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Here We Go Again

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We are meeting with our donor next week to sign a new contract. We are going to try for another baby. This time, if all goes to plan, I will carry the next child.

There’s part of me that thinks it won’t work. That I might not be able to get pregnant. Why don’t I think it will work? I am not really sure. Maybe it is because I am in my late 30’s. Maybe it is because I am still breastfeeding Pidge and I still do not have a period (which, I am told, does not mean that I am not ovulating). Maybe it is because the reality of getting pregnant and birthing a child is so utterly foreign to my body that I cannot imagine it actually happening.

Pidge will be a great big sister. She has been pining to have another baby around. We got her a baby doll for Christmas this year. She was thrilled. It was hands-down her favorite gift. She lights up when she says “baby.” She carries her life-sized doll around, rocks the doll, tucks the doll in at night, sings to the doll, and kisses the doll. Like I said, she’ll be great.

But how will I be as the gestational mother? My wife did it so beautifully. She grew the most amazing person I have ever met inside her body and when it came time to give birth, she did it with grace and dignity in our very own home. Will I wear pregnancy and birth as well? I am trying not to compare. They say comparison is the thief of joy. I know I will have to just take it in stride and do the best I can for myself and for my family.

My family.

Right now my family is my wife, Pidge, and me. But my family and my heart can grow. We can add to our happy home. And next week is the first step.

Here we go again.

Iceland

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My wife was having a milestone birthday, and I wanted to surprise her with something big. It had been a long-time dream of hers to see Iceland, so I secretly booked a vacation for the entire family. She was beyond excited.

On December 31st, we packed our bags and headed to Boston. Our flight was scheduled for the evening of January 1st, so we were able to spend almost an entire day exploring our closest big city. We woke early and had breakfast at Pavement Coffeehouse. I loved being able to enjoy a jalapeno bagel with spicy vegan cream cheese, something I had not had since becoming vegan a decade ago. After breakfast, we spent some time walking along Boston’s Fort Point harbor. The weather was perfect. The sky was a bright blue and the air was crisp and fresh. We spent much of the day at the Boston Children’s Museum. Pidge had a great time playing with bubbles and exploring the many exhibits the museum had to offer.

We got to the airport early—too early for a 16-month-old. She toddled about the terminal, snacking on bananas, reading books, kicking off her boots, sprawling on the ground, and waving to every person she saw. We changed her into her jammies before our overnight journey and as luck would have it, she slept for most of the flight. My wife and I did not sleep, and we were quite exhausted by the time we reached the Keflavik airport at 5:00 AM. We mustered up the energy to rent our car and drive into Reykjavík. Our apartment for the week was located on the 5th floor in the city center. We had a view of the ocean and Mount Esja across the bay. We admired the view for a while, then we crashed.

We woke up a few hours later and decided to explore the city. We walked down many beautiful streets lined with multicolored buildings. We made our way to a vegan cat café where we enjoyed a nice soya latte and a late breakfast. Pidge loved the cat café. She made sure she said hi to every cat in the restaurant, pointing to each one over and over. “Hi, kitty! Kitty cat. Neowww.” We walked up to Hallgrímskirkja, the largest church in Iceland (244 feet high) and among the tallest structures in the country. It was incredible.

The locals are who convinced us to try the city pools. They said swimming in winter is an Icelandic tradition. We went to the pool and everyone is required to shower naked before swimming. It was actually nice to see how everyone was so comfortable with each other and with their bodies. So many people were engaging in conversations with us and chatting about Pidge—all while we were stark naked! Then we got in our swimsuits. There were 6 separate outdoor pools in the facility. We spent a lot of our time in the really shallow warm pool with Pidge, and then did a few laps in the big colder pool. Pidge even went for a dip in the big pool! We swam for almost two hours at night while the lights from the big (huge) church towered over us. It was simultaneously invigorating and relaxing.

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After swimming we went to dinner at Café Vinyl, the first all-vegan restaurant in Reykjavík. Pidge fell asleep on the walk, and continued to sleep on a couch in the restaurant. It was hilarious and adorable. That night, Pidge slept for 12 hours. I guess she was exhausted from our traveling, too.

The next morning, we all slept in and then had breakfast at a creperie in downtown Reykjavík. Although it was 9:00 AM, it was still dark out. It felt like we were walking through the city at night but for the fact that everything smelled like breakfast.

