Posts Tagged ‘civil rights’

The theoretical becomes possible.

June 27, 2013

So, the Supreme Court overturned the Defence of (heterosexual) Marriage Act. I think this means we could all theoretically move to Country A, at least as soon as marriage equality passes in law here. Then our civil partnership could be ‘upgraded’ to a marriage. And then, as far as I understand, the federal government of Country A would have to legally recognise our marriage and we would have a legal leg to stand on if we wished to immigrate.

If I have that wrong, someone please enlighten me.

I read a few minute ago about a binational couple – one was in the midst of being deported when the SCOTUS ruling came out, and the judge immediately stopped the proceeding because, lo and behold, this couple was legally married in a right on state, and therefore entitled to federal benefits…including immigration. Big stuff.

Of course, the rest of the dominos need to fall, the rest of that country needs marriage equality otherwise it is all a colossal head fuck, but still.

This brings real questions about our life up. I have dual citizenship, as do the children. So we could move elsewhere without any legal hassle if we wanted to move back.

But moving to Country A would require such a lifestyle overhaul. I’d probably have to be the one to work while TMD stayed home. We would have to move to a gay friendly state, namely worrying about insurance. Over here, everyone has ‘free’ healthcare. I could break my leg tomorrow and not have to worry about how today for x rays or painkillers. As far as I understand, some states (and most companies) do not allow benefits for same sex partners. Does the ruling stop this? What is the reality of insurance in that country? I’ve never been a real adult there, so I don’t know.

Home education would be protected in the areas we would ever consider moving to. So that isn’t an issue.

But JOBS.

Let’s be real, I know what field I would be ready to step back into….though I’d prefer TMD to do it….but it is an incompatible job for married people with a family. Totally time consuming and all encompassing.

I like our lifestyle here. I think moving across the planet is a huge undertaking, even when you are moving back to a country you have lived before. People move on, things change, and when you have lived abroad since your early twenties, well, there’s a lot to learn.

I’d love to live near my family, but I love living here.

I don’t think my mother understands the SCOTUS ruling or the implications. It’s always been easy to try to fob off the guilt trips, considering my relationship had no legal status in Country A. I have a bit more buffer time until the marriage equality law changes here, but the process has already started and it is only a matter of time. Once we are legally married, and Country A is forced to recognise that marriage, well…..no longer am I an exile. No longer do I HAVE to choose between my wife/family and my birth country.

But you know what, this is my country, too. My home.

No matter where we live, one of us will be far from family. I don’t doubt we would figure things out, probably be very happy in either place. But man, what a lot to think about.

Why I’m not overjoicing over a bone being thrown in my general direction.

May 10, 2012

I woke up this morning to my Facebook newsfeed flooded with news about Obama. In case you live under a rock, he said:

”I have to tell you that over the course of several years as I have talked to friends and family and neighbors when I think about members of my own staff who are in incredibly committed monogamous relationships, same-sex relationships, who are raising kids together, when I think about those soldiers or airmen or marines or sailors who are out there fighting on my behalf and yet feel constrained, even now that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is gone, because they are not able to commit themselves in a marriage, at a certain point I’ve just concluded that for me personally it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that I think same sex couples should be able to get married.”

Okay, swell.

But my first reaction was not that of abject gratitude, which many of my gay friends in America seem to be having. Like that picture circulating of Obama riding a unicorn, rainbows shooting out of his bad ass gay loving hands. I guess I’m just an ungrateful second class citizen.

My reaction was, ‘It’s not enough.’ Don’t get me wrong. I get that it’s a big deal for a sitting American president to come out in favour of (gay) marriage. Fine. But they are just words.

He continued to say that he believes it needs to be an issue tackled state by state. For those keeping count, 32 states have passed laws or ammendments to their state constitutions banning gay unions or marriages. Laws have been passed saying they no longer recognise marriages from out-of-state. I have friends – lesbian headed families like our own – who literally never leave their state because all the protection for them ceases at the borders. And even within those borders, they have to carry around adoption certificates to prove they have the right to make decisions for their child.

If you are in a man-woman marriage with kids, imagine being alone with your kids while one of them falls and smashes their head in. Imagine not being allowed to make medical decisions or even see your kid. That is the reality for gay families in America.

