Maybe I Won't Break Up With The Gay Couple After All

So I tried to break up with the gay couple today and instead was presented with what I think could be a great offer.

Earlier this week they sent me an email saying they were ready to freeze their sperm and thought we should sit down and talk through all the logistics and details together. This freaked me out to say the least. I mean, I can't even manage a regular, heterosexual, one-on-one romantic relationship, and now I'm plunging head-first into a lifetime partnership with not one but TWO men who I barely know. I wrote them back and said that to be completely honest, I was nervous that we didn't know each other for very long and that I unfortunately don't have the time to get to know them (given my advanced age and withering eggs). I told them that because of this, I am leaning towards finding a "Known Donor" rather than a Co-Parent situation. Ideally I would love to have a father (or fathers) for my child who are proper parents in the way that divorced couples are to their children; but jumping into it with strangers is like eloping after the first date with no chance of annulment if things go bad. Basically, I'm too chicken to go through with it. I did agree to meet with them to discuss it further.

When I saw them today they seemed positively heartbroken. How did I get myself into this mess? All I want is a baby and now I've gone and ruined these guys' week. They described the mental roller coaster that this journey has been and seemed really depressed. It was awkward to say the least.

Then they came at me with a new proposition. They said although it's not ideal, they would be willing to be Known Donors. Now, what this means to them exactly I'm not 100% sure but it did perk my interest. I told them that I was incredibly grateful for the offer but I KNOW that they want to be active and involved parents and I would feel incredibly guilty taking that away from them. Their response was that yes, they would prefer to be co-parents but they could probably live with being known donors. They want to have a child that badly.

In my head I am already feeling better. In this new fantasy scenario I could be a mom, have sole guardianship of my child, and give the male influences that the child needs and deserves. My child would know who his genetic father is and be loved by not one but TWO dads. I would grant as much visitation as they would want but wouldn't have to negotiate every last little decision (where does the kid go to school? How do we deal with holidays? What religion do we raise the child? What is the child's last name? etc etc.). At first glance, it actually sounds pretty darn optimal.

I know there are huge risks here. They could change their minds at any time and fight for custody. They could become more involved than I would want them to be. Frankly, the opposite could happen - what if I build up expectations and they don't end up fulfilling them? So many complications could arise but I do feel that this is still better than having an anonymous donor. I want my baby to look at his or her father in the eyes and know that there is love there.

So today I look at my gay couple with new eyes. Instead of being irritated with Alpha, I see the possibility of being a single mom without the guilt of not providing the child with a dad. That makes me feel awfully good right now. Let's see how I feel in a few days or weeks. If the euphoria lasts, I may just go for it.

Jealousy and Friendship

The emotion that always stops me in my tracks is that little green monster called jealousy. I don't mean the kind where you are jealous of other girls looking at your boyfriend. I'm talking about jealousy of other people's lives. I'm unfortunately the kind of person who gets a knot in her stomach when she hears that someone is engaged, or pregnant, or just bought a house with her spouse. It's the trait about me that I am least proud of and although I try not to let it influence my friendships, it is hard.

So imagine my state of mind when I was going up north to visit my 4 best college girlfriends for the weekend, three of whom have children. We have been a "clique" since 1988 -- 22 years of friendship. These girls were at one time my very rocks of my life. We have of course all gone on to lead our own lives and although we vacation together about once a year, some of the friendships have drifted and it's partly due to this envy that I can't seem to shake. One of them lives the "perfect" All-American life -- husband, nice house in the suburbs, 2 beautiful kids, plenty of money, involved grandparents for the children on both sides, etc. etc. I love my friend but find that my jealousy makes me not want to stay in closer touch. Our friendship has become more of an acquaintance-ship. We make small talk, talk about the old days and ask each other who else we keep in touch with. And that whole exchange always makes me so sad.

So, given all of my recent baby-thinking and financial difficulties, I was not looking forward to the weekend with the girls. I just couldn't deal with the thought of watching their perfect lives unfold, and having to answer qusetions about what is new in my life. They all have homes, spouses, children, in-laws and jobs. I have none of those things and feel that I have nothing to contribute.

