- Although I never had the desire to have children, I found myself trying to convince myself otherwise when I was in a relationship with a man.
- However, everything changed when I met my queer partner and realized that I did want to be a parent.
- Currently, my partner and I are navigating our journey to parenthood by attending an LGBTQ+ parenthood class.
“As a middle-school feminist, I confidently declared to my mom that I would never get married or have children,” I reminisced, adorned in my Limited Too jeans and Claire’s dangly earrings.
Being brought up in a Christian environment, marriage and children were expected to be the focal points of my life.
Although I hadn’t yet discovered my queerness or fully developed my feminism, I knew deep down that pursuing a life with a husband and children would hinder my true desires—to be independent and embark on adventures. But everything changed when I met the right person.
As I entered adulthood, life became more complex
At the age of 22, I began dating a cisgender man six years my senior. We both cherished our individuality and were uninterested in having children. However, as he neared his 30s, his perspective shifted. The decision was left up to me: should I join in or end the relationship?
It should have been a straightforward choice. I identified as queer and never had the desire to become a parent. However, I grew up in a world where a queer existence seemed impossible to attain. Perhaps my resistance to wanting children stemmed from a fear of emulating my own parents, or maybe I was so focused on defying societal expectations that I couldn’t discern my authentic desires.
Caught in a state of confusion and fearful of being alone, I convinced myself that I could adapt to his desires. Yet during the final two years of our relationship, I was tormented by the commitment I had made. I attempted to convince myself that parenthood would be fulfilling if I devoted more time to personal growth and healing. Although my partner was a good person, capable of being a great father, I struggled to genuinely want what he desired.
In the end, I couldn’t continue pretending, and the inevitable breakup ensued. The guilt of not leaving sooner weighed heavily on me. I had stolen valuable years from him, years that he could have spent with a partner who truly envisioned a future by his side. I vowed never to hurt someone—or sacrifice my own happiness—in such a manner.
Everything changed when I met my queer partner, Quinn
Dating Quinn was an embodiment of the love and connection I had anticipated my entire life. Our bond formed rapidly, and when I contemplated our future, an unwavering certainty and excitement coursed through me.
One night, as we lay in bed, Quinn nervously confessed, “I want to have a baby. I know you don’t, and that’s okay. I can do it alone.”
Given our polyamorous relationship at the time, we had the freedom to structure our connection however we pleased. However, the thought of Quinn starting a family without me sent a wave of sadness through my heart. A newfound desire awakened within me, and I couldn’t envision a more fulfilling purpose in life than to share love with this person and create a family together.
“I don’t want you to do it alone,” I responded slowly. “Let’s do it together.”
The decision to have a baby didn’t resemble my previous straight relationship
For me, it wasn’t merely a matter of having or not having a child. It was about bringing a child into the world with the person I truly desired.
During my days as a closeted queer individual in a heterosexual relationship, having a baby with my partner felt like a validation of my straight identity, forcing me into a cisgender heterosexual life. However, with Quinn, our family could take on any form we desired. I wouldn’t be confined to the predefined role of a mother, and I wouldn’t have to undergo childbirth, something I never wished to experience. The conventional rules no longer applied; we had the freedom to choose our path.
As we lovingly put our 3-year-old godson to sleep and adoringly admired our baby niece, we allowed ourselves to dream of the possibilities and envision our unique journey to parenthood.
We are currently planning and exploring our desired path to parenthood
Of course, our path to having a baby isn’t without its challenges. In our LGBTQ+ parenthood class hosted by Philadelphia Family Pride, we were informed about various options, including adoption and the use of donor sperm. We also gained insight into legal considerations, such as donor agreements and second-parent adoption.
Despite the fears that linger, such as the potential impact on my social life and the concern of a unique bond forming between Quinn and the baby as the nonbirthing parent, I remain determined. How will we afford costly procedures like intrauterine insemination and in vitro fertilization if they become necessary? Will my anxiety, which is already heightened when it comes to the safety of my loved ones, become overwhelming?
Nevertheless, I know what I want, and I know exactly who I want it with. As Quinn and I playfully swing our godson between us, lifting him off the ground in unison, I meet Quinn’s gaze, and our future becomes clear. We share a smile that speaks volumes.
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