Commuting whilst pregnant

I've happily commuted from Hove to London since I started working there three years ago. Whilst many in Brighton view it as something abhorrent to be undertaken only if completely necessary, it's never felt that way to me. That was until I got pregnant.  In all I managed (just about!) to commute for 37 consecutive weeks and I hated every one of those weeks. Here's why...

• Even if you are at the front of the crowd to get on the carriage as it pulls into the station, everyone will still push past you regardless of how big and heavy you are to grab a seat. Why? Because they know you will turf out the person in the priority seat so they are damn well not going to be considerate and spend their journey standing by being polite! 

• You proudly display your "Baby On Board" badge and could be the size of a whale. No one gives a shit on this line. If they give up their seat for you it means they are standing for an hour or more with the stations so far apart and so busy as you cross the Downs. You will have no choice but to take a priority seat from someone, or in my case I adjusted my start and finish time so I was not on the busiest trains in and out of London. 

• You've managed to get on and there's still a seat, but it's the one by the window. Damn! You think the person in the isle seat will move over to make room for you. Not a chance. They will get up and expect you to squeeze your mammoth body between the seat and the table. 

• Brighton buses don't fare any better. There was a lady in the isle priority seat with all her shopping placed next to her. The bus was busy.  I first had to ask her to remove her shopping off the seat. (Just to quickly point out I was now on maternity leave at 38 weeks!) Then instead of moving across or standing up to make room for me to sit down, she asked me to "squeeze past". After 37 weeks of tolerating train commuting I'd had enough of stupid selfish idiots, 

"Squeeze past! There's a full size baby in there, it doesn't squeeze you moron. Breathing-in isn't going to make any bloody difference you know!"

And she still didn't get up to let me get in.

• On the subject of squeezing, when the trains are rammed like cattle carts and you are forced to stand, and then someone on the platform yells, "can you move down please" and looks at you, but you can't move down because the aisle size seems to have copied the Vietnam guerrilla Cu Chi tunnels that it's physically impossible for you! "I'm too big, I don't fit" you yell back! At this point the person in the priority seat who pretended you didn't exist before and that they had not seen you, is glared at by everyone on the platform, so they are forced to relinquish their seat for you.  

• Even when you have managed to get into a seat further inside the carriage (often when a little smaller than the last two months!), if then becomes a challenge getting off as everyone stood in the aisle breathes in to make room for your bump like that's going to help! People are soooooo stupid! 

• Outside Victoria station there are traffic lights that people get frustrated waiting at. May be it's your awareness that you have a little person reliant on your care inside you, may be it's because your bones have begun to loosen from all the 'relaxin' being produced and you can only hobble slowly, but the last thing you are willing to do is dart in front of oncoming buses whilst the lights are green. So invariably, you will have people trying to push you across whilst you are trying to stay on your feet. I lost count at the number of people I wanted to throw in front of those buses! I'm frankly surprised I never did. 

• As well as the commute I found Victoria concourse awful whilst pregnant. Your own sense of protective space hugely increases, both so bump doesn't get knocked and you equally don't get knocked over. Yet despite all the floor signs saying 'Don't be a trolley wally' as well as your obvious pregnancy, it still does not stop people from running directly in front of you with their luggage or banging into you with a backwards 'sorry' thrown at you as they fly past. The number of people I wanted to hit on that concourse over my nine months could've trained me for an Olympic boxing match! 

In fact that was the constant during my commuting time whilst pregnant. I wanted to wallop a lot of people, every day!

Donor Conceived Babies: An Acceptance of Normality

For me, using a donor known only by his catalogue number seemed the most right decision for us as a family. We considered other options but always came back to the choice that we went on to make.

Living in Brighton I knew that our family would have an 'acceptance of normality'; that our child would likely know others with same-sex parents and therefore donor conceived as well. 

Attending anti-natal class and baby groups, I have surprisingly found myself the only lesbian couple and lesbian mum respectively. Where once the people I hung out with were mostly gay and childless, the arrival of our baby has changed all that with my time now spent with other mums, the majority of whom, are not gay. 

I can only assume, based on the other lesbian mothers/couples I have met, that with house prices so high in Brighton & Hove they have all moved out to Portslade & Worthing! 