After breakfast, we started our drive around the Golden Circle. Our first stop was Þingvellir, home to the oldest parliament in the world and also the continental divide between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. We were able to walk between the plates, which was incredible. Rock towered over us on both sides. We were surrounded by valleys and fjords and waterfalls. We saw Oxafoss waterfall in Þingvellir.

After Þingvellir, we drove to Geysir. The ground smoldered and appeared alive. Mud pots boiled and the smell of sulfur filled the air. We watched as the Strokkur Geysir erupted and shot steaming water somewhere around 50 feet into the sky.

After Geysir, we headed to Gullfoss, one of Iceland’s most massive waterfalls. Gullfoss is actually two falls and it rises like Niagara. We learned the story of Sigridur, the daughter of a local farmer who in 1907 traveled barefoot to Reykjavík for a very long trial to save the waterfall from a businessman who wanted to turn the falls into a power plant. She won, and the falls remain today. They were spectacular.

After all that sightseeing in the cold and wet air, we decided to warm up in a secret geothermal lagoon that we learned about on an insider tip. It was incredible. Pidge loved soaking in the warm water.

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We got Icelandic pizza for dinner. It was topped with pesto, mushrooms, hot red chilis, Icelandic dulse (seaweed), shaved coconut, green onions, and sesame oil. We would have never dreamed of such a combination, but it was delicious! Pidge shared a little, but she was more excited about the pistachio-lime popsicle they gave her at the end.

On Friday we got up early to explore Iceland’s beautiful South Coast. We knew it would be a long drive, and we wanted to make the most of the precious daylight hours. We left Reykjavík and headed over the mountain toward Hveragerði. The mountain pass was dark and foggy and rainy. Driving was terrifying as you couldn’t even see the taillights in front of you! The darkness remained for hours, though the driving became less treacherous, thank goodness.

As the light began to break around 10:00 AM, my wife and I were left breathless by the astounding beauty. Mountains charged upward, towering over us on our left. We could not believe how tall they were and how sharply they rose. They had dramatic peaks and rocky ledges. Birds swarmed around them. To our right were the flat, black lava fields with veins of water that ran to the sea.

About three hours in we stopped at Reynisfjara, the volcanic black sand beach rated as one of National Geographic’s top 10 beaches in the world. We walked on the shore to find a large cave lined with basalt columns. Our photos do not accurately depict how enormous they were. Off the shore were multiple sea stacks, home to thousands of nesting birds. The massive waves crashed onto the shore as they traveled unobstructed from Antarctica.

Near Reynisfjara, we passed through the picturesque town of Vík í Mýrdal.  It sits in the shadow of Mýrdalsjökull glacier, which covers the Katla volcano. As we continued our drive, the sun began to shine brighter on the cliffs, which were covered in waterfalls. At one point my wife counted 11 waterfalls within sight of our car. A particularly beautiful scene, a group of Icelandic horses grazed below two tall, thin waterfalls.

The ground began to change. Fields and cliffs gave way to large expanses of black volcanic ash. The land was flat as far as the eye could see. Then, slowly, the lava fields began to take a different form. They piled and tumbled like groups of large, porous rocks. Moss covered the rocks. We pulled over and climbed a mound to take a picture of the moss and of the road we were traveling from above.

The mountains returned but this time every gap was filled with bright blue glacier. We were near Vatnajökull, Europe’s largest glacier. The glacier ice looked like it was spilling down from the mountainside. It was massive and we were unable to capture its wonder in our photos.

One of our favorite places in Iceland, we stopped at the Jökulsárlón is a glacial lagoon, bordering Vatnajökull National Park. Its still, blue waters were dotted with icebergs from the surrounding Breiðamerkurjökull Glacier, part of larger Vatnajökull Glacier. The Glacier Lagoon flowed through a short waterway into the Atlantic Ocean, leaving chunks of ice on a black sand beach. Pidge loved this place. She wanted to eat all of the large ice chunks!

We drove to Svínafellsjökull, an outlet glacier of Vatnajökull. To get there we drove over a very treacherous gravel road filled with potholes, large rocks, and waterways. Although the drive was certainly not for the faint of heart, it was incredible to see a glacier so close.

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We rested for the evening in a small cottage in a lava field. The air was still and soundless. We cooked dinner and enjoyed a bottle of red wine as Pidge squealed and ran around the cottage in the nude. She was happy to be out of the car for the evening. After Pidge went to bed, we relaxed in our own private hot tub. It was considerably cloudy, so we did not get a Northern Lights show, but I did manage to catch a quick glimpse when the clouds parted!

