I’m joining this a day late, but that’s me: always late to the party.
I remember last year’s Blogging for LGBT Families Day. I didn’t write because I didn’t know what to say. I wanted us to be a family so badly, and I was certain that by this year, we would either have our little family, or I’d have a giant, ready-to-pop belly signaling our family-to-be. Neither of those naive notions have materialized, and J and I are still childless. We’re still walking around with big baby-shaped holes in our hearts.
One of the reasons we moved to the area where we currently live is because we wanted to be near more queer folk, and eventually, we wanted our child to have access to schools where s/he wouldn’t be the only kid with two moms or two dads. We’ve realized that this town is not that town, but we’ve also found some towns where that will be the case, where our kid won’t be unusual, and we’ll be moving there in the coming year.
Last year at this time, I was so certain that I would be a mother by my 33rd birthday. I was downright cocky about it, and now I’m faced with the reality that I may not even be a mother by the time I’m 35. Instead of saying “when we have children,” I’ve started to say, “if we ever get pregnant,” and each time I do, I feel so terribly sad.
It seems that so much of this is true for anyone trying to have a child who hasn’t yet had success. But we’ve been together for ten years, and we both consider ourselves mothers. We think of ourselves as childless moms.
When J and I were on our anniversary cruise this past April, I felt this emptiness more poignantly than I had in a long time. We were sitting in this big lounge for a party the captain was throwing for past guests. We were sitting there in our “smart casual” attire, fighting off seasickness, and I just kept having this sensation that we were missing someone–someone in our party was missing. I mentioned this to J, and we both agreed with tears in our eyes that someone is, indeed missing: our child.
And this is how we walk around all the time. We walk around feeling a little lost, a little uneasy, always looking for that other person who should be with us by now. We want so badly to be someone’s two moms. We even welcome explaining our family to our kids’ teachers and friends’ parents. We look forward to meeting other queer parents and having something in common. We are eager to feel whole.