The sun out, wind calm and the temperature high, I head to the beach to meet up with other mums. By coincidence every mum beachside with their baby was conceived using male and female donors.  That shared knowledge connects us and allows us to talk freely about the decisions we made.

I was not expecting to be the "only gay mum in the (Hove) village" but so far have found myself to be. Instead what I have found, due to the average age of childbearing women being late 30's and 40's, is to be surrounded by heterosexual couples/mums with babies also conceived by anonymous donors either because they are still single or because of fertility issues. 

My expectation of 'acceptance of normality' as one of many same-sex couples is completely different to the reality where it is donor conception being widely used by straight couples that provides me that shared experience with others.  

When your path to a family might be different, it seems you become part of the majority. 

I just don't care anymore

'I just don't care anymore' was definitely the running theme of tonight. Whether my friend genuinely meant it or whether it meant anything but, I'm undecided, but leaning toward the latter.

"It's ok being single", I reassure her but it was not going to make a difference to her singleton insecurity; I am after all in a relationship and one that is stable and long-term. I therefore just by my mere presence rub salt in the wound. 

Although my friend was not in a position to recognise it, I could genuinely sympathise. I might not be single but I have had enough relationships that I self label as a CRF (complete relationship failure) to have reached my own 'I just don't care anymore' point in the past. It was only when friends stepped in to help me overcome my appalling record and introduced me to GGF, my CRF trend ended. Otherwise no doubt I'd either be single myself or in another disastrous relationship on the precipice of ending again. 

Singledom feels even harder once you reach your 30s and 40s. Most lesbians are paired up (even in their 20s!), settled and either moving in together, getting engaged, married, a dog, or having a baby. If you're single and not doing these things too it can feel a very lonely place, not least because you've few lesbians to hang out with; they're all at home snuggling up and saving money for the next stage of their relationship! And when you do get the chance you're nearly always the third wheel. Even the fact that here I was out alone, without GGF is unusual in the world of lesbian coupledom.

Artwork by Andre Jordan. £2.50 from Scribbler Cranbourne St. Brighton.
Lesbians always come in pairs! 

My "It's ok being single", fell on death ears that wanted to wallow. Of course she did, when all around, you're being reminded of your single status and feel in the minority.  But equally, I see lesbians jumping from one relationship straight into another, scared of being single, lugging their emotional baggage with them and never really knowing themselves outside of a relationship. 

"It's ok being single".

My former boss once commented to me, “Susan, you seem much happier when you're single”. 
Happiness was the wrong word. I definitely feel freer. I don't mean in the sense of having freedom to do what I want, with who I want and how I want, but I do mean free from the “emotions” caused by being in love. When I'm single I almost feel more stable. 

Don't get me wrong, I love GGF and would not choose to be single in replacement of having GGF in my life, but being in love with another can be a roller-coaster of emotions that are not necessarily euphoric. You are two individuals where compromise and consideration are paramount for the partnership, but not always given. I've shed more tears caused by actions of girlfriends than I have from any other causes. 

Relationships are complicated by being emotional rollercoaters

We can all recognise times in our week when our relationships affect our emotions causing us to feel upset, stressed, anxious and distracted whether through mis-communication, mis-understandings, jealously, disputes, tensions, selfish behaviours or their absence. 

Times when I wish I wasn't affected by the love I felt for another.

"It's ok being single". 

Not the mother, not the father.

GGF had not been in the best of moods all morning. A few months into my pregnancy and it was all now very real. The shock that "it" (IUI) had worked so quickly had passed, to be replaced by new emotions. For me, it was a sense of vulnerability, that this new life inside me meant that no matter what, I now would have this little person reliant and dependent on me, and for GGF what was going on with her emotions came out later that day!

Ignoring GGF's brooding mood, I insisted on a trip to Waterstones in town to pick up a baby journal, thinking it was something nice we could fill in together in preparation for our child's arrival. With hindsight it was a very bad idea to do that day and became a rather fruitless and painful excursion.

Inside we headed to the baby section and the overloaded shelf where pretty baby journal's were crammed on. Of course we wanted one that didn't reference "father" or "dad". I had wrongly assumed that the world had modernised but as we pulled off journal after journal, it became clear that same-sex or any sort of alternative family to 'one mum and one dad' was clearly non-existent to these retail providers. And it wasn't just same-sex families blatantly being ignored, but remarried families with step-siblings and step-parents, adopted and fostered families or where extended family members or grandparents were the main carers. I still feel surprised, but am more surprised at my surprise; did I really think the reality of modern life would be represented on this shelf?!