But, I went and I have to say, I'm glad I went.

Jealousy or not, these girls are still my home. We have the kind of friendship where we don't need to talk. We can just BE. We don't need to put on a show for each other. We don't bother to get dressed up and put on makeup. We can just be ourselves. My one "perfect" friend asked me what was new and I said "nothing" and that was the end of the conversation. I don't know if she sensed that I didn't want to talk, but either way we just moved on and enjoyed each other's company.

The funny thing is, I became the Pied Piper of all the kids. They all wanted to play with me all the time. I became their de facto leader. They loved me and they loved my dog (even the 2 young girls who were scared of dogs at the beginnign of the weekend). They held my hand when we went for a hike, and gave me a huge hug a the end of the weekend. We smiled and laughed and played and generally had a blast.

The only part of the weekend that made me sad is that this is exactly how I pictured us all growing older together. I pictured we would get together periodically with our children and all live happily ever after, drinking smoothies by the pool as our kids played. Which is exactly what we are doing. Except that I am the one who doesn't have children. The irony of course is that I am the one who always really WANTED to have children. So, I do feel a huge loss that I can't raise my kids with my friends.

So, I walked away from the weekend feeling even more determined than ever to have kids and pronto. And, I'm really glad I got to see and spent time with my ladies.

Co-Parenting as an Option

Since my last post, I have done quite a bit of research on co-parenting. I joined a support group here in LA for potential co-parents and I signed up with several websites that help you find others who want to co-parent. I've met some interesting people who want to have children and are willing to step outside the norms of the nuclear family to do so. I've also found a few weirdos.

I have spent some quality time with a gay couple that lives about 30 miles away from me. I met them through one of the co-parenting websites and they invited me to their house one evening. Based on their web profile, I instantly liked them. They are both very well educated, they own a home, have a couple of dogs and generally seem like my kind of people. The first meeting was a bit awkward, like a first date of sorts (except with not one but TWO men). Everyone was nervous. How do you go from "so, what do you do for a living" to "how would you like to share our lives for 20+ years"? without sounding like a psycho? We all talked openly about our lives and our families and what we want out of parenting. A nice evening all around but I was left feeling a bit "off". I was excited about the possibility of giving my child not one but TWO dads who love him or her. That made me so happy. They also talked about wanting to be really involved (as they put it, they don't want to be just weekend dads); they even mentioned the possibility of being the "primary" parents. That was a bit of a flag but I ignored it. Of the two, one of them (Alpha) did most of the talking and seemed super opinionated; the other (Beta) would be the biological parent (because they feel he is better looking). Beta was super quiet and shy, and seemed to have trouble finishing thoughts....he would sort of trail off and leave the end of the sentence hanging. Another small flag. Super nice but not particularly well spoken. But, it was a lovely enough evening and I liked them a lot, so we decided to get together again.

The second "date" was a gathering at their house with their family and friends. I hate going to parties, especially when I don't know anyone. Add on the pressure cooker situation of having to make an impression on all these people (including Alpha and Beta) and I was not really relaxed. I had a nice time at the BBQ and met another interesting set of co-parents. These people had a fascinating situation. It was another gay couple -- Blonde Guy and Brunette. Brunette was the biological dad and Blonde Guy's sister was the biological mother. This makes Blondie the biological dad and biological uncle. They all live happily together in the same home. I didn't ask too many questions (not wanting to pry) but they seemed like nice people and the kid seemed perfectly well-adjusted. Not exactly a Norman Rockwell painting but it seems to work for them.

The third date was at my house. By this point, I really feel like I'm in a relationship with these two guys and I'm starting to feel some pressure. By the end of that date I realized that I need to break up with them. Alpha is way too alpha for me and I don't think I could co-parent with him. I would feel judged all the time and could see all sorts of potential conflicts and possible custody issues arising. Also, it's uncomfortable that there are two of them and only one of me, which makes me feel outnumbered if there were ever a conflict.

So now I find myself needing to break up with not one, but TWO guys. Part of the reason I'm still single at the age of 40 is that I hate dating, and breakups and conflict, and I have put myself in this very twisted version of the same situation I have avoided for so many years. How's that for irony?

