Journey to Same-Sex Parenthood

by Eric Rosswood

  “Hello and thank you for coming,” the trainer began. “I know that you’d all probably rather be tucked up in bed at this time on a Saturday morning.” She set the tone for what became a warm-hearted and fun training session. First up, however, were the introductions. “Let’s go around the circle introducing ourselves and what age group you might be looking at fostering.”

  Kerry has always been pretty confident about being openly gay, but hated any form of public speaking. I, being a teacher, had grown somewhat better at public speaking, but had struggled for years to talk confidently about being gay! Every other couple in the group was heterosexual. Never mind. Be brave, Lisa, I told myself. I’m learning that “coming out” is not a one-off. It’s an ongoing, lifelong scenario I have to get used to.

  I introduced myself and spoke of our interest in looking after children on a respite basis—some weekends and school holidays to fit around work commitments—with a preference for newborns to five-year-olds. I finished by saying, “And this is my partner of several years, Kerry.” Introductions done! No gasps from the audience, no shocked expressions. Any private thoughts were not aired. We felt good and, I have to admit, a little bit relieved, too.

  By early 2011, our foster care application was ready to be handed to a panel of counselors, experienced foster parents, committee members, the Head of Fostering Services and a number of other officials and professionals. By that time, we had been assigned a supporting social worker who guided us through each stage of the process. The big day arrived and Kerry and I made our way to the local Fostering and Adoption Head Office to face the panel.

  The anticipation was slightly apprehensive and the occasion quite formal, with a panel of a dozen people sitting around a large oval table—our application in front of them—and deciding whether or not we were fit to look after children. However, after a few simple questions and a more informal conversation than I had expected, our application was supported unanimously and we were approved as foster parents.

  We didn’t have to wait long before our supporting social worker came for her routine monthly visit with news of a little girl in need of respite care on a regular basis. That May, the little seven-year-old had her first visit with us and three years later, she is still visiting every other weekend. At bedtime for the first several visits she had a few tears, because she missed her home. Now she can’t wait to come and arrives bounding in with nuclear energy. Last year she wanted to stay for Christmas and even wants to call us both Mummy. Our two little cats find new hiding places every other weekend and our calm, peaceful home life gets turned upside down as it’s given the exuberant gift of youth each fortnight.

  Since our first panel meeting, we have fostered several other children and attended annual panel review meetings. The children and families we supported have responded positively towards us as caregivers. I believe we’ve had the opportunity to truly share our lives, being visible in our diversity and demonstrating “normal” family life and a “normal” positive and supportive relationship. Furthermore, we are now approved to foster two children from newborn to eighteen years of age on a respite or intermediate basis. More recently, we have been asked to be foster care mentors to support newly approved foster parents beginning their journey towards fostering and maybe even adoption.

  The inevitable question of sexuality arose one day when one of our children asked, “Are you girlfriend and girlfriend?”

  Quite simply and honestly, we replied with age-appropriate awareness: “Yes, some girls love boys, some girls love girls and some boys love boys. We love each other just like any other husband and wife.”

  “Are you gay?” the little girl continued.

  “Yes, some people say ‘lesbian,’ some people say ‘gay,’” we replied pragmatically. “Either way, we just know that we love each other and that’s okay.”

  As Kerry’s grandmother once said, “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

  At one point, we looked after a wonderful two-year-old girl and had her in our care for over eighteen months. Kerry and I hoped to adopt her, but that was not to be on this occasion, as she eventually went to live with her birthfamily. The council’s policy of “keeping families together” mandates that children should be with their birthfamily members wherever appropriate.

  Although this sweet girl has moved on to her new home now, she still makes us little creations at her nursery and drew a portrait of Kerry and me. We are still in touch with her and she will always have a special place in our hearts. Her portrait is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen and it made both Kerry and I very emotional. The girl turned four recently and has progressed so much. To have played a big part in her development has been the most rewarding thing we have ever done as a couple.

  Kerry and I have found ourselves once again enjoying the freedoms and pleasures of life together, but never rule out fostering or adoption possibilities in the future. We know for sure now that we could give a child a wonderful life.

  PART 3

  SURROGACY

  A surrogate is a woman who carries and gives birth to a child on behalf of another person or couple. There are two types of surrogacy: traditional and gestational.

  With traditional surrogacy, the surrogate is also the egg donor, meaning that she is the biological mother of the child. She is typically impregnated through a process known as intrauterine insemination (IUI), where sperm from the biological father is transferred into her uterus. With gestational surrogacy, the surrogate and egg donor are not the same person, which means the surrogate is not biologically related to the child. In this scenario, pregnancy is achieved through a process called in vitro fertilization (IVF), where the donor egg is fertilized in a laboratory prior to being transferred into the surrogate’s uterus. It is important to note that every state that protects families who utilize surrogacy requires the gestational method.