We settle on a journal that makes a single reference to 'dad' that can be easily stickered over, but GGF then quickly sidetracks herself with a different shelf about the neutral topic of food and baby weaning. I start looking at the advice books. Again they all use the word "father" or "dad" in the title, but I find one that seems full of fab advice for the paternal parent (my terminology here that seems to not be used at all in the baby section). I show GGF.

"I'm not the dad, I'm the mum" she grumpily and abruptly informs me, dissing the book I show her and any others I might be inclined to do the same with. "I know" I say, "but the advice is really good inside and it's only a title; the advice is still relevant", I try to rationalise to her. But she's not interested and I'm failing at alleviating the situation.

In fact I feel unable to help as I realise that what GGF is trying to resolve emotionally in herself and what she's worried about is whether she will connect with and love our unborn child when she's not genetically related. Will our child connect with her, and see her as their mum too, knowing that out there, is the other half of their genetics and what's GGF's role versus the donor's role in this relationship? What about society and how that will see her in our family - will she even be acknowledged? I see her battling with these emotions and thoughts, whilst I just feel frustrated at society that it continues to reinforce one family stereotype. It really does feel like there is very little support and advice for the expectant same-sex paternal parent*.

GGF was absolutely right, she was not going to be a "Dad" because she was not going to be emulating being a female version of one. She was going to be a parent in her own right; she just needed to figure out what that was for herself, without society trying to force the "dad' label on her just because it still refuses and cannot acknowledge and comprehend anything else.

*If you know of any good websites, blogs, bloggers, books or organisations sharing experiences for the expectant same-sex paternal parent do mention them in the comments.

** Following this eventful day I am pleased to say that I have since heard about My Amazing Family and Me written and designed by Jesse Toksvig-Stewart (the daughter of broadcaster Sandi Toksvig). Available at: http://www.uglyduckbooks.co.uk

Telling people you're pregnant when you're gay

Whilst a very few of my very long standing friends knew I wanted children at some point, it was never something I actively spoke of. I never coo-d over other people's, rarely came into contact with anyone who had children and my career has always been at the forefront of my priorities. So it was something easy to be silent about. Plus it's still not something overly spoken or assumed about in the gay community.

GGF always knew (I think!) that I might want children one day, but was unbothered either way so left it to me to decide if and when it was to happen. Then one day, following my 38th birthday after contemplating that it was either now or never and the "is this the right time" question was no longer up for debate, I knew I had to make a decision.

I did so by simply saying to GGF "it's time" and she responded with a simple "OK".

Fast forward six months and the window on the pee stick shows a clear and distinct blue cross. The 12 week milestone feels an agonising wait but when it's successfully reached I feel reluctant to tell others our good news and feel relieved it's not yet noticeable. When you're gay and stop drinking, no-one even assumes it's because you're pregnant, so it's not even mentioned unless you do.

It feels like having to come out all over again, not only to family, but this time to gay friends. I wonder at how they will take this unexpected news? Will it be met with disapproval; by my family because of the unknown half of DNA, by friends for doing something sooo "heterosexual" and by work colleagues, some of whom might have strong views (especially if they'd been listening to Pope Francis reinforcing the Catholic view that only heterosexual parents enables healthy parenting during my 13th week!)

It's a nervous time telling family, wondering if they will accept this grandchild/nephew/niece like they accept their others; I need not have worried, my Mum more surprised than anything.
"I always thought you were a career girl" she says.
"I still am Mum, can't a woman have both? I plan too!"
"Well, as long as it's really what you want"
"Bit late to change my mind!"
(Mum now super excited, once the surprise element had passed!)

Then we cheated, and whilst we had begun to tell some of our friends one by one as we saw them which I found excruciatingly painful, ("how boring" was one response!), we posted a status update on Facebook following our first scan. Phew! Social media making it far easier, although some friends and family still didn't realise it was us having the baby!

We got lots of babysitting offers.

But like all couples, the next element will be who of our friends still wants to hang out with us, once our new family member joins us and life out on the gay scene as we were, is no more. 

