It was an uneventful pregnancy in an eventful world…until October, when Jen started feeling itchy. She knew that was a bad sign and rushed to the hospital. Sure enough, she had cholestasis, a liver condition that stops bile acid from flowing properly. It’s fairly common—some stats say 1 in 140 women, others 1 in 1,000—and the only solution is to get the baby out or risk a stillbirth. Jen’s doctor suggested we induce the following week, one month before the due date. We changed our flights and packed our bags.
We were lucky it happened at a late stage and that Luca was a big baby. Oh yeah, spoiler alert: his name is Luca. It feels like old news because we chose his name when choosing Leila’s. (The Star Wars theme was
not intentional.)
In California, unlike Wisconsin, we could obtain parental rights without appearing in court, so despite a global pandemic and a potentially fatal liver disorder, everything felt easier this time. Paolo and I had the legal documents in hand, we were staying with my parents in L.A., we could drive to San Francisco, and we already knew what an exploding vagina looked like.
Leading up to the induction, Circle once again assumed nothing about our prior experience (or common sense) and sent reminders like:
Don’t ask to stay at your surrogate’s house.
Don’t rely on her for transportation.
Avoid surprises like a delivery videographer.
To which I thought, in corresponding order:
Duh, plus she has four kids. That would be a nightmare.
Duh, except Dave is an Uber driver so this could happen by accident.
Duh, I have a phone. And it’s Covid—they won’t let some rando into the hospital.
We weren’t even sure if we would be allowed in.
Covid restrictions were easing in some places but tightening in others. It wasn’t until the morning of the induction that we got permission to join Dave in the delivery room.
We also learned that one of us could “catch” the baby. The doctor said her husband had enjoyed that responsibility when she gave birth, so she always offered it to partners. The idea terrified me but excited Paolo. He leapt at the opportunity to put on scrubs and be part of the action. He sat right in front of Jen, next to the doctor, while Dave and I flanked her to hold her legs up.
Jen was a total pro. She could not have been more composed and later told us she had to hold Luca in because the doctor wasn’t ready when she was.
Paolo caught, I cut—the cord, not penis, as agreed—and we spent the rest of the day staring at our beautiful boy. (And our phones. It was Election Day: November 3rd, 2020.)
Back in London, Paolo and I had calls with the organization CAFCASS—Children and Family Court Advisory and Support Service—to complete the process of receiving parental rights in the U.K. With all of the American legal bases covered, this was the final step to cover every base worldwide. Namely, the base where Jen or Sara flew to London demanding custody. Prior to these calls, were they to protest our parentage on British soil, they may have stood a chance.
The CAFCASS woman began with pleasantries about parenthood.
“Is it what you expected?”
“Are you getting any sleep?”
…yada yada. I could tell it was the warm-up act.
Next, she waded into more touchy territory with questions like:
“Are you able to care for the children?”
“Are there drugs in the house?”
“Have you been drinking more than usual?”
I realized why my call was separate from Paolo’s when she then asked:
“Is your husband ever physically aggressive?”
“Does he shout at the children?”
“Has he been doing drugs or drinking heavily?”
Finally, she concluded with a checklist of factual questions:
“Can you confirm Luca’s date of birth?”
“Place of birth?”
“Religion?”
Then to cap it off: “Sexual orientation?”
An audible sound escaped my mouth—part gasp, part chuckle—but this was a formal assessment, so I recovered quickly and responded, “He’s two months old. It seems impossible to know at this stage.”
“Would you like me to leave it blank?”
“Yes please.”
“Between you and me, I’d do the same, but you’d be surprised how many people tell me to write heterosexual.”
I wasn’t surprised at all.