We left the cottage early on Saturday and headed back toward Reykjavík. We drove through farmland dotted with sheep and sang Baa Baa Black Sheep to Pidge more times than we can count. Pidge loved the song and the second it finished we would hear her husky little voice say, “Gah?” (translation: again?)

We stopped at the Skogafoss waterfall. It was massive! Skogafoss is one of Iceland’s biggest waterfalls with an astounding width of 82 feet and a drop of 197 feet. We put Pidge into her splashy suit in case she got wet. She stood there, geared up, smiling and waving at everyone. We jokingly called her Iceland’s official greeter!

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From there we went to Seljalandsfoss, a waterfall with a 200-foot drop. This waterfall is part of the Seljalands River that has its origin in the volcano glacier Eyjafjallajökull, a volcano that erupted in 2010. We put on our rain gear and hiked over rocks behind the falls into a small cave. It was incredible to watch the water tumble down from behind the falls. Pidge was completely intrigued and didn’t seem to mind that we all got completely soaked!

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On the way back to Reykjavík, we saw some Iceland horses very near the road. We stopped by and said hello, giving a friendly white one a little pet on the nose.

We got back to the city around 3:00. The sun was shining pink through the clouds, so we scurried down to the harbor to check out the Sun Voyager sculpture. However, just as we got to it the sun disappeared and the sky turned ominously dark. We were getting hammered by ice pellets! We pulled up our hoods and headed for the protection of the main road, stopping for some chips and a beer. Pidge charmed everyone in the shop, of course.

We ended the day by soaking in the warm geothermal pool as snowflakes gathered gently around us.

The next morning was my wife’s birthday. We celebrated by heading to the Blue Lagoon, one of the 25 Wonders of the World. It is located in a sprawling, 800-year-old lava field. The minerals in the water give it a milky blue color that is simply spectacular. It was awe-inspiring. We waded in as the mist rose above the warm water. We enjoyed the calm. My wife sipped champagne as Pidge bobbed in the water peacefully. We put on silica mud masks; Pidge looked so cute with the mask smeared over her tiny face.

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All in all, it was an amazing trip and Pidge was incredible the entire time. We are so proud of our tiny traveler. Our memories will certainly last a lifetime.

last night

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Last night was one of those nights. Where a few hours makes your whole day. Where the laughter piles onto laughter filling your whole house with joy. My wife and Pidge came home beautiful. Beautiful like our Christmas lights, bright in their simplicity. Beautiful and brilliant to me. We played and we laughed. I rubbed my face into Pidgie’s neck. Tickle tickle tickle. Her husky voice chuckled back. She smelled like a sunrise. She felt like cake. She flung her buttercream body onto the dog bed, flopping into her best pal. The beagle let out a sigh then nestled in. All’s fair in love and toddlerhood. Pidge let out a yawn. Night night.

My life is such a dream.

What’s Important

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“But you’re so good.” “But you can make so much money here.” “But… this doesn’t make any sense.”

Those were the responses I heard from the partners at my law firm when I told them I’m leaving the legal profession. In a way, they’re right. It doesn’t make sense. And yet somehow it does. Because more than success, more than money, more than anything, what I want is time. I want time with Pidge, time with my wife, time with my family. I want time to write, time to create, time to be me.

I’ve been spending a lot of time recently thinking about who I am and what is important to me. For so many years my identity has been wrapped up in being an attorney. But on August 14, 2017, I became a mother. My whole world changed.

And yet, it didn’t. I was still going to the office each day, still measuring life in 6-minute billable increments, still stressing about malpractice and procedure and the Civil Rules and the (dis)satisfaction of divorcing clients. I would spend time with Pidge on the weekends, or in the early mornings before I went in. At first, when I would leave her in the mornings, she would cry and scream for me, stretching her little arms my direction. Now she just says “bye” and waves. She expects me to leave her each day, and I hate that. When I come home late in the evenings, she’s already melting down. Maybe we’ll have dinner together. Maybe I’ll bathe her. Or maybe I will see her for 15 minutes before she needs to go to bed. I was missing my child. I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was a better way. Maybe I should settle for more.

