriage, the basis of family according to the Consitiution. They do not allow us to have the same treatment as any married couple who is not a fertile couple. They would not get away with preventing infertile men or women from marrying… but they get away with preventing us.

And this is not a question of gay rights:  it is a question of children’s rights. Without marriage, the children brought up in a “pink” household are denied the constitutional protection of having married parents. Marriage is foremost about raising children in a household: it is not about raising biological children only.

The  guys at Irish Pink Adoption are understandably passionate about the rights of gay parents and are doing their bit by concentrating on one part of what is a minefield.

The objective of the site is certainly not to give “legal advice”. Some of our future members might be lawyers, and some may want to set up such an agency. We can only be a catalyst.

The site will outline what you need to know before embarking into the long and strenuous journey towards adoption. It will also be used to collect testimonials from people who have been there, and done that. Or part of it. This would be the most valuable contribution of this site, if people join in and share. That is also why we apply a 100% rule of anonymity.

The site itself will concentrate on inter-country adoption, because that is pretty much the only option for gay couples who are not family members of the adopted child. Domestic adoption is very much restricted, unless a deceased parent wanted you to have custody.

Gay couples adopting abroad face the challenge of a domestic assessment, and then the hardship of finding a country that will allow the “single”, gay parent to adopt. That last bit is actually the hardest… getting assessed is not that hard because the HSE cares for the best interest of the children.

Following a report on the implementation of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, the Ferns Report, and the Government has been talking about having a Referendum on Children’s rights for some time now. Best case scenario for “pink” households is that this could protect children in same-sex partnerships. It could also take away the “what about the children” stick that is often used to beat back proposals for gay marriage.

The Referendum on Children’s Rights may help allow introducing the idea that the marital status of potential adoptive parents does not matter. If the marital status of the birth parents does not matter, and if the rights of the child do not depend on the marital status of their parents, then marriage may no longer be needed to protect the children of pink families and the Civil Partnership could be enough.

That may mean a change of policy in the future and the possibility for LGBT couples to adopt as a couple. At present they can only adopt as a sole applicant, and are then assessed as a couple.

But that is a very optimistic view of how the Law will follow from the suggested changes. It means trusting the government. This is not quite in the letter of the suggested amendment, and I doubt that it is in its spirit.

As you can see, “pink” parents have much to consider and that’s just the legal side of things. Then there are the things normal parents have to worry about. Sites like IrishPinkAdoptions.com are not just a positive addition to our community, but essential resources for any “pink” household.

IrishPinkAdoptions.com

Alternative Parents Ireland

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So, you have your donor, you’re doing your thing and bam! you’re preggers. Woohoo! Off to the doc with you and may you be the happiest of mammies.

However, what about month after month nothing. Zero. Nada. That damned line is looking mockingly at you. What have you done wrong? What could you do better? Is there something wrong with you/your partner/your donor?

First of all, woah! Stop the brain from over-doing it. This is the most erratic of roller-coasters you’re on. Your emotions will be all over the place. No matter how many times you say you won’t do it, you’ll be convinced each month that this is the month. You’re only human.

Not to undermine the role of the non-biological mother-in-waiting, but as difficult as it is for us, it is so much harder for your partner. Should you have problems getting pregnant, she will blame herself and her body. Ignore her if she says she isn’t; she is

There is one reason for your difficulties that so simple you’ll overlook it. If your straight friends/family are trying to get pregnant, they have as much sex as they can when the woman is fertile. We get one shot (if you’ll excuse the use of the word), maybe two if your donor is available, every month. We’re searching for a pub on Good Friday, but they have it on tap at home.

There are things you can do, though. You can take one or two months out to chart your fertility, using the indicators you can pick up in any chemist. If you decide to do this I strongly recommend doing it for more than one month as you get a better average. After a few disappointing months, my partner and I  decided to chart her fertility scientifically, to check that we were on the right track. It turned out that, for months, we were on the wrong day. Also be aware that, just because she has been fertile on day-11 for months, she may not be fertile until day-12 one month. The body is kookie that way. Just to keep you on your toes.

You can also reassess your donor; maybe he’s not as fertile as you need. If you have the luxury, you can look for another donor. Or think about using a clinic and an unknown donor (mail me for details).

Take breaks from inseminations. It’s exhausting and uses up so much of your reserves that I can’t over-estimate how important it is to just stop for a month or two. When my partner and I would stop for a month we’d always comment on just how relaxed we felt. It’s not that we were feeling hugely stressed-out but it’s internal, you are keeping so much inside that sometimes you just need to give yourself a break.

After two years (count them) of that bloody pregnancy test tutting at us, my partner and I stopped. It was just too much, so we said goodbye and thank you (so, so much) to our wonderful donor.

He had been a great friend before our adventure and I’m happy to say he still is. Donors are amazing; whether they be donating blood, organs or sperm, they are giving of themselves quite literally. To be a sperm donor to a lesbian couple, especially for a journey as long as ours, takes a special person. Each month, he arrived when summoned and did his thing. He never pressured us about the monthly results, never pushed. We wanted him to be anonymous so he never spoke about it when we’d be out with mutual friends. When either he or we were worried, or needed to talk, we were there for each other. It was the perfect blend. Just a pity the egg and sperm didn’t think so. I can’t think of anyone else I know who’d I’d have liked to be the father of my baby’s baby.

Next step, after a few months off and a fabulous holiday; IUI in a treatment clinic.

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