State changes are not enough. Equality needs to be handled on a federal level – this ensures legal rights are protected across the entire country. It also means immigration is impacted….which means families like mine might actually be able to make a choice about whether they want to live in Obama land or continue to reside in their top secret, equality loving country. You know, as opposed to feeling abject terror every time they visit family in that country, because one half of the couple could be REFUSED ENTRY to America because they are married to an American same-sex partner.

Every major civil rights issue has this in common. Read up on women getting the vote, on interracial marriage. All were originally state issues. Until people realised how fucked up that was, because individual states were were millions of years away from all coming to an agreement. So the federal government stepped up – and however you feel about government involvement in ‘private’ life, I think we can all agree that women should vote, interracial couples should be able to marry, that same sex couples should be able to marry.

I only hope the federal government grows a pair and deals with this issue – and that it is an equality supporter like Obama that heads the government when that mighty day finally comes.

Have an extra six minutes? Watch this.

Lesbian bicontinental mummies.

December 16, 2009

What’s on my mind tonight? Immigration.

When we set foot on the soil of Country A this weekend, a lot is at stake. A ‘normal’ family would just pick the ‘citizens’ or ‘foreign nationals’ line and line up together. Fill in one form.

Us? I am a citizen of Country A and Country B, as are the babies. TMD is only a citizen of Country B, as Country A is a giant big fat redneck ho-down of ignorance in terms of gay rights. Country A can actually refuse her entry into its hallowed fields of grain, etc etc as she is legally married to little ol’ me. (With a legality that is erased and unrecognised by the unbelievable arrogance of the federal laws of Country A.)

Before we had children, we would separate at the immigration lines without being coupley at all. We went through our independent lines. I was never questioned about anything regarding relationships, though I faced a fair number of questions like this: Why don’t you want to live in our great country? What is wrong with it? Why would you choose to live somewhere else? I’ve had my bags ripped apart, I’ve been shamelessly flirted with by male customs and immigration men, I have been questioned and had my answers recorded into their giant database thing.

TMD has had the odd question as well. Coming here for Christmas – what, aren’t your family mad about that? You’ve been in this country a lot recently….why is that? Do you have a boyfriend here?

I have felt belittled and angry about having to be closeted at all. I have no shame about myself, my wife, and our family. But I’ve kept my mouth shut because, well, sometimes that is easier, particularly when the people you are talking to have guns and shiny badges.

With children, things get a lot more complicated. For me, I’ll be asked to prove that I have the right to be taking them abroad on my own – I suspect this will be a bigger issue on the return trip home rather than going into that country, but still. The issue is there. I’ll be asked who I’m travelling with, as I’m actually not able to fly alone with two four month old babies.  We both have full parental responsibility for Snort and Coconut, which makes things even messier. TMD and I do not want to lie. But we don’t want to overshare, either.

I was supposed to be in a wheelchair in both airports, but have decided I will probably try to walk in Country A. This means I can go alone through the citizens immigration line with the babies and TMD can go through the foreign nationals line. Hopefully no one will want to fuck around with me too much, as I will have two babies and a giant ass twin stroller (we need it for the car seats!).

We shouldn’t have to have conversations about whether we should split up or go through as a family. We shouldn’t know that to go through as a family is inviting questions at best, TMD being detained or deported at worst. We shouldn’t be planning all of the documents we will need – including TMD getting a letter stating that she has a full time job over here and is due back at work on 5 January.

TMD shouldn’t be crying because she is scared that somehow, the unthinkable will happen and she will have to spend Christmas alone. (Incidentally, we would fly back with her…assuming they would make provision to find the babies and me seats…but why would they, if they were already fine with not recognizing us as a family?)

I shouldn’t be angry about the fact that only a few years from now, the babies won’t be babies any more and we’re going to have some tough discussions about why immigration is so different here in our home as compared to Country A.

While I know it’s very unlikely either of us will be questioned that much, and that there is no way they could stop her entering – we have a life in this country, a mortgage, full time jobs, she’s clearly not looking to make an illegal and lifelong move to The Country That Time Forgot – it’s still upsetting and scary. I won’t get my wheelchair, true, but what’s a million times more important is that we are going to be treated as less than a fully human family.

So fuck you, Country A.

My family matters.

October 26, 2009

What do you want me to say? I could write a right on political statement about why gay rights are worth fighting for, but it’s nothing you haven’t read before. Nothing you don’t already agree or disagree with.

Step into my life for one day, one morning, one instant.