In the meantime, I have met another possible co-parent (Plane Guy) who so far seems very promising. He lives in another part of the state but owns his own plane so it is easy for him to come down to my area. He's tall, good looking, smart and seems to want to be a "weekend" dad. I only met him for a half an hour one time, but I think we are both interested in continuing to talk. My biggest concern with him is that I may not have enough time to wait for him. With a known donor, you have to bank the sperm for 6 months before starting the process (to test and re-test for HIV). By the time we spend some more time together and decide if we want to proceed, THEN wait 6 months, I may be 41. Yikes.

So, the journey and exploration continues. It's been a bit depressing and a bit exhilerating, depending on the day. Now I just have to figure out how to break up with 2 hippie gay guys.

Weirdest Pseudo-Date With a Prospective Known Donor Ever

What a weird life I live.

I've mentioned several times how much I struggle with the anonymous donor issue. I'm reading this fantastic book called "Knock Yourself Up", and there was one sentence in it that caught my attention and could end up changing my course. It suggested that some women find support groups to meet gay men who want to co-parent. Hmmmm......interesting approach!

So last week I did a google search for "co-parents gay los angeles" and ended up finding three websites and a meetup group, all of which allow people who want to co-parent to meet each other. The meetup group is more of a support group, while the other 3 are more like online dating sites, but for possible known donors and/or co-parents. Many of the prospective donors/co-parents are gay, and many of the donees are lesbian couples or single women.

I promptly signed up for all the websites, posted a short profile and looked for folks in the Los Angeles area who might be interested in being a known donor or co-parent. I've done the profile thing a gazillion times before, on various dating websites, but this was obviously different. I'm not really in it to impress anyone. I kept it short and simple, stating who I am (40 year old single straight woman) and what I want (known donor or co-parent in the Los Angeles area).

Turns out this is a bigger business abroad than here in the states. I understand why - in the states, you cannot contract the rights of a child, so no matter what agreement you come to with your donor or co-parent, it will not be enforceable. Very murky waters to tread. But, there are some folks out there who want to donate and/or co-parent so I found them and wrote to them.

One guy (who I refer to as The Narcissist) found me and wrote me a note. In his profile, he detailed how gorgeous and smart he is. According to his profile, he is 32 years old, 6 feet tall, very handsome, and a member of MENSA. He also made sure to mention that he has several gorgeous children created through artificial insemination. The kicker was that the picture he posted didn't seem to be a picture of a real person; it was clearly a picture of a beach model, 6 pack abs and all. Strange. Although I knew by his tone that he wouldn't be someone I would pick to be a donor, I agreed to meet him. I figured, what the hell, it's somewhere to start.

So, today was D Day. I met him for coffee at a public place (I even brought my dog, not that he would ever protect me but what the hell....plus, you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle dogs). Needless to say, he was NOT as described in his profile. First, he looked absolutely nothing like the picture he put up (which I suspected, because there was no way that picture was actually a real live person!). He was this skinny, nerdy Indian guy, pocket protector and all. Not at all bad looking but certainly not the model he described himself to be.

Now, I've been out on more blind dates than I can count, and if I do say so myself, I'm pretty good and keeping an initial conversation going for an hour or so. I assumed today's "date" would be the same. It wasn't. It was awkward, filled with weird pauses where I couldn't think of a thing to say. Asking questions about his personality seemed so silly, since I knew from the moment I saw him that he wasn't "the one". He told me that he has previously donated to another sperm bank, and he brought out all the medical tests and records from that, along with pictures of his 4 children. He also told me he wouldn't want any money from me, and is just doing this to do a favor to someone in need. Nice to hear but hard to believe.

Here's the kicker, though. When I was perusing through the results of these records, I saw his date of birth. Turns out he is born the same year as me, not 8 years later as it said on his profile. Innnnnnnteresting! That set off the hugest lightbulb of all. PEOPLE LIE ON THESE WEBSITES AND TO THE CRYOBANKS. You absolutely cannot trust one single thing people say. The only information you can rely on is the medical and genetic testing.