I’m not sure who said it, but there’s a quote I think about often: “Don’t cling to a mistake just because you spent a long time making it.” I spent a long time becoming a lawyer. I studied and studied and studied and took the LSAT and applied to schools and got in and studied more and stressed and cried and graduated and studied and studied and passed the bar. Phew. Then I went to work. I worked in private firms and for nonprofits and as a public defender and as a solo practitioner and then back to private firm. And to be honest, I’ve not loved any of it. The closest I came to enjoying my career was when I was working as a public defender because I love being in court. But even that was arduous. I worked very long hours for very little pay. It was unsustainable. For me, every way I have practiced law has been unsustainable because it does not sustain me emotionally. I find no joy in sitting in an office by myself, staring at a computer screen answering countless emails. I am simultaneously stressed and bored. I like being in court, but time in court is sparse. I sit and stare at a photo of Pidge I have framed on my desk and my heart yearns for her.

I’m opting out.

I’m choosing what’s most important to me. I’m choosing my family. Today starts the beginning of a new adventure: I’m studying and preparing to become a teacher. While the pay won’t be as good as attorney pay, I am looking forward to having a schedule that is better suited for my family. I am looking forward to being able to exercise creativity. And I know that I will be a damn good teacher. I just will.

But anytime there is a big change like this, excitement is always tempered by fear. And I am afraid. I am afraid of walking away from financial security and from my future as a respected lawyer. However, I look at what that future looks like and I don’t want it. I don’t want to be a partner at a law firm, a business owner. I don’t want to be hustling for the next dollar. I don’t want to be afraid to take time off of work. I want regular hours, summers off, and a pension. I want a lovely, modest life filled with family and love.

It snowed on Friday. Pidge, who is getting over her first illness, toddled over to the window seat and stared at her backyard. She was looking at the same space she has seen every day for 15 months, but today it looked different. It was shimmery and white and fresh with promise. Pidge placed her chubby little hand on the glass, knuckles dimpling in that adorable way that they do. That’s my world too, little one. The same, but different. The same, but new. Let’s build a snowman. Let’s eat the snow. Let’s put on our boots and our mittens and our hats and do anything we want. Let’s do it together.

Together.

That’s what’s important.

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A letter to our (known) donor

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Dear [Donor],

“Adoodookrukra,” Pidge explains what she’s doing matter-of-factly. She flashes a toothy grin, nods, and goes back to her stacker toy. Her bottom lip protrudes as she concentrates. It’s so Pidge. We know this because we know this little girl—her mannerisms, her moods, her desires, her displeasures. She is our whole world; our everything.

How can we possibly express our gratitude? How can we ever say thank you enough?

Pidge was born and time stood still. Our once empty arms were filled with this tiny bundle of joy and wonder. Our hearts felt like they could burst. Over the past year, we have shared every moment with Pidge. From the first time she laughed, to her first tooth, to rolling over, sitting up, crawling, and her first solid foods. Every day has been magic.

You have given us such a gift. Pidge would have been impossible without you. Thank you—for your willingness to help us grow our family; for the self-sacrifice it took; for adjusting your schedule repeatedly to be on our clock; for understanding and respecting your role as a donor. You are more than we could have ever asked for. You are more than we could have ever expected. And we are so thankful.

Not many people would step up and offer something like this, but you did. Your kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity is a testament to who you are. We are so thankful that our daughter will have a piece of that. Many women who want to have a child end up using an anonymous donor at a sperm bank. They have no idea about who makes up half of their child’s genetics. We feel so fortunate that we not only know who makes up Pidge, but that her genetics were contributed by a person who we admire and who we would want her to emulate.

We understand that [your wife] was a part of these decisions as well. That also means a lot to us. Her support for you being our donor underscores how incredible both of you are. You two have given us something more precious than we could ever describe. You have given us family. We will forever be grateful.

Thank you. For offering this to us, for following through, for helping create Pidge, for… everything.

Love,

Us. [Mom, Mama, and Pidge]

Hello, again.

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Busy is an understatement.

Between work and home and baby (now, toddler!) everything is a blur. Days splash into days and tumble into nights that crash like waves. A series of nurse, sleep, comfort, nurse, wake up, snuggle, nurse, nurse, nurse. I’m tired.

That is not to say that it has not been wonderful. Outrageously wonderful.

