It’s a rainy Monday, and I’ve just dropped donor-dad (dad-donor? Dad? The “pretty much perfect”?) Rob off at the airport after a fantastic visit. Pathetic fallacy? I think so. Given that Air Canada decided not to go on strike and keep him here, Rachel and I are just going to have to take on all the soccer-playing, Pokémon-hustling, latte-making and chase-playing duties ourselves once again. This is hard, but we will prevail.
So here’s a little shout out to Rob and all the other queer parents who helped inspire my latest musings over at interfaithfamily.com today. Here’s a taste :
My partner, Rachel, met, Rob, the man who would eventually become our sperm donor, during her first year in grad school. Within weeks, she’d accomplished a major feat of advanced family planning: she managed to get him to commit his genetic material to us, well in advance of any concrete plans we actually had to have kids.
Finding Rob was a major coup. He’s pretty much perfect: kind, smart, good-looking, no unmanageable issues, interested in being involved with the kids but absolutely uninterested in parenting full time or having any say in parenting decisions. We’d struck gold with him — but it’s also true that he was the only man out of several we asked who was even willing to consider the possibility. The whole idea of “choosing” a donor is, actually, kind of misleading, implying that would-be same-sex moms can simply pick one of the dozens of tempting options dangling in front of them like ripe fruit.
So the fact that Rob wasn’t Jewish seemed like a minor blip to me.
Please read the rest and let me know what you think here or over at IFF.