There's Pizza in the Oven

“Mom? Can lesbians have babies?” Chet asked.

We were out on a walk together one late afternoon in early summer. We had been home from our getaway weekend with Max and Bob for about two days. I had decided if I was going to carry a baby for Max and Bob, I wanted my kids to really know them and to share time with them. I hoped that after spending the weekend together, my sons would understand that though they were two men, they were just like every other couple we knew that was in a committed relationship.

“Yes. Lesbians can have babies,” I said.

“Well, can gay men have babies?” he asked.

“It’s not as easy, but it’s possible,” I said. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, when I was out on a walk with Max, he said that he wanted to be a dad. I asked him why he wasn’t and he said that he hoped he would be one some day. If gay men can’t have babies, how is he going to be a dad?”

“Well, there are a couple ways he could do it. He could adopt a baby or he could have a surrogate carry a baby for him,” I said.

“Well why doesn’t he just adopt then?”

“It’s not that simple, honey. And, I know that Max really wants to have his own child. One that is related to him by blood,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, when Max was about 12 years old, he was skiing with his dad and his dad had an accident on the mountain and died right there in front of Max. Max never got to grow up with a dad, and I think it’s really important to him to have a child of his own, that shares his genes, that is part him, part his father, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. So then what’s a surrogate?” he asked.

Drawing back on a conversation I’d had with one of the therapists at Seattle Reproductive, I knew I had to get this right. Children don’t really have the ability to conceptualize eggs and sperm. Though my boys have been through “Human Growth and Development” (AKA Human Gross and Embarrassment) at school and have sat through a very detailed discussion about sex (with me), the therapist told me that kids at my boys’ age can only see a “chicken egg” in their mind when you say there’s an egg and sperm that combine to start a life.

“A surrogate,” I said, “Is a woman who will offer to carry a baby in her womb for other people who don’t have working wombs. It’s like a human oven. Babies or embryos can be created in scientific settings where they take the reproductive cells from a man and a woman and combine them outside of the body, but after that, they have to go into a womb to grow. Only women can be surrogates, because only women have ovens. Do you know what that means?”

“You mean, only women have the place to grow a baby?”

“Exactly,” I said. That’s why lesbians can have babies, because they have the oven. It’s like I can have pizza dough here and I can add the sauce and cheese over here and I can combine them, but if I don’t get it in the oven, nobody’s having dinner. You get it?”

“Ahhhh…I get it. So, why don’t you be the oven for Max and Bob?” he asked.

I think my heart skipped a beat. I said, “You know? I’ve been thinking about it, Chet. How would you feel if I did that, though?”

“I’d feel good, Mom. I think it would be a nice thing for you to do.”

“Hmmm. Well, I’ll think about it some more. But, you know Chet, there are some people that think that gay men shouldn’t have the right to have babies. Some people think it’s wrong. If I did it for them, there might be people who say bad things about me or say that what I’m doing is wrong.”

There was a pause and Chet stopped and turned to me.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Max is one of your best friends, right?”

“He is.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what other people think,” he said.

To avoid tearing up, I smiled and took his hand and we turned the corner toward home.

“You’re an old soul, baby” I said to him.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means, I’m really lucky to be your Mom.”