I’ve been meaning to write about how wonderful it has been. In fact, part of the reason that I have not posted is because I kept meaning to write about my beautiful first Mother’s Day and I couldn’t bring myself to post anything until I had posted about that glorious day. We lounged in bed, open gifts, ate brunch, and then lazed outside, blowing bubbles and adorning our daughter’s hair with dandelion halos.

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It was perfect, and I meant to write about it, but I didn’t. Then I meant to write about other things, and I didn’t. And I grew tired.

Here’s to getting back on track, despite being tired. Here’s to the world’s best Baby (who from now on I will refer to as Pidge, her nickname). Here’s to sleep deprivation for all the right reasons, and here’s to hoping better sleep comes soon.

Here’s to the renewed commitment to blog, and to tell you about all of the outrageously wonderful things that have happened and that are happening in my tiny one-year-old’s world.

Dear Baby

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Dear Baby,

Let me start by saying that you are my world. My sun rises and sets with you. You bring me such joy. Because I am working full-time, I don’t get to spend as much time with you as I’d like, but when I do, it’s so sweet.

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I love waking up next to you each morning. You usually wake me up to nurse shortly before my alarm goes off at 5:30 AM. You make a little searching noise and I know that it’s me you want. I roll on my side and you nurse. Sometimes you coo and grunt while you’re nursing. I feel your tiny little legs kick, kick, kick me under the sheets. Not hard, but rather it’s as if your body is saying, “Oh, yeah. That’s the good stuff.”

I hear the buzzing of my alarm and I roll out of bed, careful not to wake you. I go through my daily routine — turn on the heat, start the coffee, put away the dishes, clean the cat litter, shower, pump. I wait for you to come down.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and know that it’s Mama. You’re in her arms, bright as a shiny new penny. You look at me with your open little face. Sometimes you give me a big smile. Other times you’re sleepier, staring at me glassy-eyed. Your mama hands you over to me and I melt. We snuggle for a bit and then I put you on your little potty to do your business. You baby-talk and bounce. We tie up your footie jammies in the back and it looks like your donning butterfly wings.

Then we play. We sit together on your rug and play with your book, your stacker, or any other toy. Sometimes you just roll around. I smile and stare into your perfect face, telling you over and over again how much I love you. Sometimes I cry when I have to go to work. Leaving you is really hard.

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But you are there, in my office. Your face adorns my walls and your smile is framed on my desk.

At 5:30 PM, I rush home to be with you. Mama is usually cooking dinner and you’re hanging out in your swing or on your play mat on the floor. Sometimes you give me a big smile but usually you just look up at me like, “Oh, it’s you. You’re supposed to be here.”

I scoop you up and we go upstairs so that I can change out of my work clothes. You sit on the bed and watch me. Once I’ve changed, I bound on the bed. You giggle. I kiss you all over and blow on your tummy. You squeal with delight. I kiss underneath your chin and you chuckle, “heh-heh-heh.” You smile so big that I can see all of your gums and the two small teeth you have on the bottom. After we’ve played, you nurse.

We eat together. I love watching you try out new foods. So far you’re a lot like me — you like things that are saucy. You like to suck the sauce out of broccoli. You like scooping up noodles or rice and slurping out the sauce. You’ve been surprisingly adventurous about spice, but if something is too spicy, you’ll hold your arms straight out to the side and shriek. You’re very good about communicating how you feel about things.

Most nights, we give you a bath before bed. You used to bathe with me but now you’re big enough to sit up in the tub on your own. You splash and play in the water. You like playing with a ping pong ball and with a cup. You watch that ball and you follow its movements in the water. Then you reach hard and grab it, so proud of yourself.

We head upstairs for bed. Mama has gotten everything ready, from your diaper to the sound effects to the twinkly rainbow lights above your bed. I tuck you in and you instinctively roll toward me. We nurse and snuggle and eventually you fall asleep. I kiss your little head and whisper softly, “Sweet dreams, my precious one.”

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Snow Day

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Snuggling under the warmth of a cozy blanket, I watch the snow fall gently through the window. Baby’s sweet murmurs, coos, and simple sounds fill the silence, punctuated by the occasional giggle. I can’t believe she is already six and a half months old.

