Chapter 12

I will never forget the look on people’s faces as we walked through the door and sat down together in both the doctor’s offices and during the hospital visit. Pam was beautifully prego and I was not; our close bond could not be mistaken as we settled in and began talking in hushed voices. We were both equally invested in and excited about the birth of this child – our child. It did not take long for us to note the standoffishness of those around us, quick looks over their shoulders and purposeful distance between chairs. From their perception, we were “a couple.” 

Today we look back on it with amusement; it had not even entered our minds to try and dispel public opinion. We were immersed in joy of the anticipated birth of our daughter. 

I had a blast during the hospital tour. Inwardly I was cracking up because I figured everyone else who was there had us pegged as a lesbian couple.

We took a seat toward the back as we entered the room filled with chairs facing a television screen. They cued the video that would go on to elaborate on the virtues of skin-to-skin contact and breast feeding after the birth of a child. Ours was not the typical case. I tried to act “comfortable” in this situation, careful not to cross hands or legs, sitting still and attentive. But I could not keep my mind from wandering. I thought about Pam, how uncomfortable she must be feeling. I thought about me, wanting to stand up and yell, articulating the adoption point of view. We both sat silent, made painfully aware of the uniqueness of our situation; we would have to traverse these waters together, alone.

Towards the end of the tour, staff had organized a raffle of items for the attendees. A travel bag for the trip home from the hospital, a blanket carefully crafted by hand. As baby items and books were systematically given away, and the surface of the table became painfully naked, our hope for bounty waned. “Pamela?” Hers was the last name called, and we both sat in unbelief at the sound. “A high chair or car seat?” It was the grand prize for the afternoon, and Pam had been chosen. I could hardly draw breath as I waited for her reply. “Which one do you need?” were the words she spoke, and she turned toward me. 

I do not think I could have articulated better in that moment that hung in the air like thick pudding: sweet possibility or the disaster of dashed dreams. It was her right, and now my decision to be made. “A car seat would be great!” I will be the first to admit that I am often at a loss for words when they have to be spoken in the moment. I am clumsy and then think of ways I could have said it better after the fact. But Pam found it in her heart to navigate with me despite my non-aptitude for unplanned steps: car seat it was! For me, this was a very key moment. It was here that Pam deferred to me as the decision maker for Naomi post-birth. It gave me another tinge of hope.