And baby makes three

It starts like any other Friday. Morning coffee, off to work, lunch with colleagues. Phone rings – don’t recognize the number. Send to voicemail. Phone rings again – OK, must be important. You’ve been picked. You’re having a baby scheduled for delivery in a few hours. In Oceanside. Go.

From our early years dating we knew we wanted to build a family though it took us some time to get there. Finishing education, advancing careers, finding the house – all these were more immediately on the horizon but the mutual dream was there. If we were a straight couple perhaps the unexpected could have happened and you roll with it. Not so for us; we had the luxury of taking all the time we wished to prepare. And then the time felt right. Maybe because things were in a good place for having a family. Maybe it was because we were pushing 40. Either way, we were ready to have a baby.

Before meeting each other, we shared the same worries. The idea of having a family one day was a dream, but would our future spouse want the same? And what about raising children in a gay household – what would they experience in school. Was this right, was this possible? How would we do it?

There are many ways to grow a family and we came to decide that pursuing adoption – specifically open adoption – was the path for us. Open adoptions are arrangements with the intent expressed at the outset to have an ongoing relationship with one or more birthparents. This would provide the hope that, through ongoing contact, the child would know his or her background and the birthparent(s) would get to see the child thriving and be affirmed of their decision. Surrogacy, international adoptions, foster care, closed adoptions, or other arrangements are wonderful choices to achieve the same end. For us, it was about no secrets, being a part of a relationship borne on love, and a conscious decision made for the baby’s best interests.

We researched a number of agencies and organizations that facilitated open adoptions and decided to move forward with the Independent Adoption Center for a number of reasons. They only worked with open adoption arrangements and were a counseling-based agency, not a transactional-based group. They were pro-choice and valued providing information to the birthmother so she could make the right decision for her (and offered referrals if she elected another option). They had a significant presence across the U.S. and a strong marketing campaign to drive interested birthmothers to their site and their clients. And not only were they supportive of LGBT prospective parents, they have had a non-discrimination policy for sexual orientation since the early 1980s which said a lot to us. Still in this day, a number of the agencies we surveyed as options excluded LGBT parents from client consideration.

The first information session we attended further affirmed this would be a good place for us. In that session there were ten couples getting the overview of the agency’s work and how we could move forward. Five were LGBT couples, five were heterosexual. Any feeling of being different based on LGBT identity was lost on us – we were all equals in our hopes, concerns, questions and excitement. A short while later, contracts were signed and they provided the final hook by saying “Congratulations. You WILL be parents.”

Home studies, case worker interviews, writing birthparent letters to introduce ourselves, culling through lots of photos and taking new headshots, medical evaluations and more. All of these were on a checklist of things to do to be approved and “go live” – the day we are listed as approved and available to adopt. And while that checklist was extensive, it forced us to reflect deeply on why we wanted to parent and the lengths we’d go to in order to prepare.

And then you wait. Some wait two weeks or two months. Some wait two years or more. We were told that you never know when the match would happen and there was no rhyme or reason to be chosen. It began to seem like online dating or matchmaking services – you’re on a page of hundreds of photos and one-paragraph teasers. Lost in that sea of smiles and greetings, how in the world would we stand out and be noticed. For the first few months, though, we remained excited. One day we would get a call and we’d bond with the mom and have time to prepare. And that day was soon, or so we believed.

The bat phone did ring! After a bit of conversation, we realized it was a scam. An email would come in, but it seemed to phish for information. We were warned of these possibilities – emotional hooks to evoke sympathy and send money. Being online, this happens. Meanwhile time passed.

We went to a support group designed through the agency to speak with other couples going through the same. One by one we’d see them stop coming because, of course, they were chosen. We tried enhanced online advertising. We set up a Facebook page and got likes across the country. And more time passed. Doubt sets in, and hopelessness rears its head. What was wrong with us? Nothing. Why aren’t we getting chosen? No reason. Because we are a gay couple? Nope, some straight couples take longer than average too. Should we take new headshots, change our text, something else we can do? Nearly two years passed and we were exhausted with doubt and frustration and just resigned to patience and focusing on other things. It didn’t feel pleasant, but the advice we got was true – just keep waiting and when the right one calls, it will all be worth it.

A call came about a birthmother due for delivery that same afternoon. Though we prepared for a possible last minute call, the odds were we would match with someone a few months from delivery. Not so this time. With limited information we headed north to see what would happen. Anything was possible. She could change her mind. We could decide not to match with her (this could be for a lifetime if all went well). But we cautiously were optimistic.

We arrived at the hospital and the maternity staff knew we were coming. Whisked back to her room, we entered and locked our wide eyes. And for hours we got to chat. She was awesome. In a naturally awkward situation, we were all surprisingly at ease. This was definitely our match. We were invited into the delivery room by her and didn’t miss a beat. She emphasized over and over that she picked us and she wanted us to bond well with the baby. And then it happened – our daughter was born. How does that sink in – we have a daughter! It’s surreal, it’s amazing, it’s a moment, and it’s a lifetime. We love this little perfect ten-fingered baby girl more than anything and get to be the first to say hello to her. One of us cut the cord; the other the first to hold her. The bonding began.

Whisked off to the nursery while mom began recovery we never left her side and took care right away. Fatherhood kicked in out of nowhere when one of us barked at a nurse not to do anything without explaining what she intended to do. Still, to our surprise in retrospect, nurses and staff did not even give a hint of unease at the two gay guys wandering in and out of the women’s recovery area. They even gave us our own room, with one happening to be empty. We suspect they gossiped with each other at the nurses’ station at shift change.

Back home with no supplies, family jumped into action and got the basics to help us survive the first few days. Friends were elated and headed out for gifts – we were truly lucky. After three nights at the hospital and a crash course on infant care, we had a bittersweet moment to part with the birthmother and then three of us – THREE! – hopped in the car. And just like that, with no time to prepare, we became fathers. It’s been feedings, and diaper changes, and little sleep, and consoling. It’s been scheduling, and compromising, and communicating, and sacrificing. You take it one day at a time, and on some days one joyful minute at a time. And on this Father’s Day we have a newfound appreciation for so much in life shared now by the perspectives of fathers all around us – be they gay or straight, the feelings are mutual.