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This has been a season of firsts. In December, we celebrated Baby’s first Christmas. My wife’s family flew across the country to be with us and we spent our days eating and laughing and attempting to sled through the knee-deep snow in our yard. Our plan was for my wife’s brother and his wife and baby to join us. Unfortunately, their daughter was too sickly to make the journey. They have been struggling a lot with her. My sister-in-law gave up on breastfeeding after four days and our niece has not done well on formula. She developed serious acid reflux and was hospitalized over Christmas. We were all very concerned. My wife and I offered to donate our surplus breastmilk to them, but they were unwilling to accept it. Today, our niece seems to be on the mend, though she is being medicated for reflux and she gets sick often. We feel so fortunate that our daughter has been nothing but happy and healthy during these first few months of her life.

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Although my maternity leave was too short and despite not wanting to work at all, I’ve been fortunate to spend the last six months working from home as a staff attorney for an international animal rights nonprofit. Although this experience was short-lived, it was wonderful while it has lasted.

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The flexibility in my schedule allowed me to be present with Baby as she moved through her early milestones: rolling over, laughing, sitting up, and starting solids. We are trying a Baby-Led Weaning (BLW) approach, having Baby join us during our meals and letting her serve herself selections from some of the foods we are eating rather than spoon-feeding her purees. It has been a joy to watch her discover tastes and textures. So far her favorite foods are green apples, avocado-filled tortillas, and spaghetti.

 

In addition to BLW, my wife and I have implemented other parenting strategies, many that are Montessori inspired. For example, after never using it, we officially returned Baby’s crib in February and replaced it with a full-sized mattress we placed on the floor. We decorated it with bright colors and pillows, but when Baby sleeps on it, all those things come off. We are currently in the process of baby proofing the entire room. For now, the new setup is working great, but we will see how we feel about it when she becomes mobile!

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We have also been practicing Elimination Communication (EC). This approach encourages learning and listening to Baby’s cues, and helping them to the potty when they need to eliminate. The idea is to help Baby avoid sitting in her own mess. Another benefit to doing this is that it often results in getting baby out of diapers much faster. In our experience, not only has Baby been receptive to this practice, she seems to enjoy it. We’re enjoying doing less cloth diaper laundry. In fact, we have not had to launder a poopy diaper in over two months!

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Baby is a traveler. So far, she has been to 15 states! We recently did two trips to New York City and Brooklyn, toured Philadelphia, visited my grandparents’ grave at West Point, and visited my wife’s brother’s family in Virginia Beach. We have taken Baby hiking through the snow and watched as the flakes gathered softly on her long, dark lashes.

 

My wife and I spend every Sunday downhill skiing on our local mountain. We take turns hitting the slopes while the other parent watches Baby. Our daughter spends her time on the mountain charming everyone she meets, from other skiers to the cleaning crew to the lodge bar staff. “A little skier?” people ask. “As soon as she can stand!” we reply.

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I have cherished every moment with Baby. In fact, I have been so present with her that I struggled to find time to update my blog. I am mesmerized by her—the way she discovers the world around her, the hard work it takes for her to do the simplest things such as bring a piece of food to her lips or manipulate her mouth and tongue to form the word, “Mama.” She is a wonder. Her next project is clearly crawling. Baby has been pushing her little hips up in the air from her tummy position, and using her Pikler Triangle to improve core strength.

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As the temperature began to warm (they dropped again this week), I took Baby to watch the ice jams in the river. For those of you who are not familiar, it gets so cold in Vermont that the rivers freeze in thick, icy sheets. As the waters begin to thaw, they crack off loudly and are carried by the current until they are pushed into the river banks. There, they pile up and create what looks like a stone wall. I pointed and explained the phenomenon to Baby. She squinted her eyes in the sunlight and squealed with glee.

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Last week, my mom flew out from California to spend a little time visiting with Baby and with us. We went for long walks, skied, and enjoyed an evening candlepin bowling. My wife decided having a baby on her hip was the key to success!

 

This Monday, I begin a new job with a firm in town. I’ll be focusing on LGBTQ and Family Law litigation, and possibly a little criminal defense. I’m excited to return to community-based practice and to the courtroom, but I am sad to be leaving Baby for nine hours per day. I just need to keep focused on the time I do have with her, remembering that while I may be a lawyer by trade, my primary job is Baby’s Mother. And it is the best job in the world.

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Regret

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I should have listened to my mother.

My mom was a stay at home mom. She hated the term “housewife” and often referred to herself as a homemaker. My sister and I would roll our eyes. We were too young to understand the value of a home, or the energy and effort it took to create warmth and cleanliness, order and comfort. Hominess. But even then, my mom’s role was not just homemaker, it was mother. She repeatedly claimed that being a mom, being our mom, was the best job in the world. Ungrateful as we were, we rolled our eyes even harder.