I stare down at my two ten week old babies, and I pause. My heart aches. My family matters. We are worth it. My children have two moms, and I believe they are all the luckier for it.

I can’t believe that people are fighting in courts, running campaigns, debating civil rights. It just doesn’t make sense to me. What’s NOT to embrace? Our babies poop, we like to tickle them, we all love each other.

Yet we aren’t recognised in the country I was born in. My children and I are citizens of that country, and yet we couldn’t move there and bring their Mum with us. We are nervous stepping off the plane when we arrive there, and it makes me feel small and nervous and ANGRY.

We are living on the other side of the world from my family, and this is because I choose our family over the family I was born into – and there shouldn’t have to be a choice.

My children deserve to grow up in a world where all people are celebrated. Fuck acceptance or tolerance – we ARE all different, it’s stupid to pretend we aren’t, and it’s even stupider to not realise how powerful that makes us as people. How much we have to learn, how much we have to experience. How much stronger our own communities could be, and how much stronger we could all be if we joined together.

As that country debates gay marriage, laws that could impact immigration, people are angry…on both sides. While the storm rages on, people are embarassed, outraged, empowered, impotent, strengthened, saddened, surprised.

And here I sit, with two babies who laugh in their sleep, have full tummies, light up when they see their Mummy is home from work, who watch everything we do with intense concentration. I look at these two little people and my heart clenches. They are worth being brought up in a world that won’t make them feel awkward or afraid. We are a family, and we are worth it.

My son and daughter may be gay, straight, trans. They may be rock stars, scientists, musicians, perpetual students. They may choose to be single, or to be with someone from a different race. And you know what? I don’t care, because I love them.

If this world had a little more love, we’d all be a lot better off.

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I need to stop writing before I go into hysterics…not the fun kind, either.

June 19, 2009

Jesus, am I hormonal. Just read the comments left on my last entry and they got me crying. It’s nice to have reassurance that I am not a bad person for loving my babies and perhaps despairing of pregnancy at the moment. Of course there is a paradox – I cannot fucking WAIT for August and this part of the journey to be over, but at the same time more than anything I want their arrival to not happen until August is happily ticking away.

I want them to go to term more than I want my own pain to end.

I am also sort of upset because our wills are taking ages to sort out. We finally got the copies to proof in the post, and there was a letter to TMD informing her that it was ‘legal and right’ to refer to the babies as hers, thanks to a change in law. While the lawyer no doubt felt proud of himself for learning about the new law regarding lesbian couples, it pisses me off because that law only applies to infants conceived in or after April 2009. So, yet again, we need to go back to him to sort things out. The only reason we are getting wills in the first place is so that should something happen to me, the guardianship passes to her. The lawyer didn’t bother putting that in my will because he doesn’t seem to understand that TMD has no legal rights over the children at first.

It’s nice that he sees no distinction between us and any other married couple, but also fucking impractical and uninformed.

Whew. I talked myself out of the comment-tears and into lawyer-anger.

I don’t know. Today is still a rough day. I’ve gotten up a couple of times, and the weight of the babies pressing down on my hips is something quite extraordinary. While I was having a good cry in the shower this morning, TMD pointed out that the weight hurting my SPD is a good thing – because I ‘am doing such a good job, and the babies are growing big and healthy.’ She is right.

I still have a semi-irrational fear about being home alone, but at least the fear is now confined to me – what if I had to piss the couch? What if I fell?  This is more manageable than worrying that I’m suddenly going to shoot multiple babies out of my cootch onto the new carpeting.

I am so overwhelmed by the love and support shown to me/us via this blog, and I really can’t express what it means to have people there to cheer me on….and also tell me it’s okay to cry.

Fuck. Crying again. I just want to meet the babies. I just want to be able to walk without first worrying about how I shift positions on the couch, get up without my hips giving out, moving without the pelvic pain being something bordering intolerable. I think part of this is a disappointment that I am not prancing through a field of marigolds, wearing a floaty dress over my bump (I do love my bump) and smiling into the sun. I so wanted to love pregnancy. I have wanted to be pregnant for about seven years.

I dropped out of my PhD in 2003/2004 because we didn’t want to wait any more for children. For one reason or another, we did, and now they are here and growing. But I feel like I am failing at being pregnant. I know the important thing is staying pregnant, the babies being healthy and growing, etc. But I feel like the other side of pregnancy – the secret smiles and patting of my bump, the joy of feeling myself bloom, the freedom to be outdoors and outside with the babies in the bump – all of that is so rare.