Being pro-active in fundraising for our LGBT organisations

Camping this bank holiday weekend might have been slightly optimistic as five of us huddled close around the open camp fire trying to stay warm once the sun went down, leaving frosty sub zero temperatures.

Conversation turns to what we've been up to, plans ahead; next Sunday is the Stonewall Equality Walk which takes place annually during May bank holiday in Brighton. We discuss who's planning on taking part.

“The thing is, I just don't like ramming it down people's throats; raising money for gay things” says one of the women, there are nods of agreement from the others.

As someone who has been active in the Brighton LGBT community, both working and volunteering for its' many charities and groups as well as my current employment being with a fundraising organisation, I find this viewpoint disappointing, but not unfamiliar. Just ask any of your friends who they are running, abseiling, swimming for, or some other fundraising challenge and you’re unlikely to hear it’s for an LGBT organisation, with the view expressed around the campfire shared by many of the LGBT community.

Yet this leaves our LGBT organisations vulnerable. MindOut, Switchboard and Sussex Beacon nearly closed in 2012, and Pride changed from being a charity to a business in the same year in order to remain operational. The small charity sector which includes nearly all of Brighton's LGBT organisations, is still heavily reliant on statutory and grant funders; but this has increasingly become a smaller pot of money available and the competition for it, ever higher.

For sustainability, small charities need to diversify their income through fundraising, but this seems to be an even bigger challenge for LGBT charities. It’s a sad fact that as LGBT individuals the majority of us do not seem to be as loyal to LGBT services, don’t seem to care in fact if they exist at all and general apathy prevails. May be, because we fail to see the value of these services if we are not using them ourselves and do not know those who are or how we, are benefiting from them?

LGBT organisations need to get better at engaging with their LGBT communities, so they see the value of their services and understand who and how they are helping, but LGBT individuals also need to recognise that we should all be more pro-active in raising awareness of 'gay things' and being a voice for LGBT rights and equality, the organisations enabling this and the fundraising money that is needed by them.

A very typical lesbian love affair

The girlfriend might be away this weekend, but the title of this post is not me alluding to having any hanky panky in her absence! However this is about others who are.

In the last year I've seen some of my closest friends have their long term relationships come to an end through affairs – not untypical you might be thinking – except that, the partners were not actually (they claimed) having sex with the women they were having an affair with.

I've experienced it, the girlfriend has experienced it, and friends are being hurt because of it. It seems this is a very typical lesbian love affair; whereby women get together emotionally without the physical contact. There's sexual chemistry, emotional intimacy and emotional attachment resulting in secrecy, lying and loss of transparency with their partner.

They might hang out together or it might be an 'online' affair, confiding inner most thoughts and feelings with each other, they might express emotions for each other verbally or through 'signals' – but they don't kiss, they don't have sex. In their minds denying themselves this forbidden fruit means they are not and cannot be accused of, having an affair.

For those on the painful end of lesbian 'emotional affairs', the biggest element of this betrayal is the denial when the partner having the affair is challenged either prior or post break-up.

• They claim they did all they could to protect you from getting hurt during your break-up (by not getting physical with the woman who is now their new girlfriend).
  
  
• Outright deny they are having an affair so they don't have to face the consequences (yet!)
  
  
• Claim they only got with the person once you were separated so they can avoid the wrath of others. Let's face it, lesbian circles are small; to be isolated out from it, is a big deal!
  
  
• Deny it to themselves so they can feel less guilty about what they've actually done/doing. 'Affairs are what the straight world do' and are not in the realm of lesbianism!
  
  
• By not getting physical it looks to their peers like they got together after splitting up with respective partners so this new relationship is accepted by those peers; and as girlz barely pause for breath between relationships no-one questions the speed at which they 'moved on'.

• As I was reminded and wrote about in where and what is the lesbian moral code with exes, in the lesbian world, the moral boundary is not crossed if, “theoretically they’ve done nothing wrong”.

The sense of betrayal in an emotional affair is just as great as if it was a physical one. In many ways it is worse because for the partner they can often see and feel it happening, especially if it is with someone within their lesbian friendship circle or from the only lesbian pub in town. Denial makes them even more powerless. If you are engaging in an emotional affair, do the decent thing, and at least be honest about it!