Battle for Sweet Lady

I held a baby yesterday. A 3-day old baby. I haven't held a baby that new in maybe 10 years. My friend Mark and his husband Richard just adopted a baby boy they have named Ethan. It was actually a pretty quick adoption, apparently, taking little over a year. They went through an agency that connected them to a woman who was already 6 months along. Getting to this point was difficult and full of intrusions. Someone came to check out their home, their relationship, their finances. They were required to put together a booklet of all the reasons they would be good parents and that booklet was to be sent to women who connected with the agency. Then they had to wait. Because they are a gay couple, they were told, they may have to wait a long time. Most women don't want their kids raised by a gay couple. Luckily, they found a woman who actually wanted a gay couple for her baby. She thought they would appreciate him or her all the more. Through the agency they paid for her medical expenses, nutrition, and incidentals. Then, so that the adoption would include both dads, they drove her here from Wisconsin, which doesn't allow gay adoption. Quite a trip for a pregnant lady, I'm sure.

The birth went well (he was born Sunday) and the hospital had two rooms set up. One for the birth mother and one for Mark, Richard and the baby. But the hospital had some ridiculously bureaucratic rules. There were only three ID bracelets. One to be given to the baby, one for the mother, and then one for one of the adoptive fathers. So basically, to bathe the baby, stay the night or do any of the things that involved getting past security check-points, only one dad had an ID. The reason? Because the hospital only gives out three bracelets. Ugh.

Anyway, I'm super happy for them and I was jazzed to go and meet their new little guy. At the same time, I was a little apprehensive. I have been talking about the War of Ovarian Aggression, right? Well the most intense and fearless soldier in that war is new babies. Even more intense that mother-in-laws and friends who want their friends to have babies (two of the most fearsome!) New babies smell powdery and cute. Their lips are teeny tiny and smooth. They look around very helplessly and will sleep right in your arms! Really! Right there, in your arms! Even their cries sound cute. This one was no different. He was so tiny!

It was nice to see them so in love with their kid. Even through their very tired eyes you could see the love. I have to say, I did pretty well. I was afraid my ovaries would actually jolt or I'd spontaneously lactate or one of those frightening things you hear about women who are of child-bearing age. Thankfully, none of that happened. I know that it's not a good time to have a kid, and I don't know when it will be, but we're pretty damn poor and unsettled right this minute. Actually, seeing how tired they were made me wonder how people with kids ever manage to do anything like get through college or go on vacations or even just keep up with laundry! I think my own mother hasn't had a good night's sleep since I was born in 1977. These are the things you have to tell yourself when faced with baby soldiers, whose clothes are so ridiculously cute.