I enjoy a two minute car trip to the fucking post office so much it makes me cry to think I once was able to actually leave the house without it being a big, special treat. I am missing out on all the things other pregnant women – particularly twin mums – complain about. Strangers coming up to touch your tummy without permission. Chatty bitches on trains telling you allllll about their pregnancies, which you really couldn’t care less about. Baby showers.

Argh.

Part of this is also impatience because I just want to meet the babies now, but I am afraid of jinxing things if I say that outloud.

Eight more weeks, eight more weeks.

I remember reading this blog when she only had seven weeks to go, and how quickly it seemed to fly by – at least from my perspective of blog reader! I know eight weeks is nothing, but it sure feels like an impossible amount of time sometimes. I’ve been told by the midwives and doctors that the pain is only going to continue to increase, and sometimes I wonder how that is possible. I suppose the pain is bearable, but it’s the narrowing of my life that is not. Even within the four walls of my own home, everything requires such an immense effort and it’s….tiring?

I also have not pooped since a true ass bomb explosion on Wednesday after returning from the hospital. I have never not pooped for this long in my life. The thing is, even if I felt like I had to, I have to negotiate how to get to the bathroom, try to breathe through the pain of sitting on the toilet and hanging around, etc etc.

Sorry if this is just sounding like a giant pity party. I know some fantastic people are still trying to get pregnant and being so brave and strong, and here I am whining because I am lucky enough to have two babies tucked safely inside me.

I just feel like…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t feel strong or brave enough to be more positive, I’m sorry I feel like I can’t bear another eight weeks, I’m sorry for feeling so overwhelmed by everything, I’m sorry for the amount of work TMD is doing to take care of me, the babies, the house, our life.  All I do is lie around and cry, or sleep, or moan.

I am constantly asking her for help. Can you please get me the ice pack? Can you hand me that box of tissues? Would you fucking just DIRECT the showerhead into my ass to rinse it – don’t you realise you are hitting my THIGH with the water?

I feel guilty.

Jesus. Now I’m sobbing. Great.

And dual citizenship sucks, innit.

June 10, 2009

Erk.

My mother is very, very excited about us coming for Christmas. She is planning a big baby party for the whole family to meet the twins.

But – I’ve just found out that to enter into that country, the babies MUST have a passport from that country or they will be refused entry (because they have a claim to citizenship via myself). I am a wee bit stressed (ie breathless with worry!) about the short time scale we have to do everything.

Going to write the order of things I think needs to happen here to get it out of my head.

1. Register the birth of the babies. Get a short form birth certificate same day – but we have to register in the city where they are born, which is NOT the city we live in.

1.5 We also need to get TMD legal responsibilities – don’t know if this can happen when we register the births, or what. Also not sure where this needs to happen or on what form. I think I have the right form, but it only refers to ‘mother’ and ‘father’ so I find that confusing.

2. Get long form birth certificates for the babies. Am googling like mad but can’t actually figure out how that happens.

2.5 Get together all the paperwork to prove my citizenship (need to see that my passport is still fucking valid. I think it is), complete two application forms for citizenship, complete two applications for passports, figure out where the fuck to get baby photos that will be accepted by that country for the passports, somehow get proof that I have lived in Country A in the past – ie aquiring old school records. WTF. Pay an outrageous amount of money.

3. Go to the (Country A) consulate to register the births of citizens abroad, aquire citizenship for babies (and get same day certificates), apply for a certain identity number every citizen needs, and apply for passports.

Concurrently, we will also be applying for their passports of THIS country. I don’t actually know how to do that, unless it’s on the same form I just used, which would be handy. Unfortunately I think all the birth certificates will also be needed for this process. Therefore if anyone knows what country I live in and how the fuck to get long form certificates, perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me if I can also pay extra (money greases wheels?) to get duplicate copies at the same time we get the originals.

I am sure a few months is long enough for this to happen, but we will need the ‘foreign’ passports of the country where Mom lives in order to purchase plane tickets – I think. I hope all this doesn’t fuck up Christmas, and in a way I wish we didn’t have all this running back and forth to do. It’ll all have to be in the first month when TMD is at home.

