"So who will be the 'real' mother?"

It was pretty easy for Nicole and me to decide who would carry our child. Our reasons are threefold:

1. I desperately want to be pregnant. Nicole desperately wants to avoid it.

I have ached for this my whole life. For the few years that I thought I didn't want to have children, I struggled with and grieved the fact that I would never get to experience pregnancy. Nicole, on the other hand, had sort of gritted her teeth and accepted that she may have to endure such torture in order to create a family. She was quite relieved when she met someone who was not only willing to be pregnant both times, but eager and excited to do so. This is not something she can relate to. Ironically, we both feel extremely grateful to the other for our stance on this!

2. I have a very regular cycle and am likely (knock on wood) quite fertile. Nicole has PCOS and a very irregular cycle.

This doesn't mean Nicole isn't fertile or couldn't get pregnant, but it would likely take much longer and become quite costly. We have to pay for our sperm each time, and we have to take off of work every time we want to try to conceive.There's also a cap on how much our insurance will cover. If Nicole decides suddenly that it's important to her to become pregnant, then we will do our best to accommodate this. But it certainly helps to utilize the partner with fewer barriers to pregnancy, since it's going to take time and money to make this happen.

3. I am a calm, mellow person who takes things in stride and relishes everything nature hands me. Nicole is a high-strung hypochondriac with a propensity for anxiety attacks and racing thoughts.

I even love getting my period. I don't exactly dance around in the forest like a little hippie nymph, but I DO get a sense of peace and pleasure from getting my period. For some reason (and yes, I acknowledge its oddness), it makes me feel connected to things, in touch with my body and life and the universe. I also have an obsession with the moon (Nicole frequently has to snap me back to attention when we're out because I get lost in gazing at it) so maybe I have some affinity for things that are cyclical. I just know it makes me feel feminine and earthy and harmonious and connected. Am I a little strange? Sure. But you can imagine how I might perceive the experience of pregnancy and even labor.

Nicole, on the other hand, has little to no tolerance for change of any kind, even change of the natural and cyclical variety. She hates feeling out of control of her own body and well-being. Change makes her feel unsafe, insecure, panicky. Exactly what excites me about it immobilizes her. Who knows, maybe pregnancy would be the solution! There's nothing like having something growing quickly inside you, depending on you for its very sustenance, to shake you up about how little control you have over anything. But for now, the idea is terrifying, unappealing, and even disturbing to her. It will be hard enough to keep her in check about MY pregnancy experience, as I'm sure she will be quite anxious all along the way.


Nicole has had two primary struggles with the idea of my carrying both children. First, she worries that she may someday regret not having the experience of pregnancy. It's hard for her to imagine now because the idea is so distasteful to her, but it's not a choice that will be available to her forever. She has a limited time to change her mind, and that pressure makes her second-guess herself and fear that she will have regrets when it's too late.

The second issue is that she has to grieve the idea of having a biological connection to her own child. As someone who works in foster care and adoption, I am a major proponent of family being about more than blood. However, it's easy to say that as the one who will have a genetic tie to my children. I empathize with Nicole completely on this, because I can only imagine everything she would be giving up.

As much as we will try to choose a sperm donor with her physical characteristics, the children are still more likely to look like me. I've read that "chosen" families often have outsiders unknowingly comment on shared characteristics. It seems that if people don't know up front, they tend to see traits in common that aren't necessarily really there. Further, it seems that certain things are learned--expressions, mannerisms, etc.--and that these things create resemblance despite having no genetic connection. This comforts me some, but I also know it's different the second people realize there are two mothers and quickly realize which one is biologically related. I have seen many two-moms-and-a-baby photos and blogs where I have no idea which mother gave birth, but will that make it sting less when someone unwittingly says, "Oh, she has your eyes!" before awkwardly realizing how this might feel for the other parent?

My mother-in-law recently offered to pay for IVF in order to have an embryo with Nicole's egg planted in me. Babymaking is an intensely personal decision and we had not asked for advice or opinions, so it felt very uncomfortable for me. I have told Nicole before that I have no issue with undergoing IVF if this is something she feels is important to her. However, it's not an easy process. Nicole would have to pump herself full of hormones with daily shots in her rear and crazy side effects, and then we would both have to undergo pretty invasive procedures. As a last-ditch effort to become pregnant, that becomes a much more desirable option for someone. But if simple insemination works for us, do we really want to put her body through all that? How much is a genetic connection worth?

What I really struggled with was why her mother wants this so badly that she would offer to pay. I admit that I took this more personally than I should have, but I couldn't help but ruminate over why this meant so much to her. It's not like Nicole expressed a strong desire to have a biological child while despising the idea of pregnancy and then her mother came up with this idea. It was completely unsolicited. This pokes at our insecurity that Nicole's family could look at our children as less theirs because they don't have a blood connection. I don't really think this would be the case if both children came from me, but if one comes from Nicole, I truly can't help but wonder if that child would be given preference, or seen as the "real" grandchild. That in itself was enough for Nicole to be more insistent than ever that I carry both so that there is no difference.

My mother-in-law HAS mentioned in the past that she is afraid that she would lose access to her grandchildren if we were ever to have a nasty divorce. I attempted to reassure her by letting her know that (1) I have no history of spiteful or vengeful behavior in breakups, and in fact have been quite a doormat in the past even when greatly wronged, (2) we plan on going through every single legal process available to ensure Nicole has every right to our children that I do, which would continue even in the case of divorce, and (3) working in the field that I do, I of all people know how cutting off supports affects children, and who you are really punishing in such a situation. (I didn't bother to speak about number four, which is that we will never divorce, because that is ineffective in addressing her actual concern.)

If we were each to have a child from our own individual embryos, and I whisked "my" child off with me in the event of a split, would the agony of losing one grandchild be eased because you have another? If you have two children, does the tragic death of one hurt less if you have a second? Can a child serve as a "backup" to another child? This line of thinking disturbs me. The idea of having one biological child as insurance just plays into the idea that one would "really" be mine and one would "really" be Nicole's, instead of us being a united family who are all equally connected and invested in one another.

I am glad my mother-in-law felt she could voice this because I know she was afraid I would be offended at the implication. But I am all too aware of the complexities of this situation, and I feel awkwardly self-conscious and guilty about the vulnerability of the non-biological family. There is nothing so frightening as feeling like you have a tenuous hold on someone who is the most important person in the world to you. I acknowledge that this fear is normal, and that my parents would be feeling it if it were the other way around. I am trying to take the offer to pay for IVF with a little less defensiveness and a little more understanding about how vulnerable her family feels in this situation. And I can say that her highlighting our insecurities led to amazing conversation between Nicole and me that has us more closely bonded than ever.