Troy,
Here is my feeling on the matter: the desire to have children I think falls into three categories. 1) Those who feel a deep longing for them and "know" they will have them one day. 2) Those who don't think about whether they want kids or not but it's just something they assume they will do (this is a straight affliction, not a gay one, as gay people, except for those previously in straight relationships, have to do some time-consuming and expensive legwork to become parents. 3) Those who definitely don't want kids.
When I was 19 my younger sister was born and when she was an hour old I held her for the very first time and something very deep and inexplicable happened to me. The desire to have a child---the knowledge that, yes, I would someday have one---suddenly bloomed in me. It was like some coin on the ground that had always been at my feet and all of a sudden the wind blew the sand off it. The desire sprang fully-formed. I didn't think, "Maybe I'd like to have a kid one day." I just knew, from that moment on. I will be someone's father.
Why? Or maybe I should ask, why that moment? I can't say other than there is something deeply moving about holding a child who's just come into the world. It's kind of like the original sin of humanity, for that small moment, is washed away and here's an opportunity for us to get it right again. Every child born is an opportunity. I've only ever held two children that close to their births--my sister and my son--and in both moments there was something magical that happened, and moving in a way I lack the vocabulary to describe. This was especially true with my son, who came to me at my life's mid-stream, and who was so hard won, and I don't just mean because he was born a month premature and spent his first 8 days hooked up to machines. I mean because at every step along the path I could have turned back. Every time I considered the cost, every time I considered the daunting task of raising someone, every time I thought about giving up the life I'd had thus far, and loved.
But it's like, in that moment, my finger stuck in his little pink fist, I was somehow connected to the ages, to everything that would come after him, and I was telling him everything that ever came before. And I knew that the only true thing I could give him to pass on, the only thing that will still go around once anyone who ever lives has forgotten my name or his name, was love. It may sound hokey, but it's true. And I thought, "You can do this, Greg. You can love somebody so much it will last."
So, the question now, and in this modern age when the usefulness of kids can be debated, is why? I think that for those who have really thought it through and considered long and hard before having children, there is no real answer. Or maybe there are many answers. I used to think that part of it was primal, that there was some biological urge to procreate and see a reflection of ourselves so that we don't wholly pass out of this world on our deaths. But then this doesn't explain the reasons behind adopting and the fact that these children are loved as deeply, often more, than biological children.
I keep returning to love.
I didn't know what being a parent would be like. Try describing the color blue to a blind person or the perfect pop song to someone deaf. It's impossible. We can only get at approximations. I heard all the usual things: Your life as you know it is over; It's harder than anything you'll ever do. Etc., etc. Things that are all true but you don't KNOW what it's like until you've fallen into the flood.
But I knew I would love, and I knew it would be different than the way I loved a partner or my parents, friends and siblings. I knew it would feel like I'd carved out a rib and handed it to someone. I didn't know what it would be, but I wanted to experience that in all its wonderful, terrifying, uncontrolled beauty.
And so now I do.
Sometimes you see some prominent gay going on about not wanting marriage or not wanting kids because it's assimilating, or some other similar argument. It always seems to come from some bitter queen, and I've often wondered if that person truly believes it, or if it's just their bitterness, or even a political viewpoint. For some, I think it's a viewpoint. They've decided that this is true and so they stake out a position that makes them an advanced species on the spectrum of gay evolution. It's an ideological viewpoint, and the problem with ideology is that it lacks life and breath and compassion and understanding. It's just a rock you stand on.
I've also always taken great offense to it, for several reasons. The first is that almost any gay person who decides that they a) want to be a parent and, b) will do everything to be a success at it, has probably thought this all through much more than any straight person you'll ever meet. We are gay. We're not expected to have children. To have children we jump through financial and emotional hoops. In other words, I didn't just one day wake up pregnant. So, when, at the age of 39, with a pregnant surrogate, people were asking me, "Are you ready?" I thought, is it possible to be more ready than I am, understanding that no one is ever truly "ready?"
The second reason I take offense is the implication that I've somehow given in to society by not only having a child but even wanting one in the first place, when I don't believe it's something you DECIDE. It's something you feel, and that feeling is, for the most part, probably a mystery.
But to speak more to that, what is more out of the mainstream than two men or two women having a child together? That thing you sent me where the couple says they're traditional gays because they don't have kids says it all. Having a child is the radical departure.
I am a kid from the Appalachians who came out at the age of 16 and went to the prom with a boy (no internet back then to tear me down or build me up over it, either...we just put on our tuxes and went and a few people said faggot but mostly we were left alone). Besides a few J. Crew sweaters I once had and deeply regret, I've never been attracted to or have been a part of the "mainstream" in almost any way you could describe me. There are parts of mainstream life that I reject wholesale. Having a child, as I've said to you before, has made me visible as a gay man in a way I never could have imagined and, after all these years, is like a second coming-out. You see the people look, you explain to the man next to you on the plane, you cross out the word MOTHER on the pediatrician forms and insert FATHER, you anticipate with horror the first time some little shit is going to tease your kid about having two dads. It's a whole different kind of exposure that, honestly, can feel daunting at times. Sometimes you just don't want to take the time to explain your life.
This is to say that those who feel that having a kid is a cop-out (Rupert Everett said something to this effect recently; though I'm convinced this is a minority attitude...I think most gays see it as a very positive thing) should spend one week taking care of my toddler, investing the time and energy and then tell me what I've copped-out on. Sitting on a high horse judging or questioning the intentions of someone who's done something they never have is what seems like a cop-out.
For me, having a child was simply something I always wanted to do. There was no debate for me. For those who know they don't want to have kids, God bless them. They shouldn't, and that is a-okay with me.
But like two lesbians holding hands at the Star of Texas Rodeo (something I witnessed last month), a simple act of desire and love is often the most radical thing, when displayed to the world.
So those who criticize are free to do so but I find they come from a disingenuous position, thoughtless with their words and ideas at best, prejudiced against their fellow gays at worst.
It all distills down to this, Troy: I always wanted a child. I can't truly say why. I did it. I'm very happy.
xo G