Today solidified in my mind the fears I've had about anonymous donors. What if I had gone onto a cryobank, seen his profile with no adult video or photograph, and decided to go with him? I would be getting something that was completely falsely advertised. Sure, he seemed like a nice enough person but he was not what he said he was.

I know I am fighting an uphill battle in terms of time (especially with the 6 month waiting period if using a known donor). But, at least for now, I just cannot wrap my head around not knowing the donor. I need to look this person in the eyes and get a feel for who he is. I know I am not marrying him or being intimate with him or (necessarily) even co-parenting with him. But I need to trust him as a person.

This co-parenting option is also something very interesting to me. I know how sketchy it seems and how ugly it could get. But, I'm going to explore it. In fact, tonight is Date #2 -- with a gay couple who wants to co-parent. Cross your fingers and who knows, I could end up being an SMC whose child has 2 daddies!

Holy Crap I'm 40

I spent my 30th birthday in a hosptial bed in the ICU in San Francisco. I had contracted a very rare and deadly blood disorder called TTP (Thrombotic Thrombocytopenia Purpura for those medical-type readers) as a result of e-coli poisoning. It was a bummer to say the least. I was in the hosptial for 39 days and by the time I got out, I had undergone blood transfusions, plasmapheresis, dialysis and chemotherapy.

That experience changed my life, to be sure. Within a year I quit my very lucrative job as a corporate attorney, and decided to become a filmmaker. I didn't know or care where I would be in 10 years. And now, 10 years later has arrived.

So when people asked how I felt about turning 40 last week, I tell them that, well, I'm alive, I'm healthy (fully recovered, thank you very much!) and I'm pursuing my dream, so really, how bad could it be?

Well......

I made a very deliberate choice to quit my job and change careers. I'm a freelancer now, which I love. What I don't love is not knowing what my paycheck will be week to week. I love being able to pick up and go to Texas, or Alaska, or Las Vegas, to shoot a movie. I don't love having to have a roommate, and sometimes having to shop for groceries at the 99 cent store. I love my friends. I don't so much love watching them get engaged, then married, then pregnant.

Until very recently, I looked at my 30s as a kind of adventure. Where would my next film take me? Who would I meet on my next project? I traveled, met lots of fascinating people, got a dog, did lots of hiking, spent time with my family, and went to film school (not in that order). All my friends were jealous because I followed my dreams.

But now, here I am, at 40. Still single, still living in a rented apartment with roommates, still struggling, still wanting a family. I look back at my 30s and can't help but wonder if it was all a bit too self-indulgent. Sure, I had a multitude of experiences both good and bad, but I don't have anything to show for them. Most people work hard and at the end of 10 years they have something....maybe a home, or a spouse, or a family, or a nest egg. I don't have diddly squat.

Needless to say, the panic has struck, my clock is ticking louder than ever, and I am realizing that all that time I thought I had is dwindling down to nothing. Financially, I am not ready for the fertility treatments or for a baby. I'm still struggling with the known vs anonymous donor issue. If I were 35, I'd continue to think. But I'm not 35. I'm 40. I don't want to lose another minute, another month, another cycle. I'm so freaking scared that it's too late for me.

I don't know how 40 crept up on me, but it did, and I have some work to do now to make my 40s count for something more than just my own selfish happiness.

Transition from Thinking to Doing

So R said "no" to being a donor, which was a big blow. I hadn't heard from him in the 4 months since I sent the letter, even after several phone calls and emails to him, so I finally sent him one last email PROMISING him that whatever his decision was would not affect our friendship. At that point I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from him in order to move on. So, he wrote back and said that he would not feel comfortable. It was a short email and didn't go into much detail, which is fine I guess because the decision was made and knew there was no negotiating or changing his mind. I promised him that our friendship was fine, and we proceeded to have a lovely brunch in NY with him and his boyfriend, where the subject didn't even come up. Wow, what a huge elephant in the room at that restaurant.

