It Wasn’t Suppose To Happen This Way

As I write this post, I’m sitting in my mother’s hospital room watching her die.

It wasn’t suppose to happen this way.

When I was a little girl, my mom was my best friend. I remember that my favorite spot was across the bottom of her bed, where I’d throw myself and talk to her and my dad. I’d tell them about my day, watch tv with them, or just sit. When I was getting sober, I’d come over on the weekends, sit on my dad’s side of the bed, smoke butts and drink coffee, and talk to my mom. It was what I looked forward to the most on the weekends. I’d sit there and hang out, waiting until I had to go to my AA meeting. She always had something to talk about – even when I didn’t.

Growing up, I remember her telling me that I could be and do anything I wanted. I always felt encouraged by her with regards to my future. I was exceptionally good at school, and she would push me in that direction. I loved talking to her about school – about what I read and what new facts I learned. As I went through college, I’d talk about the books we were studying in Literature. I shared my mom’s love of books – something wonderful that she passed down to me. I followed in her footsteps and majored in English – I think that made her super proud. And then went on to get my Masters in English, and she thought the fact that I had more education than her the best thing since sliced bread! She was always so proud of my accomplishments. I knew that no matter what I did or didn’t do, she would always be there to love and support me.

At the same time, my mom drove me nuts – just like every mother/daughter relationship. When I was a teenager, I remember being so mad at her that I would say things that I knew would hurt her. I feel bad about that now. I feel bad about making her feel bad. But I was a dumb kid, and I know she did the same thing to her mom when she was a teenager. No one is exempt.

One great thing about loving your kid is forgiveness. Even though I was an asshole growing up because we all had our moments, I knew my mom forgave me for that stuff.

When I told my mom I was queer, she wasn’t surprised. In fact, she said she had known that I was long ago – and was just waiting until I told her. Clearly she knew something I didn’t know – she saw my struggle as a kid, trying to figure out who I was. I was 33 years old when I came out, and my mom loved me and hugged me and told me I was wonderful. I remember crying with her, because it was such a relief. It was a releif to have said it out loud, and especially to know that she loved me no matter what. I do have to give it to my mom, she didn’t even miss a beat. She was so happy!

That’s the one thing I’m going to miss about my mom – she was always my biggest cheerleader. Even as an adult, she cheered me on and always wanted me to be the best in whatever it was that I did. I got a new job, and she thought I should be the CEO of the company. She was always crazy like that – I’m going to miss sharing the good things that happen with her. I’m going to miss getting a hug when things aren’t so happy. I’m going to miss the anecdotes and family stories that would be rehashed again and again on holidays or gatherings.

More than anything, I’m going to miss telling her I’m pregnant and the excitement and joy on her face. I’m going to miss sharing that news and that experience with her.

I’m not sure what the next month or two will bring. I don’t know when the universe is going to turn around and bless my wife and I with our biggest adventure, either. That’s not up to me. But I do know that when the time comes, mom will be with me.

One of the last things I asked her was to take care of the souls of my child until my wife and I are ready. And she promised she’d will – she’d hold them tight and keep them safe. And I know she will.

I’m going to miss her. But I just have to remember that she taught me well and showed me how to be a mom. And when I get frustrated or hit my breaking point, she’ll be right beside me to help me through.

It wasn’t suppose to happen this way.

But I’m going to have to learn how to move about a world where my mother no longer walks, and try to become a mother myself without her holding my hand. Instead, my mother will be holding my heart.

 

A Queer Woman’s Journey to Motherhood

I’ve always known that I wanted to be a mother one day. When I was in my twenties, I was very awkward around children. I just didn’t know how to interact with them. During this time, I thought to myself that maybe I shouldn’t be a mom, because I just feel so uncomfortable around kids. But then, my sister gave birth to my first nephew. He was such a cutie. I lived with him for the first 5 years of his life, and during that time, I took part in raising him. Because of that experience, I grew comfortable with children. In fact, today, I’d much rather hang out with kids than I would adults.

Because of this experience, and because I’m older, I definitely believe that I was meant to be a mom – and that I wanted to have a child of my own. This change came about – and the urge has grown more and more – due to two reasons: 1. I’m financially stable (as much as I think anyone can be); 2. I’m in a loving, supportive relationship and we are ready to take on the challenge. Now, I know that being in a relationship is not a requirement for having kids – I know a ton of single moms. But for me, after meeting and marrying my wife, we both know that our family is incomplete without a child.

So, now – I’m 35 years old. Married to the love of my life for a year and a half. We have a lovely home, though we’re still renting, but purchasing a home of our own is on the 5 year plan. I have a good job with benefits, and we are financially independent. It’s true that there’s never a good time to have a baby, but we’re in a better spot to start a family than some who don’t have the luxury of planning.

Clearly, my wife and I cannot conceive a child on our own, due to the laws of nature. Again, one of the perks, I guess, of being able to plan when we get pregnant(?). So we are wandering through the wacky, confusing world of assisted reproduction.

That’s what this blog is about. It’s about our journey to becoming the queer moms we long to be, and how we’re attempting to make that happen. I know that there are a lot of people out there who are curious about how two women can make a baby, and what going through assisted reproduction is like – everything from the testing, probing, and scheduling, to choosing a donor.

I won’t lie — this process takes a toll on every single person who goes through it. It’s not glamourous. It’s not fun. And it’s certainly not G rated. But it is incredibly personal. I hope by sharing my story, I can bring some clarity, some humor, and some hope to anyone who is going through this. We’re here for you – and we get it. But one thing is for sure, it’ll be brutally honest – because in the end, the only thing we want out of this is the family we dream of. And that makes it worth it.