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I'm a soon-to-be non-gestational, non-biological, non-adoptive mother. In short, I'm a lesbian and my wife is pregnant... this is my blog following documenting our journey.


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The beginning...

I’m about to become a mother. A specific type of mother. To use the correct terminology, I’m about to become a non-gestational, non-biological mum. Catchy, isn’t it? In reality, what this means is I am not related to the baby that my wife is carrying. But the situation differs from adoption a little, insofar as I will be on my child’s birth certificate from day one, I have been there since conception (well technically neither of us were  there , but more on that later), and I have known that this was on the cards since way back when my wife and I sat in the clinic for our first consultation.   For a while, at least, it didn’t look like things would pan out this way. Inseminations, IVF, adoption evenings – we’ve done it all and have a selection of branded items to prove it. But it worked, even though I feel quite nervous about writing this. Things can go wrong. Things don’t work out. That small person might not be okay… I guess this is the drop in the tide before the tsuna...
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People watching and prams...

Sunday is a pretty good day for people watching, and my favourite pastime has now got a new logistical spin. Basically, when it comes to the practicalities of bringing a small person into this world, my wife and I aren’t sweating the small stuff. Look, we took five years of IVF clinics and private consultations and plane rides and sperm donors and operations and general chaos to get to the point that we are at now. So things like the day-to-day practicalities haven’t quite caught up yet. We have a friend who is due a month before us, and all they need is the baby monitor. We, on the other hand, have a Barbapapa lamp we fished out of a skip and a book about a giraffe.   We have loads of time… but still, we’ve started to think that we might need a pushchair. So in the sun, we sat on the shores of a rather big lake in Switzerland, watching the people promenade whilst paying close attention to the buggies that went by. This has taught us a few important facts – ...
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"Why don't you have a baby too?"

A few people that we have told about the impending small person have been quick to ask why I don't fancy the prospect of pregnancy. This is written to address that specific question. Firstly, me and my ovaries are not on first name terms. Don't get me wrong, my vagina and I are the best of pals, but anything beyond my cervix is a conversation I don't want to take part in. I'm worse than useless at getting a regular PAP smear, and I am bloody terrible (no pun intended) on my period. A mix of PCOS and possible endometriosis makes each month's (or sometimes my bi-annual) bloodfest an agony induces swamp of hormones and hysteria.  I don't like my womb. It can fuck right off, so the last thing I want to do is make it bigger, fill it with more things that one day will plunged forth into a living hell of episiotomies and afterbirth. And, added to that, I like the way my vagina looks at the moment - it really isn't in need of a remodel.  But before any p...
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