I know now what I couldn’t have known then – for me, just as it was for my mom, being a mother is the best job in the world. Being a mother is what drives me. It is what inspires my days. It permeates everything I do. It informs my reading choices, my eating choices, my drinking choices, everything. It is what I want to do. Problem is, it is the only thing I want to do and I can’t do it because I am a lawyer and the sole breadwinner of our family.

I made this bed. As a young adult, I was sure I wanted a lucrative and fulfilling career. I scoffed at women like my mother who warned that I may want to stay home with my children. Not me, I thought. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to have children! I passed over articles about work-life balance or about “having it all.” I didn’t need to have it all, I thought. I just want to have success. And for me, “success” meant a career, not a family.

Then my sister had my nephews and my thoughts on children changed. They might not be so bad. I wasn’t sure that I wanted any, but I wasn’t ruling it out, either. That said, I was still very career-focused and career-driven.

After college, my partner (now wife) put her career objectives on hold so that I could attend law school and pursue a career in law. I worked hard, graduated at the top of my class, and obtained employment. It wasn’t very lucrative. It wasn’t very fulfilling. I tried a different position. But the stress and 80+ hour work weeks nearly killed me. I tried yet another position. I soon came to realize that there were a few things I liked about being a lawyer, but there was a lot that I didn’t like.

Time moved forward. My wife and I married and a few years ago we bought a house. We built our nest and began to have discussions about filling it. By this time, I had come around to the idea of having children so much that I actually longed for one. We wanted a baby and because I needed to focus on my career, we decided that my wife should carry and birth the child.

After nine months of trying, my wife was finally pregnant. We were beyond excited.

About six months into the pregnancy, I had a talk with my employer about family leave. They had known my partner was pregnant, but seemed surprised that I would want to take time off when the baby was born. I was told that they would need to discuss the issue with HR. Discuss the issue, I thought. Aren’t I entitled to some sort of parental leave? I realized then that for all the laws I researched for other people, I hadn’t spent enough time researching the laws that impacted me. I looked up the Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA). I didn’t qualify. I was shocked and crushed. I hoped that maybe my employer would be altruistic, that maybe they would realize how much this meant to me. Instead, I was told what I already knew: I didn’t qualify for family leave. However, they added, if I wanted time off I could take an unpaid personal leave of absence, capped at four weeks.

I took the four weeks. They flew by.

When it came time to return to work, I bawled. I thought back to my mother’s words, “Once you have your own baby, you’ll know.” She was right. The pull to be home with my daughter was stronger than I could have ever imagined.

I didn’t love being a lawyer before I had a baby, and now I struggle even more. I hate leaving my beautiful, smiling baby girl only to spend the majority of my day stuck in front of a computer researching statutes. Maybe it’s the type of lawyering I’m doing, I think. I apply for new positions. But even these new positions lack luster.

I wish I could just stay home with our baby. I envy my wife, who spends her days snuggling our daughter, taking naps with her, playing with her, and keeping the house. We can’t swap roles or even both do part time work because it does not make financial sense. Because she can’t earn as much as I can. Because her career ambitions took a back seat when I went to law school. Because this is what we agreed on. Because I thought I knew myself.

I feel stuck. We need my earning potential. We need the money to pay our bills, to support our family, to pay off my student loans. But I need something to change. Something’s got to change.

I just want to be a mother.

 

 

Official

/ sugaronsnowmom / 3 Comments

My stomach began to flutter as we pulled into the parking lot.

“Why am I nervous?”

My wife looked at me and gave a knowing smile. “Because you’ve never been the subject of a court proceeding before.”

We were early, so my wife gave Baby a quick nursing session before we went inside. It was my turn to nurse her, but I was worried that I would run into a client and create an awkward situation. As a lawyer in a small town sitting in a courthouse parking lot, the odds of that were great.

“There she is!” The security guard’s booming voice greeted us warmly as we entered the building. “And you brought the little one!”

Ever since Baby arrived, court staff always gave me grief any time I showed up without her. “I can’t bring her to my hearings,” I would tell them, to which they would respond, “Excuses, excuses.” Everyone loved Baby.

“Why are you three here today?” They asked my wife and me.

“I’m here to adopt my own daughter,” I replied.