Just what you want to do with two newborn babies – troop all over the fucking country and attend official interviews when they need to be eating every few hours. Courtesy of my boobs. Both at the same time. This is, of course, assuming that long form birth certificates don’t take weeks and weeks to arrive, which I think I have heard happens. Then TMD would have to take extra time to take us into The City to do all the consular stuff. (Let’s forget the nightmare that is public transport at this point, okay?)

Since moving to this country, I have wondered when all the legal shit and immigration nonsense will end. I guess in terms of myself it is finally sorted out as of today, but I won’t feel like it is REALLY okay until both babies have both passports – hopefully with oodles of time to spare before Christmas.

Question for parents of babies who also travel abroad (you know, like many baby mommas want to be jetting around the fucking world) – can you somehow get the children listed on your passport, therefore negating their need for a passport? Just a question.

——————

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

Just read the ‘additional requirements’ if you are applying for passports of Country A  for children under 16. Both parents have to be present, or the absent parent MUST fill in some fucking form giving consent. Handily, this country does NOT recognize same sex partnerships, civil unions, or same sex marriage.

Christ McJesus. Going to keep reading.

Ok. Apparently if I have sole responsibility (which will not be the case, as TMD will be legally responsible at that point – though NOT recognised by this fucking country) I can apply. But you know what? I also need to provide my original birth certificate and all sorts of other shit.

This is about six thousand times more complicated than any other immigration hoops I have jumped through thus far. Fucking poopheads.

———————

OH MY FUCKING GOD PART TWO. Just thought of something. At some point in this process TMD’s name will no doubt be entered into the scary database and connected with my own, which could cause her problems entering the country Mom lives in.

——————-

Another interesting postscript:

If we had conceived four months later than we did, both of us would be able to be listed on the birth certificates as parents and TMD would have full legal rights and responsibilities from day one. I reckon this would complicate shit with Country A something chronic, but then we wouldn’t have to have all these forms after they are born, worrying about the wills now, and then going through the whole adoption process from next February.

Man, this shit is fucked up.

Dual citizenship is fucking cool, though, innit.

June 10, 2009

I was born in Country A. I lived there until I was 22, at which point I moved to Country B. TMD was born in Country B. She came over to A every summer to work at the same place I did, and she absolutely loves that country. Our plan was always to return there.

In 2001 she was studying for a degree, so I came over to study for two years to do my MA while she finished up her studies. As things turned out, we ended up living here for the long term. You see, Country B allows me to live here as TMD’s partner. Country A can bar TMD entry simply because we are a lesbian couple. (This terrifies me in terms of how things are going to work travelling there for Christmas next year, as with two infants we will obviously need to be together. I am okay with keeping my mouth shut, but I am NOT okay with lying about my marriage. That is, perhaps, another topic.)

At any rate, I lived here for two years as a student. Then a little bit as an overstayer – someone who no longer has a legal right to be in the country. This is because we planned to be going back to Country A….and that didn’t work out. Aaaaaaaanyway, we then had to leave and go to Country A to apply for a spousal visa for me, as I was told by our lawyer that I could be deported if I attempted to change my status while still over here as I had no legal rights.

So. A further two years on that visa, and then I applied for indefinite leave to remain. This allows me to live in Country B all the livelong day, but with some essential rights granted to citizens not being given to me. Because we were legally married, I was entitled to apply for citizenship after about a year, but didn’t get around to it until last year. I got my citizenship (while still retaining citizenship of Country A – I feel very strongly I do NOT want to give up that citizenship, despite the terrifying homophobia present in every level of that particular country), and didn’t bother to apply for a passport until very recently.

Until we thought about the babies getting passports and travelling home for Christmas, anyway. So I applied about a month ago for my passport. In this country, anyone over the age of 16 applying for their first passport has to have an interview to prove that they are who they say they are.

We went in for the interview last Friday. And FUCK if I didn’t mess up every question – couldn’t remember any previous flat addresses (but instead of saying, ‘I don’t know,’ I confidently gave the incorrect address over and over again), messed up my dad’s birthday and place of birth, and couldn’t remember when I became a citizen of this country. I came home and the hormones began to pump, and I cried for about three hours about the fact that I had ‘failed the test’ – essentially failed at being me.

Well, today my passport came in the mail. So at least I know I can successfully impersonate myself.

It feels WEIRD to have a different coloured passport. A passport that looks so different to ‘my’ passport, the slightly battered little book that has brought me to and from TMD, my family, my friends for the past nine years. Spooky. I have put it back in its little envelope and left it on the table.

