Selfishness

I genuinely meant the disclaimers from my last post, I don't judge any families for their choices and I prefer to have the same amount of respect shown to me. I knew going into this journey that some people wouldn't understand. Going even further than that, I knew that some people would actively dissuade me from having another child without a (preferably male) partner. I've not been disappointed. All those fears that I had about coming out about my desire to have another child were born out of my history of experiences.

Probably the most common comment I've heard is that I'm selfish - I'm not thinking of the child. Along this line of thinking, a child deserves a two-parent family. Depending on who I am talking to, it's either assumed that one parent would be male and the other would be female or that I would have a female partner. Either way, there seems to be an assumption that I haven't fully thought through the consequences of raising another child alone.

The word "another" is really the kicker in the last sentence. I left Zac's biological father, which I refer to as FOB (Father of the Baby) when I was a three-and-a-half months pregnant. I drove across country in a 1995 Honda Civic, hauling a 2,000lb Uhaul by myself until Hershey, PA. My tire blew out spectacularly on I-95 and I panicked and called 911. Then I called my parents. My Dad flew into Pittsburgh the next day and we drove the remaining miles to Texas together. I didn't see the FOB during my entire pregnancy. My Mom was my birthing partner and attended all the birth classes together. My parents took me to the hospital when I was 39 weeks pregnant and ready to be induced. When I needed a C-section about laboring for close to 36 hours without much progress, it was my Mom that scrubbed up to come into the OR with me. When I woke up after the surgery, I was alone in a room, bleeding. My parents were with Zac, who had to go to NICU for three days. When my Mom came back into to check on me, she found me in a pool of my own blood. I left a large pool on the ground that had soaked through the gurney when they wheeled me into another room. With Zac in NICU, I had nothing to do but try and recover from major abdominal surgery alone. My parents went home to get some rest and every time I tried to stand up, more blood would come out of me. I just remember so much blood and being so alone, although in reality I'm sure my parents were there every moment that they could be.

I didn't see the FOB until Zac was six months old and I flew up to New Hampshire to introduce the two of them. He wrote in Zac's baby book and I took some pictures. Then I left, and took my baby with me. Because he is my baby. There is no father listed on my son's birth certificate. Zac used to ask me a lot of questions about his "Dad" but he's never known what it would be like to live with man. He is mine and I am his.

So the argument, "you just haven't done enough research and need to hear about the stories of other child from sperm donors and how the felt and if you just knew more, you probably wouldn't want this for your child" falls on deaf ears with me. How could I ever look Zac in the eye and tell him, "It's ok that you have a biological father you don't know, but it would be cruel to inflict that pain on another child"?

I've chosen my path. I knew what I was walking away from when I left FOB. How is this process any different? Why would I need to listen to other children, when I have my own, who was essentially born to a sperm donor. I don't know, maybe I'm downplaying the comfort it provides my son to have a face and a name to half of his DNA. Maybe he's too young to express into words what that means to him. To me, it almost seems crueler to say, "Don't get your hopes up. Your Dad probably won't write back if you text or e-mail him. He's busy a lot" (and really, I have no idea what he's busy doing. Something I assume, other than avoiding his responsibilities).

Sometimes I'm even willing to accept the harshest criticism that I'm being selfish. Maybe I am putting my desire to have another child over the psychological health of my second born. If I really believed that, then wouldn't I have to logically accept that every woman that walks away from an abusive relationship is being selfish since she is depriving her child of the cherished, two-parent household? Aren't people who get divorced just as selfish as I am?

I've made no secret that some members of my family do not support me giving Zac a sibling. They don't think I'm ready. They argue that I'm not mature enough, not secure enough, financially, emotionally, and professionally. The unsaid threat lies beneath the surface that since this will be my decision, I will be left to face the consequences and will be alone and ostracized. I think that's why I started blogging again. Through my words, I hope to find the community (shit, let's call it what it is -  the family), that I'm defying. I can't think of anything more selfless than to give my body over to nurturing a child in my uterus and promising to love it for the rest of my life, but maybe I am being selfish. I just don't know.