I I licked my wounds from that for a few weeks, then came up with another brilliant (or so I though) idea. Actually, I had been thinking about this plan for a while but was too chicken to do anything about it. You see, about 5 years ago I dated this boy (I call him a boy because he is 9 years younger than me) who is gorgeous, smart, well educated, from a good family etc. Good genes, right?! We have stayed friends (acquaintances, really) over the years and periodically one of us calls the other wondering why in the heck we ever broke up in the first place (I always remember after just a few minutes with him). Well I finally got up the nerve to call him. Turns out, though, that he now has a girlfriend and he told me it is getting serious and it would be disrespectful to her if he spoke to me or saw me. It was sweet, actually, to hear how traditional he is (I mean, aside from the sharp pang it caused in my gut to hear that from a former lover). I actually was pissed at myself for totally misreading how traditional he is. Of course, my fantasy at that point came crashing down. Here in the back of my head I had been thinking, HOPING, that I could find a known donor who would want to participate in some way in being a dad or a dad-figure. In order for me to move on, I need to accept that my fantasy is just that, a fantasy, and is NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. The truth is, I truly am going to be alone in this journey and I am going to need to accept that if I'm going to make this happen.

And I want to make this happen.

Next step: I joined Single Mothers by Choice, an organization with thousands of members just like me. I read all the literature and daily emails. I am now looking into sperm banks and am hoping to make some serious choices in the next few weeks.

Speaking of sperm banks, the number of sperm banks and donors is kind of overwhelming, so I am trying to figure out which ones to start with. Since It is really important for me to find an "Open ID" donor, ie someone who is willing to be contacted when the child turns 18. From everything I've read, it seems that children of anonymous sperm donors seem to feel an emptiness that comes from looking in the mirror and not knowing what he is looking at. So I really want to give this person pictures and video of the donor, as well as the opportunity to find him when he/she turns 18. If it were me, I would want that option, so it's the least I can do. Not all banks have this option, though, and of those that do, only a small percentage of the donors are willing to be Open ID. So, I'm looking into which sperm banks have the most Open ID options.

More decisions to come. One of these days I may even get around to telling my own Dad my plans. Well, that struggle for another post.

If I wait Could I Ever Forgive Myself?

3 of my closest friends have had their babies in the last several months. My best friend of almost 30 years had hers 4 days ago. She had a really difficult pregnancy, and she HATED being pregnant as a result, so I was so happy and relieved on Tuesday when I heard that she and the baby were healthy and happy. I've been to visit her in the hospital every day since, and I'm surprised to say that the ever present green monster only roared it's head one of the days. Most of the days I was happy to sit with my friend, her husband and their beautiful baby girl. I was happy to hold the baby, watch the baby and talk about the baby. But on the third evening my jealousies came out to get me once again and I got SOOO SAD. Sad that I may not ever experience any of this. Sad that even if I did, I would be all alone. Sad that I will not have a spouse to stay with me in the hospital or at home round the clock to help me and the baby. Sad that there won't be another person to love my child as much as I do. Sad that I won't have someone to turn to when the baby does something super cute, and just smile that knowing smile of "look what we made!"

I have not heard from R about the letter I sent. It's been less than 2 weeks so I'm not surprised, but now the nightmares are starting. Every night I dream of a different way he can tell me "no". So I just wait.

Sometimes I feel like I'm doing this for the right reasons, but other times I doubt myself, my motives and my logic. Sometimes I think it's jealousy of my friends and acquaintances that propels the decision. Sometimes I think I just want it because everyone else has it and I don't want to feel somehow left out. Let's face it, it's easy to feel left out when your friends all have kids. Today I was invited to a birthday party but my friend who invited me said "but you probably won't want to come; I mean, it's just gonna be a bunch of families with kids". She meant well but man that stung. Then I start to doubt everything -- I'm in no financial position to support a child, it's not fair to bring a child into the world without a father, etc., etc., etc. The doubts are endless.

But then there are times where I feel in my gut I have to do it. I have ALWAYS wanted to be a mother. I have always loved kids and they pretty much love me, too. I am in many ways a kid myself -- I still have visceral memories of what kids like, want and need. I have a natural instinct for nurturing and teaching. I feel that it is somehow a calling of mine. And at 39, I better fucking do it now or I could regret it forever.

I heard a song this morning on NPR, and the first lines went like this:

It's not right

But it's now or never

If I wait

Could I ever forgive myself?

And the answer is No.