We had been preparing for this day for months. As a lawyer, I understood the importance of protecting my legal rights to my daughter, and her legal rights to me. I knew that my name on her birth certificate was not enough. I had read horror stories of families ripped apart and of the less traumatic but no less frustrating denial of dependent health insurance coverage. As a mother, I was frustrated that we had to jump through these hoops that heterosexual couples did not. My wife and I had planned for Baby, we worked together to choose a donor, to draft a contract and have it reviewed by another attorney, to conduct at-home inseminations, to carry a fetus for nine months, and to birth this tiny miracle. Baby was born into my arms, my name appeared on her birth certificate. I nurse Baby with my own body. I have her face memorized. Her smile brightens my day. She is my world. And yet, there I was – pleading with a judge to legitimize my role as her mother.

Vermont law demands a lot of same-sex couples who wish to solidify their families through second parent adoptions. Tasks include:

  1. Filing an extensive petition to adopt which includes but is not limited to financial statements, disclosures about extended family, a description of the length of time the petitioner has resided with the child and “how the petitioner obtained physical custody of the child including the date when placement happened and the petitioner’s relationship to the person or agency that placed the child with them” which, for many petitioners, is all of the child’s life;
  2. Filing a copy of the child’s birth certificate;
  3. Preparing and filing a notarized relinquishment by the sperm donor and waiver of counsel;
  4. Preparing and filing a notarized consent by the child’s biological parent;
  5. Filing copies of marriage and/or divorce certificates;
  6. Conducting a preplacement evaluation (home study) by a court-appointed qualified evaluator who may charge the petitioner a reasonable fee and preparing an extensive report containing detailed information;
  7. Background information about the social and health history of the child, history of any physical, sexual, or emotional abuse, school records, a social and health history of the child’s parents and extended family including but not limited to genetic history, hereditary conditions, racial, ethnic, and religious backgrounds, educational or vocational achievements, and learning disabilities; and
  8. A criminal record check of the petitioner, including an FBI national criminal history record check accompanied by a set of the petitioner’s fingerprints and a fee.

Thankfully, our local judge allows couples to forego the most invasive part of the process, the home study, so long as the couple provides the judge with ample recommendation letters. However, even that process is degrading and cumbersome.

We shuffled into a small side room near Courtroom 1. I tried not to draw attention, but colleagues who spotted us in the hall ran over to express their congratulations as well as their outrage. As one friend put it, “I’m glad we live in a time where this is possible, but I am sorry we live in a time where this is necessary.”

The judge didn’t seem to think it was necessary. He acted annoyed that we had taken up his time with, as he sees it, a superfluous procedure. We sat awkwardly as he carried on a one-sided conversation about how he’s seen an influx of second parent adoption petitions since Trump was elected president. No kidding, I thought.

“I only had one issue with your application,” the judge stated. “You sent me thirty recommendation letters from all over the world. I would have liked to see some more local people attest to your fitness to be a parent.”

I was appalled. Does he know how humiliating this procedure is? Does he have any idea what it’s like to have to ask someone’s permission to be a mother? Does he know how unfair it feels to have to adopt your own very planned-for baby when hetero couples get to be automatic parents after a one night stand? Clearly, he does not. I took a deep breath and forced out an apologetic smile.

The judge pushed over a few papers for us to sign. He signed his part, and then said he had to run.

Well that was anticlimactic, I thought as we walked back out into the hallway. Anticlimactic at best, uncomfortable and maddening at worst.

“Hey,” my wife said, trying to be encouraging. “This is your day. Let’s make it special.”

“Yeah,” I said. I smiled back at her. “Let’s go take some pictures.” We went back in the small room where our family was finalized and we celebrated. We celebrated legal recognition and legal protection. We celebrated Baby and we celebrated each other.

As we left, I realized that the judge forgot a crucial form, and sent my wife back in to sign it with the clerk. Ugh. I should run for Probate Judge, I thought. I would at least have the sense to fulfill the statutory requirements and to honor the families going through these types of proceedings.

Maybe someday, but not that day. That day, we left the courthouse and decided to explore. We went to Providence and ate a delicious vegan meal at a restaurant called The Grange. We put Baby in her stroller for the first time and checked out Brown University. Maybe you’ll go here someday, we dreamed.

Night descended and we returned to our car for the long drive home. I looked in the rearview mirror to catch Baby’s reflection as she slept soundly in her car seat.

It’s you and me kid, and today it’s official.

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