Friday, September 30, 2005
Baby Daddy
My good friend "Weezie" is an interesting girl. She's in her mid to late 30's, works in the health care field and is divorced from the man from the Dominican Republic that she met on vacation many years ago. They dated for a few years via letters, phone, and her vacations to the DR. Well, about ten years ago they got married, he moved here, things changed, yadda, yadda, yadda. She kicked him to the curb and she's a single gal again.
Weezie has dated a few guys over the years, but the one thing she desperately wants before it's too late is to have a child. She has had her name on a list to adopt a child for a few years, but so far nothing has happened with that. She was dating a guy last year and was thrilled to discover she was pregnant. I'll never forget her telling me on New Year's Eve Day while we were out having lunch. She pulled out the little ultrasound picture and bowled me over with it. I was shocked and thrilled for her. Everything was going well for a number of months, and one day she went to the doctor's for a checkup and they didn't find a fetal heartbeat. As it turned out, the baby had died. He almost made it. There was about two months to go before he was due. Weezie had to deliver her still-born son, and it has had a devastating effect on her. You know, the type of thing where you just don't want to go on yourself. The autopsy showed that it happened as a result of a problem with the umbilical cord (if I understand correctly), and it is a very, very rare thing. It had nothing to do with Weezie, and the doctors said she should be able to carry and deliver another child no problem.
Well. One day a few months ago Weezie and I were out for lunch and she popped the question. Would I be willing to donate some swimmers? I was surprised, a bit shocked, but most of all very flattered. I guess I really shouldn't be too surprised though. I mean what woman wouldn't want an overweight, bald, forty-year-old gay man to father her child? Let's hope the baby has its mother's looks. It can have my eyes. But the hair and body...well, that would just be a sad thing to pass on to an innocent child. I should know. It happened to me. Thanks, Dad!
So The Squeeze and I had some discussions over it. He's a bit concerned about how a child will affect our lives. Since we've been together as just a couple for ten years, it would be a bit of a change for us to suddenly have a child in our lives. Even if it is just on occasional weekends as Weezie would be the primary parent. The child would know that I am his or her father, so it's kind of a neat set-up. The Squeeze's main concern is that he feels that his father was resentful of his children, and he's afraid that he might wind up being the same way. I think that the fact that he is aware of his father's shortcomings as a parent, and as he is scared of doing that too, his awareness greatly minimizes the odds of that behaviour being repeated. The other thing to bear in mind is that this child won't be with us 24/7. We would almost be like grandparents to the child. We're the ones who would take him or her to the park, go to all the fun places, feed him or her sugar and chocolate and return the child to its mother to contend with the aftermath. We'll be fun dads! So The Squeeze seems to be mellowed out to the idea now. I think his fears have been pretty much put to rest.
About three or four weeks ago Weezie called me and said "I have a package for you". I went by her house Friday night and she had some requisition forms for blood work and semenalysis. She also handed me a brown paper bag with a little plastic bottle in it. Actually, considering what was going into this bottle, it was actually quite big. My first question was "umm....I'm not supposed to FILL this am I?" No pressure. According to the rules, I was supposed to abstain from any sexual activity for 3 to 7 days. Since I had to wait about a week and a half until the following Monday when I was off work to get all the testing done, I figured The Squeeze and I had a few good days left, and then...let the dry spell begin.
On that Monday morning I went to the lab to get my blood work done. After several attempts, we finally located a vein. The lab tech and I joked about getting a tattoo of a bullseye for the next time. I thought it was pretty funny, but then again, I was down about seven tubes of blood, so what do I know?
Later that afternoon, I had my appointment to bring in "the sample" to the fertility clinic. So I had a bit of time to kill. Errands to run, things like that. But quickly the time approached. The sample had to be examined within 60 minutes of "collection". I'm about a 15 minute drive to the clinic, so I had to time everything out just right. The other option was to go to the clinic and collect it in one of their private rooms, but for some reason, I thought I'd just do it in the privacy of my own home. Actually, I know why. I sweat like a thoroughbred at the best of times. If I was umm....."rubbing one out" in a little cubicle I'd probably collapse of heat exhaustion, and quite frankly, I had no desire to be discovered pants down on the floor of the clinic.
Let's just jump ahead and say I collected my specimen, wrote my name on the bottle, put it in the brown paper bag (they really stress the fact that it must be returned in the brown paper bag), and raced to the clinic. I had a funny thought along the way. What would happen if I got pulled over by a cop for speeding?
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"Actually I do, officer, but you see, I have a bottle of semen between my back and the seat."
"Sure you do."
"Seriously officer, I need to get it to the fertility clinic right away."
"Right, that's a new one."
"You want to see it? I can prove it."
"Carry on, just watch your speed."
I was kind of hoping to get pulled over just to see how it would really play out, but the whole ordeal was pretty uneventfull. I got to the clinic, got buzzed through the security doors (all three sets) and handed over the sample.
"Thank you. We'll contact you in three to four weeks."
That was it.
The time is pretty much up now, but we still haven't heard anything back. I'm not even sure if my boys are swimmers or duds. Maybe all of this debate is moot. I guess we'll find out in the very near future, and I'll be sure to post the results here.
Last night Weezie called me. The adoption agency has a little girl for her. An 8 month old little girl named Zoe. Hmm...what does that make me? Can I still be the father? I can't believe this paternal drive I'm feeling. It was almost a let-down when I thought that this was the end of the road. Weezie told me that she still wants to have her own little baby too, so that's cool. I told her "you know, it seems that every time someone has an adoption go through, they wind up pregnant. Maybe even with twins...or triplets." We had a good nervous laugh about that.