I don’t know the person who owns a new, never-before used passport in that colour. And no, it’s not just the horrific picture of me where I look sort of like that humped over guy from Notre Dame.

If I have to leave the house on my own, I will need Crocs because shoes and socks are beyond me at this point.

April 16, 2009

Just booked our one-day multiples antenatal class. For some reason I was having a minor freak out about booking it – so picked up the phone and did it that way. Yesterday I rang these people to join their Exclusive World of Multiple Babies and they were lovely, and they were lovely again today.

Yesterday when I registered I was really impressed by how gender neutral the woman was. She didn’t ask for my husband’s name, she asked for my partner’s name. Now, I know over here ‘partner’ is a widely applied term – but so handy that it doesn’t imply a sexuality along with it. Today I was asked for my husband or partner’s name; I think these people have undergone some training or something because as soon as she said ‘husband’ she kind of choked up and quickly replaced it with ‘partner.’ Nice.

The weird thing?

She referred to TMD as my ‘birth partner’, but she MEANT ‘wife.’ As in, ‘Is this your birth partner’s first child/children as well?’ and ‘Are you the one carrying the pregnancy?’ She also groovily said (not in a nosy way – it was a question I had to answer for the antenatal referral), ‘I assume you used fertility treatments then?’

Anyway. Class booked. Next step is to book into the local hospital’s free class. No doubt it will be …uh….well, you know, I’ll shut my mouth and hope for the best. I don’t think or know if we will sign up for this other series of antenatal classes (private classes through a national charity – everyone in the world goes to them) as the hospital stuff might cover it anyway. I find it all odd as while I would certainly prefer a vaginal delivery, I just don’t know how things will turn out on the day – it’s like this for multiples. I won’t know for a couple of months yet. Maybe one of you can come over and just teach me how to breathe or something.

Other thing is that I heard back from the local multiples club – they have a meeting tomorrow. While no one believes I am a social hermit because I am so fabulously sparkly with people, I totally hate going along to stuff like this without a friend in tow. I was warned by the email lady that tomorrow might be a bit ‘manic’ as it is school holidays so lots of older twins will be there. Yikes.

Apparently there are a few new twins moms there, though, so it would be quite good to get to know people in the area. I was assured that people ‘forge lifetime friendships’ – normally a churchy cult statement like that would put me off, but actually, I wouldn’t mind a few local lifetime friends. But the meeting’s in a church. Gross.

I am really cooking with this whole babies thing. I am also not moping around or hating bedrest as much this week. In fact, I’m starting to enjoy it. I’m now in a dodgy area where I have outlasted my doctor’s sick note and have not extended it – not even sure where it is. Work has not contacted me and I haven’t contacted them, aside from some emails about my scan and a phone call from Green. I had a tearful half hour earlier this week about missing work, but this is what it is.

I’d rather be successfully cooking babies than struggling to make it through the days at work.

I still have some pretty big stuff to sort out – and the first thing(s) are getting a solicitor so we can make a will, as well as taking legal advice about securing TMD’s parental rights. The law here is changing and if we had conceived a few months later we could have both been on the birth certificate. As it stands, we have to work really hard to make sure our family and babies are safe.

I also need to find a dentist. Yuck. I don’t trust dentists here…but then again I’ve never gone.

….Really grey and gloomy outside today. Hardcore mist coming down into our jungle of a back garden. Regardless, I have done more stuff in the past two days than I have in the past two weeks. I also called the clinic yesterday and found out we will receive our donor’s pen sketch when the babies are born. I also asked about the woman I donated eggs to – waiting to hear back about that.

In the meantime, I may go make myself an ice cream cookie sandwich. They don’t have them in this country (horror, shock, disgust!), but I find they are actually a ‘recipe’ that is within the parameters of ‘things I can cook.’

Love to you all.

(Pictures coming later, assuming I can hook up our new memory card/camera to the laptop with no struggles.)

15 weeks pregnant lesbian couple. Alert! Call the media!

March 3, 2009

We’re 15 weeks pregnant today. That seems a little crazy, because if we deliver at 38 weeks we are rapidly approaching the halfway mark of pregnancy. My stomach is fiercely tight, my boobs finally having a second growth surge, and – dare I say it – I might be feeling a little better?

