Grow with the flow.
Petal as hard and as fast as you can.
And other flowery puns.
We can’t control where we come from or how we got here. But we can choose to make the most of it. I feel this is what we’re asking of our kids just as much as it was asked of us as kids. And it’s still being asked of us now, as adults and parents, in fact. It really doesn’t matter whether we have a mom and dad or two of each; our journey through the garden paths of life have much less to do with our birth than our growth. But growth is hardly all just sunshine and daisies. Growth is often difficult, surprising, and sometimes painful. Sometimes it seems the pain and difficulty is what we need in order to grow. Flowers make it look easy.
When my partner and I started our journey, looking into whether kids would be an option in our future, I remember being immediately discouraged. This was more than 7 or 8 years ago, now, mind you, before resources like Gays with Kids were as well-known and the many smiling faces of successful LGBTQ+ families existed all over social media to give us hope. There were very few surrogacy and adoption advice websites and forums with personal accounts and cautionary tales that made it seem like, as lucky as we were to have a known and willing surrogate in the family, that it wouldn’t be legally possible to proceed and that we would have to go a much more complicated, expensive, invasive, and “risky” (ie. with no guarantee of success) route. This ultimately wasn’t true. It’s hard to recall some of the details and stress of that time now that so many years have passed and after having been so extremely lucky in being able to conceive twice the way we had planned, thanks to the unfathomably loving gift of surrogacy my partner’s sister bestowed upon us. But there certainly was that stress once upon a time. Stress and worry that some of you may still be dealing with at present, shading your otherwise bright hopes and dreams. Fortunate as we were, there were still long administrative wait times, high costs, and risks ventured each time we tried to get pregnant. Our very first pregnancy, unfortunately, did end with an early miscarriage, which is something I want to share simply in order for there to be an awareness of how common and devastating it can be — for whole families and parents to-be of all kinds. Life did eventually take hold and bloom where it was planted for us and I want anyone in that situation reading to know that there is hope for you too.
Furthermore, there is much excitement and positivity to go around during and after the birth of a beloved and long-awaited child. But let’s not forget there is also a huge and stressful life adjustment that comes with it, too. For those of us parents who were not pregnant, all the nesting, comparing notes with friends and family, and self pep talks cannot truly prepare you for the very real growing pains that come along with the bundle of joy that is your new baby coming home. I want to share this, too, from a cis-male perspective, because it’s a reality that barely gets mentioned amongst all the happiness and the relief that we feel following a successful pregnancy and the months of eager, impatient expectations while expecting. In truth, there is a shock to the system — I would say especially as a dad, at least in my case — due to the social pressure to keep “being a good man” through being a “good dad.” Times two for us and other two-dad families. And what does that even mean when you already struggle to be a “good enough” man as it is for existing as a queer one? How do you cope with the shock, the joy, the pressure, and the opportunity all at once? How exactly do you bloom where you’re planted?
With a second child that has just barely crossed the 1 year-old mark, I’m re-asking myself these hard questions. While our daughter’s birth and my transition into parenthood was a relatively smoother postpartum experience for me, I have to admit to feeling ripples of depression months after our son’s birth. Perhaps I naively thought I had it all figured out and that it would simply be a rinse and repeat process. More likely: I felt I got lucky the first time and knew deep down that I still didn’t (and don’t) know what I don’t know about how to handle it all. I was more scared than ever to fail with even more to lose; so much to feel grateful for, but also undeserving and unprepared. I got the professional help I needed to cope with that difficult time, but truthfully, I’m still coping with it. It’s a lifelong learning and growing journey — one of those life lessons about life cycles that one must keep realizing and that no flowery language can really conceal or explain. I have my loving partner, extended family, and friends that importantly include other parents who can real-talk about the kinds of ongoing challenges we face in our attempts to stay rooted; nurture our little ones and ourselves; and strive to bloom. But also necessarily recognize that nothing truly blooms forever.
We learn through experience — through our own growing pains and the discussions with or observations of others — that sometimes we have no choice but to droop. To rest and recover. Sometimes there is no sunshine. Sometimes our petals fall (but that doesn’t mean “he loves me not.”) Our love and our intention can stay evergreen. And in that way, we can remain perennial through all the many seasons of life. Knowing we can and will bloom again.
I sometimes wonder if the Beatles got it right all those years ago: “Love is all you need.” It sounds so simple, but seemingly true. We need love for each other and our kids, of course, but we also need love and compassion for ourselves. For anyone going through the difficult processes of trying to get pregnant, expecting a baby soon, or adjusting to all of the things you couldn’t have expected now that baby is here, I hope you are taking care by being kind to yourself through this current season.
For this Father’s Day, I’d like to say, to any and all Dads that are in bloom as you read this or are still waiting for your next opportunity, have a happy one!
From my family to yours: A big bouquet of beautiful flowers to brighten your day.
Happy Dads’ Day, Gays With Kids readers.