  Surrogacy agencies help match prospective parents with potential surrogate mothers. During the matching phase, future parents and surrogates interview each other to make sure everyone has the same intentions for the surrogacy journey. How much contact and communication do they want before and after birth? Will there be any dietary restrictions? Do the future parents want to attend doctor visits?

  Once there is a match, all parties involved set expectations and sign contracts in the beginning. This normally makes for a harmonious experience for everyone involved, but that’s not to say there are no challenges or complications. Surrogates have to go through a lot of medically invasive procedures and these procedures can sometimes be difficult and uncomfortable. It can also take multiple attempts to conceive and miscarriages are common in these types of pregnancies. It is important that you speak with a medical professional to get a clear understanding of the potential complications that could arise.

  One of the benefits of surrogacy is that you have the opportunity to witness and be a part of the pregnancy journey. You can be present for sonograms, the baby’s first heartbeat and even the birth. All of that comes with a price, though. When taking into consideration the cost of hiring a surrogate, possibly paying a portion of the surrogate mother’s living expenses, the cost of the medical procedures, agency fees, lawyer fees and more, you’re looking at somewhere over $100,000. On top of that, many insurance companies will not cover the costs of the fertilization or delivery when using a surrogate. Surrogacy is by far the most expensive journey to parenthood.

  Because of the large sums of money involved, you need to make sure you’re not being taken advantage of. There are plenty of scams that prey on unsuspecting people with dreams of building a family. Make sure you research potential agencies thoroughly prior to working with one. Don’t make your decision based on a well-designed website or the testimonials found there. Ask for references so that you can speak directly to people who have been through the program. Contact independent physicians, attorneys and mental health professionals for objective opinions about the agency and program you are considering. Als
o, make sure to seek the advice of an independent attorney who can oversee the process and advocate on your behalf.

  This section of the book explains what it is like for people in the LGBT community to go through the surrogacy journey. It also compares domestic and international surrogacy and provides examples of unexpected things that can occur along the way. For instance, what happens if a foreign government makes it complicated for you to get a birth certificate and passport for your child after he or she is born outside of the United States? What is the process like for people who live in states that make it difficult for LGBT couples to adopt? And for those of you who want to know how men in same-sex relationships might decide which one is going to biologically father the child…well, that’s covered too.

  David and Josh

  WEST PALM BEACH, FLORIDA

  When talking about how they became parents, gay people often describe it in terms of being on a journey. This is an understandable metaphor, because the process of becoming a parent as a gay person is often a long, complicated and uncertain undertaking with a highly desired outcome at the end. In our own situation, we have found the term to be entirely appropriate as well, as our journey to parenthood has taken us across the country and eventually around the world.

  Josh and I met in our home state of New York and have been together since 1997. From the early days of our relationship, we liked to escape the crowded city on weekend getaways and have earnest conversations in the car about our future while gazing out on the open road. Josh comes from a large and close extended family and has always wanted children. I wanted children too, but was more reserved about it, because I have always taught myself not to long too hard for something that’s unlikely to come to fruition. It was the 1990s. Gay men having babies together was still exceedingly rare.

  Josh moved to Florida in 1999 to help out with a family business and I followed shortly thereafter as soon as I finished school. We suddenly found ourselves in a state that was rather hostile to gay people and still had laws on the books dating back to the days of anti-gay activist Anita Bryant, such as one that specifically forbade gays to adopt. Circumstances did not appear favorable, but Josh was undeterred and did his own research about our options. In 2005, he came across a book about gay fathers that described the process of surrogacy in California. We learned that it was possible to work with a woman who could undergo in vitro fertilization (IVF) and carry a baby for us.

  If the donated eggs did not come from the surrogate, but rather an anonymous donor, it was possible to go to a California court prior to the birth and have maternity declared to be “in doubt.” Then both of our names could be recorded as parents on the birth documents. After a great deal of discussion, we made a trip out to California to visit an agency that specialized in surrogacy with gay clientele. My enthusiasm grew.

  Circumstances appeared to align perfectly with the temporarily insane American housing market telling us that the modest home we purchased a few years earlier was worth twice that amount in 2006. So we took out a home equity line of credit and set up a trust to fund the expensive IVF process. This method of paying for the first leg of our journey meant that we were younger and of more limited means than most of the agency’s clients. We discovered that typical surrogacy clients were either independently wealthy or had been saving up for many years.

  We were paying top dollar for a concierge-type service and the agency in California carefully coordinated the process from beginning to end. They connected us with a prestigious IVF doctor in Beverly Hills, had their lawyers prepare our case for the family court process and compiled a large database of potential egg donors for us to select from.