Still vomiting a bit in spite of medication, but am trying to cut down on meds. I have had two mornings in a row where I didn’t almost fall over from The Dizzies when I woke up. I am drinking mouthfuls of water throughout the night without any terrible consequences.

I’m now on half days at work – a trial period of two weeks. It can be hoped that this will allow my body and mind some time to stabilise from the first trimester baddies who are lingering, my endless chest cold, etc. I know I am truly geeked at the idea of a week without work-induced  migraines, excessive vomiting, crying in the consulting room, etc.

Tears seem to be becoming a major part of my life, but it almost feels good to cry. Like my hormones have given me that little boost to be able to fully express emotion without societal niceties cramping my style. Of course, when I started crying during a maternity fashion show and repeating, ‘I can’t do this, I can’t do this, what are we doing?’ people around me probably thought I was loony tunes…..and so what if I am?!? It’s two babies, damnit.

Had a sort of scary week as didn’t feel either one move Sunday or most of yesterday. Think we got some definite movement last night to TMD rubbing oil on my belly and me pushing her hand quite firmly against the babies. They usually do wake up a bit after some tummy oiling. On the train I also poked Mano and he kicked back. Torre is a bit harder to get moving, and I don’t know if that is because of the placenta’s location, or because he/she is just a placid baby.

Had a dream two nights ago that we had two babies – a bot and a girl. HOLY typo – a bot?!? Jesus, I hope we don’t have a robot child. A BOY and a girl. I’m getting increasingly ansty for the 20 week scan, because if the babies cooperate we’ll find out what they are and get to see them again!

I am considering buying a doppler so if I have more scary ‘why aren’t they moving’ moments I can be reassured. (A doppler is like a wand you place outside your stomach, and with some skill and luck you can hear the baby’s heartbeat.) I think the cheap ones are probably crap, and I don’t know if I can justify getting an expensive one. I wish one of you lived nearby and I could just borrow the sucker for a day!

Finally, all feel free to go to http://www.metro.co.uk/polls and vote on the lesbian IVF question. I never ever do these things, but got upset on the train that this was a topic worth even polling about. Of COURSE TMD should be listed as a second parent on the birth certificate. Now we have to go through all the hassle of legal hoops and paperwork to jump through to make sure that if something terrible happened to me during childbirth, she could have some rights. And then she’ll have to adopt her own children at six months. Madness.

I think all these right wing nutcases should spend a week with us. Our life is so amazingly normal. No lesbian devil horns sprouting, no cloven feet, no abnormal and cruel, twisted behaviour. (No more than usual, anyway.) We have an almost impossibly happy marriage, a deep love, huge commitment, and a lot of fun. How dare people insinuate we should not have children.

Down with The Man!

Another day, another dollar.

November 5, 2008

Hey kids.  Hope your day is going well. Some of my morning elation is fading in the wake of the homophobic voting that happened yesterday, but I don’t have enough energy right now to allow myself to be as angry as that demands. As I sit here writing a novel and watching TMD putter in the kitchen, I roll my eyes at the people who think my life is abnormal.

Abnormally awesome, maybe.

I’m also aware that I’m welcoming Epilady into my blogging life. Hi, Epilady! I may have blown one of my ‘anonymous’ dual nationalities today, but the rules of my blog for people who know me in real life are simple. One, please don’t use my name in the comments. Two, don’t tell other people anything about The Baby Stuff. I’m very selective about who reads this blog, much more so than with previous sites.

Making a baby is much more serious than failing a driving test, so I’m not being too specific with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Natually, this is difficult as I can’t keep my fucking mouth shut, but the closer treatment looms, the less I suddenly want people knowing about it.

Anyway. Hi, Epilady! Have you epilated lately? Inquiring minds want to know.

So – back to NaNoWriMo, the other hot topic of November for me. (Baby, writing, writing, baby.) After not doing any writing yesterday and almost erasing the whole novel today, I’ve recovered. Many thanks to Eric, who suggested a way to recover my novel that worked! I’m up to 8514 words, which is actually slightly higher than Nano demands at this point.

Hoorah, me.


8514 / 50000 words. 17% done!

Can you believe I’m done with 17%? This is the secret glory of nano. No matter how shit the writing is, you can’t help but feel like a superhero because your word count is rising so quickly. Except I’ll let you in on a secret: I don’t think this little baby novel is shitty, actually.

It might just be the best one I’ve ever written. Time will tell.