In two weeks Weezie gets her baby. She gets to have her from the foster home for this weekend, so of course The Squeeze and I will be popping by for a visit. I'll have to run out and get some "It's a girl" chocolate cigars. Her two dads are dying to meet her.
Update:
Here she is.
Weezie has dated a few guys over the years, but the one thing she desperately wants before it's too late is to have a child. She has had her name on a list to adopt a child for a few years, but so far nothing has happened with that. She was dating a guy last year and was thrilled to discover she was pregnant. I'll never forget her telling me on New Year's Eve Day while we were out having lunch. She pulled out the little ultrasound picture and bowled me over with it. I was shocked and thrilled for her. Everything was going well for a number of months, and one day she went to the doctor's for a checkup and they didn't find a fetal heartbeat. As it turned out, the baby had died. He almost made it. There was about two months to go before he was due. Weezie had to deliver her still-born son, and it has had a devastating effect on her. You know, the type of thing where you just don't want to go on yourself. The autopsy showed that it happened as a result of a problem with the umbilical cord (if I understand correctly), and it is a very, very rare thing. It had nothing to do with Weezie, and the doctors said she should be able to carry and deliver another child no problem.
Well. One day a few months ago Weezie and I were out for lunch and she popped the question. Would I be willing to donate some swimmers? I was surprised, a bit shocked, but most of all very flattered. I guess I really shouldn't be too surprised though. I mean what woman wouldn't want an overweight, bald, forty-year-old gay man to father her child? Let's hope the baby has its mother's looks. It can have my eyes. But the hair and body...well, that would just be a sad thing to pass on to an innocent child. I should know. It happened to me. Thanks, Dad!
So The Squeeze and I had some discussions over it. He's a bit concerned about how a child will affect our lives. Since we've been together as just a couple for ten years, it would be a bit of a change for us to suddenly have a child in our lives. Even if it is just on occasional weekends as Weezie would be the primary parent. The child would know that I am his or her father, so it's kind of a neat set-up. The Squeeze's main concern is that he feels that his father was resentful of his children, and he's afraid that he might wind up being the same way. I think that the fact that he is aware of his father's shortcomings as a parent, and as he is scared of doing that too, his awareness greatly minimizes the odds of that behaviour being repeated. The other thing to bear in mind is that this child won't be with us 24/7. We would almost be like grandparents to the child. We're the ones who would take him or her to the park, go to all the fun places, feed him or her sugar and chocolate and return the child to its mother to contend with the aftermath. We'll be fun dads! So The Squeeze seems to be mellowed out to the idea now. I think his fears have been pretty much put to rest.
About three or four weeks ago Weezie called me and said "I have a package for you". I went by her house Friday night and she had some requisition forms for blood work and semenalysis. She also handed me a brown paper bag with a little plastic bottle in it. Actually, considering what was going into this bottle, it was actually quite big. My first question was "umm....I'm not supposed to FILL this am I?" No pressure. According to the rules, I was supposed to abstain from any sexual activity for 3 to 7 days. Since I had to wait about a week and a half until the following Monday when I was off work to get all the testing done, I figured The Squeeze and I had a few good days left, and then...let the dry spell begin.
On that Monday morning I went to the lab to get my blood work done. After several attempts, we finally located a vein. The lab tech and I joked about getting a tattoo of a bullseye for the next time. I thought it was pretty funny, but then again, I was down about seven tubes of blood, so what do I know?
Later that afternoon, I had my appointment to bring in "the sample" to the fertility clinic. So I had a bit of time to kill. Errands to run, things like that. But quickly the time approached. The sample had to be examined within 60 minutes of "collection". I'm about a 15 minute drive to the clinic, so I had to time everything out just right. The other option was to go to the clinic and collect it in one of their private rooms, but for some reason, I thought I'd just do it in the privacy of my own home. Actually, I know why. I sweat like a thoroughbred at the best of times. If I was umm....."rubbing one out" in a little cubicle I'd probably collapse of heat exhaustion, and quite frankly, I had no desire to be discovered pants down on the floor of the clinic.
Let's just jump ahead and say I collected my specimen, wrote my name on the bottle, put it in the brown paper bag (they really stress the fact that it must be returned in the brown paper bag), and raced to the clinic. I had a funny thought along the way. What would happen if I got pulled over by a cop for speeding?
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"Actually I do, officer, but you see, I have a bottle of semen between my back and the seat."
"Sure you do."
"Seriously officer, I need to get it to the fertility clinic right away."
"Right, that's a new one."
"You want to see it? I can prove it."
"Carry on, just watch your speed."
I was kind of hoping to get pulled over just to see how it would really play out, but the whole ordeal was pretty uneventfull. I got to the clinic, got buzzed through the security doors (all three sets) and handed over the sample.
"Thank you. We'll contact you in three to four weeks."
That was it.
The time is pretty much up now, but we still haven't heard anything back. I'm not even sure if my boys are swimmers or duds. Maybe all of this debate is moot. I guess we'll find out in the very near future, and I'll be sure to post the results here.
Last night Weezie called me. The adoption agency has a little girl for her. An 8 month old little girl named Zoe. Hmm...what does that make me? Can I still be the father? I can't believe this paternal drive I'm feeling. It was almost a let-down when I thought that this was the end of the road. Weezie told me that she still wants to have her own little baby too, so that's cool. I told her "you know, it seems that every time someone has an adoption go through, they wind up pregnant. Maybe even with twins...or triplets." We had a good nervous laugh about that.
In two weeks Weezie gets her baby. She gets to have her from the foster home for this weekend, so of course The Squeeze and I will be popping by for a visit. I'll have to run out and get some "It's a girl" chocolate cigars. Her two dads are dying to meet her.
Update:
Here she is.
# posted by Dave @ 7:53 PM 