  Because I’m of Asian descent and Josh is Jewish, we always planned to have mixed race children who might hopefully reflect both of our heritages. To that end, we sifted through the numerous blonde Hollywood headshots to find profiles of Asian and Jewish egg donors. We selected the egg donor we felt had qualities we wanted in our children, like a keen intellect and strong career aspirations. Then we contributed the complementary sperm donation from our side of the equation to make the embryos for implantation. We have always chosen to keep the exact genetics of our situation confidential, because we both want to be treated equally as parents. Even though plenty of people have come to their own conclusions along the way about what happened, the fact that we have neither confirmed nor denied the specifics has introduced enough doubt to keep the speculators at bay. Besides, we have always felt the children should be the first to know about their true genetic heritage when they are old enough to understand.

  Josh has always said that the one part of the process the agency in California really aced was matching us with our surrogate, Marie. We filled out lengthy questionnaires and constructed an introductory profile of ourselves, describing our hopes and expectations. The agency searched their pool of carefully screened prospective surrogates for women with similar expectations and presented our profile to make a match. Marie has told us that we were not the first profile sent her way, but the first she agreed to, because Josh and I were relatively young and seemed sturdy enough for the task of parenting.

  The agency arranged a meeting for Marie and us in October 2006. We hit it off immediately. She was a military wife raising two small children and she lived with her husband, who was stationed on a base outside San Diego. We have joked that what followed was a typical whirlwind “military romance,” because Josh and I were parents by July 2007.

  Coincidentally, Marie was cycling in synchrony with our chosen egg donor, so the egg retrieval, fertilization and embryo transfer were all scheduled within days after we accepted Marie as our surrogate. A month later, we were back on a plane to California. On the big day of the embryo transfer, our IVF doctor told us that only a few embryos had developed, but the ones that did were of good quality. This meant that we didn’t have enough embryos left over to freeze and try for a second cycle if the first transfer didn’t take.

  Knowing that we might have to start the egg donor selection all over again if our first try was unsuccessful, we decided to take the “all in” approach and transfer the maximum number of embryos allowed by the doctor: three. We felt capable of handling a single baby or twins, but planned to reduce the pregnancy in the event of triplets, because high-order pregnancies are risky and we were not gambling with our own bodies, but with Marie’s. Luckily, we didn’t have to make that hard decision: Over the holidays, we were blessed with the news that Marie was pregnant with twins!

  Over the course of the next several months, Josh and I took turns traveling from Florida to California to attend medical visits and spend time with Marie and her family. We both attended an OB/GYN appointment early in the second trimester for a 3D ultrasound and learned that we were expecting two boys. On the last weekend of June, Josh went out to California to attend the thirty-two-week ultrasound and everything seemed to be on track with the pregnancy. He finalized plans with a hotel to check in for one month near the due date and after a walk-through at the hospital maternity ward, he took a red-eye flight back to Florida on Sunday night. I picked him up at the airport early Monday morning so we could both go to work. By the time we were getting ready for dinner on Monday night, we received a call from California that something was amiss.

  Marie had noticed a light sensation in her chest earlier that day after doing some housework, but she attributed it to stress and fatigue from the activities of the preceding weekend (aside from Josh, she also had family in town). She went on about her day and drove herself to a scheduled OB/GYN visit, only for the doctor to discover that she was in ventricular tachycardia with a very rapid heartbeat. The OB/GYN ordered her to the hospital immediately and a team of doctors tried decreasing her heart rate, but the medications they used seemed to be inducing preterm labor at thirty-two weeks. We received the phone call feeling powerless, learning that an emergency C-section was becoming inevitable—and we were not going to be there.

  JJ and AJ were born and immediatel
y transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). We booked the earliest flight we could find to go back to California on Tuesday morning—it was the very same plane Josh had just flown on twenty-four hours prior. We rushed directly to the hospital and checked with Marie to see that she was recovering well before meeting our sons for the first time. Upon receipt of the legal paperwork from the agency, the hospital staff was very kind and treated us like any other parents visiting their children in the NICU. The nurses took our picture and placed it in the incubator isolettes so JJ and AJ could become familiar with gazing at their new parents.

  Then the nurses proceeded to give us a wonderful crash course in caring for premature infants, including everything from feeding issues to tiny diaper changes. We spent the next five weeks camped out in an extended-stay hotel close to the hospital, visiting every few hours to participate in feeding and baby care. Marie had graciously agreed to pump breast milk to help the twins, so we also served as the “milk men,” picking up frozen bottles from the military base and shuttling them to the NICU so we could thaw the milk and feed it to the boys.

  Our sons had a few typical preemie issues with feeding and breathing, so when the boys were finally discharged from the hospital in early August, they were sent home with apnea monitors strapped to their chests to ensure their breathing remained regular. We were instructed to spike their bottles with pharmaceutical caffeine to ensure they never fell into a deep enough sleep where they forgot to breathe. A week after being released from the hospital, the boys were cleared to fly. We said our goodbyes and left California to come back home to Florida. However, we still remain in contact with Marie to this day. Whenever we post photos of the boys on social media, she or her mother are usually the first to comment!