By: Lex Jacobson
As I write this, tomorrow will be the 12-week mark in this pregnancy –that “safe” milestone that I’ve been looking towards since we got our positive home pregnancy test result. It feels awesome. This baby has decided to stay, and though we’re not sure at this point of any abnormalities or issues with the baby’s health, it’s nice to know that there is still a little heartbeat enveloped within my own.
I thought telling people that we are expecting would be an easy process. Set up dinners with friends, call those that I don’t often see but want to tell personally, pass the news via my mother and father to extended family that I’m not close with. But things have been so busy – we are moving, work is crazy, family is in town – that I haven’t even told the person who I consider to be my best friend. And I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to anytime in the next few weeks.
I didn’t think it would be a nerve-wracking experience, but I am quite nervous about some of the announcements. My very best friends have known that we’ve been trying, but we haven’t mentioned that part of the puzzle to that many other people. Obviously, with the exception of my 92-year-old Christian grandmother, most of our friends and family will be thrilled and extremely supportive. Maybe I don’t have much to worry about with my friends, but there is that added population of people who may not really support our same-sex family choices.
My work is very corporate and quite conservative. Even though I won’t be telling them for another couple of weeks, I’m already worrying about that announcement. It’s protocol to send out a company-wide email announcing the news (after you tell the boss, of course), and I’m struggling with what to say. Though most of my level of workers know I’m gay, many at the higher level do not. I do want to make mention of the fact that my partner and I are expecting, and I guess it would be easier to get the point across if my partner’s name was not gender neutral. I’m trying to avoid the awkward hallway conversations of, “Your husband must be so excited” and “Do you think the baby will look like you or your husband?”
These are the things that straight people don’t need to think about and though it may sound trivial, I’m not one of those out, loud and proud lesbians that can deflect comments like those. But I also don’t want to spend my life explaining. I’m also struggling with how open I want to be with work colleagues about how we got pregnant. Do they really need to know that we went to the doctor’s office every month for 9 months and got a syringe inserted into me with the sperm of a man we’ve never met? If I don’t answer their questions, will they assume we did it “old school” with a male friend of ours? I’m not sure I want that either (not that there is anything wrong with that).
It should be happy news and I know I shouldn’t dwell on the questions and comments that have yet to come, but I am a sensitive being who is not necessarily 100% secure in my sexuality when it comes to people who don’t agree with my “lifestyle”. I should be, but honestly, I’m not. I know that is going to have to change by the time my child is in school and may be bullied for having two moms, but for now, that’s something that my pregnant belly and I have to work on – before the belly gets too much bigger.